Author's Note: Here is a long chapter for you guys! This chapter was super fun to write (lol, I guess I say that about every chapter). I'm really going to need reviews and feed back to let me know how you feel about this and the upcoming chapter. Without further ado, take it away Patch. Again.

Patch POV

It's early in the morning, and the sun is rising. We're in the Jeep, navigating through the sleepy town of Coldwater to my place. Our place. I glance sideways at Nora, and her eyes are drooping, struggling to stay open. She's slouched in her seat. I take her hand in mine and tell her, "Sleep now, Angel."

She smiles lightly and leans her body across the console, resting her head on my shoulder. Our contact makes it easier for her to sleep, I guess. I can understand. Within moments, I hear her breath even and slow, telling me she's asleep.

I take the long route home. I need time to think.

It's crazy to think that less than 24 hours ago, Nora and I were safe, in my place, joking and having a normal morning. But now, my past has destroyed normalcy. The proverbial shit has hit the fan. How long did I think that our lives would go on normally? I was just kidding myself, and I put Nora in harm's way because of it.

I've been putting this off in my mind. But I can't any longer. Who was that person that attacked Nora? I swear I will find them and rip them to shreds. How dare they even put a finger on her? Oh God, this is all my fault. If I only insisted that I went with her, if I went after her… I can't – I won't – let anything happen to her, ever again. I will take that promise to the grave.

As I stroke her hand, still resting in mine, I promise myself that I'll find this person. I'll find and end this sick person – and Nora won't have to know, I don't want her to ever worry about it again. This is MY problem, not hers. She didn't ask for this.

I pull into the parking garage and turn off the car. Without waking her, I get out of the car and go to her side. I pick her up out of the seat, cradling her under her knees and around her back. She stirs in her sleep, resting her head against my chest and wrapping her arms around my neck. I press my lips to her forehead, squeezing my eyes shut and mentally kicking myself. How will I ever forgive myself? I almost lost her.

I take her into the apartment and carry her to our bedroom. When I lay her down on the black silk sheets, I try to memorize the image. The image of my Angel, blissfully unaware, peaceful and innocent.

Nora POV

I wake with a start, sweating and shivering. I know I just woke up from a nightmare, but I don't try to remember what it was about. Nightmares are nothing new, anyway.

The blinds in our room are drawn, but a little light of the early evening filters through. Wait, early evening? I look at the clock on the Patch's dresser and it reads 7:24 pm. Holy hell, I've been asleep for twelve hours.

It all rushes back to me; the attack, the hospital, Patch.

Patch. Where is he? I look around the room, sitting up. But with my sudden movement, I grab my head and groan. I may have recovered at a fast rate, but that doesn't make me immune to killer headaches. I look at the nightstand next to me and I see two Advil and a glass of water. The silk sheets pool at my waist when I grab the pills and I notice that I'm wearing Patch's tee-shirt. I blush at the thought of him changing me out of the scrubs. He thinks of everything.

I throw back the pills and set the glass back on the table. This time, I notice a paper laying on the edge of the nightstand. I pick it up with shaking hands. It reads, in Patch's elegant script:

Angel,

I hope that you are still sleeping when I return, but if you aren't, I will be back soon. I'm so sorry. Just some business to attend to. Please don't worry, and please don't leave the apartment. I love you.

Yours,

Patch

I crumple the paper and clutch it to my chest, distraught with emotion. First, I'm angry that he's gone. Not that I don't feel safe, but that I should be with him. I'm not a little girl; I'm not going to let him do everything himself. Second, I'm scared that he'll get hurt, or lost, or never come back. But after all that, I feel this hollow place in my chest. It's hard to put to words, but it feels as if my heart has been ripped out of me. Maybe because it has. And I start to sob.

I don't know how long I've been crying, maybe minutes, maybe hours. I don't care. Suddenly, I just shut down. I'm lying down and I'm breathing, but that's about it. I'm not moving, and I'm certainly not thinking.

That's how he finds me.

I sense his presence before I feel him, but I don't speak, or move, or react at all. He pulls my body to his, and I once again begin sobbing, sobbing with tears I didn't know I had left. My head rests against his chest and I gasp, trying to catch my breath. It's a strangled, fish-out-of-water gasp, like I've surfaced after holding my breath for minutes. He's rocking me and smoothing my hair, whispering words that I'm too upset to hear.

It's too much. I start to weakly pound my fists against his chest, pushing him away. He only holds me tighter. I continue to beat my fists, raising my voice and saying, "Damn it, Patch! I... you…" I've lost all sense, I can't see straight, and his reply falls muffled on my ears. I try to calm down. Once again, I rest my forehead on his chest and take big gulps of air.

That's when I notice the small bloodstains spattered on his shirt.

My head whips up to his face and I catch the sob that starts to escape my mouth by clasping my hand over it. "PATCH!" I yell, muffled by my fingers. When I look him over, his face is bruised and scratched, much like mine was yesterday. His hair is a disheveled mess, and he looks exhausted. His knuckles are bleeding.

Slowly, as if he'll disappear, I reach my hands up and touch his face, my lip quivering. "… no, baby, no. What happened? Where were you?" I groan and run my fingers through his hair, down his chest; I just need to touch him, make sure he's really there, that this nightmare is really happening.

For the first time since he arrived, I hear the words he's been saying. "I'm fine, Angel. Shh. I'm fine." His voice is surprisingly strong and steady. Not at all how I feel.

"What happened, Patch?" I whisper, afraid that my voice will crack.

"Angel, it's nothing for you to worry about. I promise. And really, I'm fine." He says, throwing me a crooked smile that looks out of place on his bruised face. He seems calm and in place, acting as if nothing happened.

I don't know what to say, what to feel. "Patch." I say, "You're not fine. You're bleeding and bruised. You WILL tell me what happened in a minute, but first, please let me take care of you." I plead with him, looking into his eyes. I pointedly decide to let the issue of what happened drop for now because I need to see him cleaned up. I can't see him like this.

I stand up from the bed, Patch's tee-shirt was hiked up and not doing such a good job of keeping me modest. I quickly pull it down and reach out my hand. Patch takes it, speaking to me, So innocent, Angel. Do you remember who changed you into that shirt? Nothing I haven't seen before. He winks at me and stands up. I blush and shake my head as I lead him to the bathroom. Get your mind out of the gutter Patch, I say to him. However, I am secretly relieved that he feels well enough to joke around.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub, and Patch sits on a stool in front of me. I run some warm water and wet a washcloth to wipe his face clean. He leans toward me and closes his eyes as I dab at his forehead. Every once in a while, he winces, and I hurriedly apologize. This must be extra painful for him, because of his inexperience with pain and sensation.

Once his face is relatively clean, the washcloth has turned pink. I sigh and wring it out into the sink, my hands shaking. I turn back and face him, and he flicks his eyes up to meet mine. In this moment, I feel a hot surge of passion for him. A fiery electricity runs between us.

To break this sexual tension, I whisper, "How are you feeling?" My words echo in the bathroom.

"Angel, this is nothing, I feel fine. I used to look twice as worse on some nights I was at Bo's."

I wince. Images of him in fights at Bo's swirl my mind. I purposefully block the more, er, recent, experiences I've had at Bo's. He sees my face and throws an apologetic look.

"Patch. Tell me where you were. Why would someone do this to you?" I press on.

"Angel, this isn't something you need to worry about." He is growing stern, turning into my protective Patch, the one that thinks he can shelter me from the world.

I give him a hard glare, not backing down.

His eyes glaze over as he continues, as if he were shutting down and resisting the memories. He says, "If you must know, I took care of that piece of dirt that hurt you. I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would just upset you." Patch is desperately trying to control his emotions, not letting anything break through.

He reaches for my hand, but I retract mine, pulling away. Does he know how badly he could have been hurt? He threw himself into this without any idea of who he was dealing with.

He's right. It did upset me. He put himself in danger, for me. I'm definitely not worth it. A silly girl like me, she isn't worth his pain. I know that Patch would do anything for me, put himself in danger, risk it all – and that's what scares me. His blatant disregard for self-preservation, because I outweigh everything else. I guess, though, I can understand. I feel the same exact way about him.

"Patch, who was it? Please tell me, so we can just put it behind us." I plead, looking into his eyes.

"If I tell you, can this be the last time we ever speak of it?" He looks seriously at me, and I give a small nod. "Fine," he sighs. "It was a very strong fallen angel." He sees me start to interrupt him, waiting for me to say that all the fallen angels except for him are gone.

"I know, I know. They're all supposed to be gone. This one just got lucky with his escape. He is cunning and deceptive, and he tricked his way out of hell. He's an old enemy from my past. Let's just say, he holds grudges… for hundreds of years. Needless to say, he's back where he belongs." A dark look crosses over his face.

It's all very overwhelming, but I manage to squeak out, "I don't understand. If I'm nephilim and I couldn't even fight back, how did you defeat him with only a scratch or two?" My face twists in confusion.

"The archangels lent their assistance." My eyebrows raised at his curt reply, and I was about to question, but he continued.

"I just want to put it behind us and forget it ever happened. Because it will NEVER happen again." He practically growls his words at me. I can see it now: me being locked up forever, never leaving his sight. If I thought he was protective before, I'm scared to see him now.

"It's already behind me." I say, mostly for Patch's benefit. I sigh heavily and say, "I just wanted everything to be normal. Can't anything go right for us?"

His lips curl up into a smirk. "I promise Angel, I won't stop until our lives are completely normal."

His face inches towards mine and he softly touches his lips to mine. "And I mean, soul-crushing, mind numbingly normal." It's moments like these that I live for.

I'm sorry I worried you, Angel, he says.

Honestly, I'm just glad you're here, and now you're safe. I hated to wake up without you. We always seem so real, so raw, when we share our special way of communicating.

Is there any way I can make it up to you?

I can think of a few ways, Patch, I say as I advance towards him and rest my hands on his chest. I don't know what it is about mind-speak, but I definitely become more daring.

Author's Note: I usually don't finish with a note, but what do you think? Is it finally lemon time? (;
xoxo