Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight. I don't own City of Angels either. But I do own the Twilight and City of Angels DVDs.

Between The Bars
Madeleine Peyroux
(Words by Elliott Smith)

Drink up, baby
Stay up all night
Things you could do
You won't but you might

The potential you'll be
You'll never see
Promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now
And forget all about
Pressure of days
Do what I say
And I'll make you okay
And drive them away
Images stuck in your head

People you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Drink up, baby
Look at the stars.
And I'll kiss you again
Between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there
With your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught

Drink up one more time
And I'll make you mine
And keep you apart
Deep in my heart
Separate from the rest
Where I like you the best
Keep the things you forgot

The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Once again we're here.

Well, he came here. I'm watching over him.

As his Guardian, I keep a close eye on the Human, just to make sure he doesn't get hurt. But every weekend, he comes here to drown himself in his grief and I can't stop him from hurting himself. It's been his M.O. coming to the Smoke Lounge for the last two years since Tanya's death. This is how he deals with the pain.

I stare at him and wonder if this is healthy, if it's okay, the way he deals with this.

I've seen many different ways humans respond to a loved-one's death throughout my existence. Some humans keep the deceased's memory alive while others push their families away. Some are in disbelief and seem to lose it altogether. They lose their minds, their spirits, their will to live. Some even seek ways to join their loved-ones on the other side.

Some search for ways to help them to cope with the pain and speak about their loss and its effects on their everyday lives.

Some go down darker roads to help them cope. Like Edward.

When he's around family and friends, he puts up a wall to avoid any uncomfortable conversations. Edward hates to see his family worry about him so he puts up a front, arguing that he'd rather suffer in silence, without having to cause his family anymore grief.

He puts a lot of effort all week, keeping himself as busy as possible by throwing himself into his work, teaching the children in his Music class at Forks Elementary. He spends his free time with his daughter, avoiding to speak to any of the adults in his family.

When the weekend approaches, he leaves Bianca with his parents and goes to the Jazz bar in which he used to work at for so long. Unfortunately, he hasn't played the piano ever since Tanya's death, having lost the will to feel the music pumping through his veins. It's a shame, too. I've never actually heard him play. Other Angels have expressed Edward's excellence as a pianist. He's made attempts at playing with no success. He teaches Bianca how to play. At times he's asked to play simple songs at school plays, but that's about it. I can tell he has an impressive talent to play the piano, but the passion has left his soul. Now, there's an emptiness that hasn't been filled by anything but alcohol and strange women.

The women.

Why does he feel the need to indulge himself with a different woman every weekend? Does a Human not need love to make love? Though what Edward does with these women can hardly be called making love. From my experience watching over Humans, I've seen the act of making love as something that's supposed to be so intimate and personal. Every person seems to feel so vulnerable and in turn, making the experience itself that much more profound.

Not that it is necessary to make the experience so profound, but even when it comes to just indulging in your sexual needs, wouldn't one want to share that personal experience with someone they know and love anyway?

Edward has been with several women of different personalities and outward appearances, all looking to fulfill their fantasy of landing the most attractive, single man in town, in hopes that they'd be The One he'd turn around for. But these women always leave disappointed because after a few moments of empty passion, he walks away never looking for them again.

I've seen many humans deal with their struggles like this, but never has it affected me the way it does when I see Edward trying desperately to numb his pain away.

He sits on the same bar stool as if it's already been reserved for him. His eyes bloodshot from the occasional escaped, traitorous tear and too much booze. His face always plagued with a look of utter sadness, his fingers scratch his cheeks through his stubble. His clothes look as if they'd been tossed on at the last minute. He keeps himself in this bubble of depression, ignoring the pleadings of his old Jazz band buddies to stop the overindulgences and seek help.

He absolutely refuses to seek help, to talk to anyone and start the mending process.

So after two years of watching over him, I feel the need to step in and be the friend he needs. If he wants me.

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Blurry.

Everything around me is blurry. Everywhere I look seems like I've been submerged deep in water waiting for someone to drag me out and let me breathe again.

Drowning.

My lungs feel constricted but I can't seem to find the will to ascend to the top of the agony I was drowning in.

Is this how Tanya felt when she couldn't breathe, while being dragged down and drowning in the fire?

My vision blurs even more. I've been drowning myself in tears for the last two years since Tanya died of smoke inhalation. Since she was taken from me. This was the norm nowadays. Sometimes, I'd swim high enough to the top of the waters of my grief to let my mouth and nose suck in the air that I needed to become as human as I can push myself to be. From Monday through Friday, I have to will myself to get up, drag myself out of bed and start in on the routine of getting Bianca and myself ready for school. The last two years I've been living with my parents who, bless them, have been helping us throughout the mourning process.

At first, I was numb. I don't even know if I cried. I think Tanya took my spirit along with her the night she died because I've not felt the will to live anymore. If it wasn't because I love my daughter, and because I knew she still needs her other... less capable parent around, I don't think I would've hesitated to join Tanya. The thought had popped into my mind various times. While driving, I'd think of the possibilities of running off of a cliff. While cooking dinner, I've looked at the cutting knife reverently, with the hopes of just sliding it over my wrists, or just stabbing myself through the heart. I wondered how much that would hurt me before I blacked out. It might seem like I'm being a bit dramatic, and maybe I am, but somehow, the thought of not existing felt comforting. My family and friends would start conversations with me to wake me up out of my wide-eyed slumber, but I was too far gone in my mind to get out of my zone. My closed-in, dark, and deeply rooted chasm which held me was my zone and I wanted no one to touch it or break me out of it.

But I had to break out of it. I do have a reason to live.

Bianca is my reason for living. My reason to exist, even though, I truly didn't exist.

And so bit by bit, I have been coming out of my zone, still not feeling better, feeling conflicted, as a matter of fact. I don't want to forget Tanya. I love her with her everything that I am. My whole life was planned out with her as my first priority. Tanya helped mold me into the man that I am. As clichéd as it sounds, Tanya was not only my lover, she was my best friend. But to try to remember her is pure agony. I try recalling her scent but all I can remember is how her skin smelled of soot, her clothes singed from being too close to the flames. I stare at her picture for hours on end, reminiscing our first date, our first kiss, the first time we made love. Remembering happier times that included the news of her pregnancy with our daughter, how Tanya's eyes lit up with pride and excitement as Bianca took her first steps towards her mother. But it ends up killing me inside everytime because I don't have that anymore. I don't have the pure joy and happiness of having my wife any longer and it sucks and it takes everything in me to remember I still have a reason to keep kicking because I don't want to be here anymore.

But I needed to come out of my selfish self-pity and become the father I'm supposed to be for Bianca. As much as this whole experience has pained me though, no one has come out as affected from this as Bianca has.

For two years, my daughter has been taken to therapy to work on the nightmares that plagued her on an almost nightly basis. She'd wake up screaming and kicking from her dreams but when I'd ask her to tell me about them, she wouldn't respond. As a matter of fact, she's been so affected by all of this, she's not spoken a word for two years. As much as it pains me, it scares the hell out of me. I know the entire experience of seeing your whole life being burned away to dust is very traumatic, especially as a then-four year old, but will she ever recover and want to speak to me again? I make sure to tell her every moment possible that I love her, that Mommy loves her and watches her from above, in hopes that she would at least tell me those three simple, yet impacting words. But nothing comes out of her. Once in a while, she'll crack a smile, but most of the time she seems to be spaced out. Like she's looking at something, but there's nothing ever there.

At least the nightmares seem to ebb away from occuring nightly.

But I take all that in, hoping to encourage her to speak by showing her that everything's all right. That there is no need to keep to herself as much as she has. Then I purge all my worries and pains out on the weekends, seeking refuge at the bar with a drink on my hand and a nameless, faceless female to end the night with as I go back into my bubble, my zone.

I blink a couple of times to correct my blurry vision, and lift my head to start on my search for the next woman to satiate my need for sexual contact. I am a man and I do struggle with those needs after all. I turn around on the bar stool, looking through the crowd, finding nothing particularly interesting, but the night is still young. I turn back towards the bar and tell Peter to hit me up again with another dry scotch. He complies grudgingly but I refuse to pay him any mind as he tries constantly to convince me of having a problem.

I continue to look at the drink in front when I feel a familiar yet unknown presence to the left of me. Lately I've felt as someone is always around me, watching me. But when I search for it, I see nothing, causing me to chuckle at the prospect of my impending lunacy from too much drinking.

So to say that I was surprised at what I saw to my left would be an understatement. I must've consumed too much alcohol, because what I saw was the most breathtakingly beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on. Exquisitely beautiful, I felt a pang of hurt in my heart for not having had someone as beautiful as her in my life before, as if I'd been missing on the greatest creature God has ever made. I also feel guilty for having these feelings over this...this angel? Because all my thoughts up until then surrounded Tanya, like I'm somehow cheating on her memory by just looking at this woman who sat to the left of me at the bar.

She had long mahogany hair that stretched all the way down to her waist. Beautiful creamy white skin, like a porcelain doll, but much more delicate and refined. Amazingly pouty pink lips which were accented by the most deliciously sweet smile. But her eyes are what got to me.

There was such an infinite depth in her chocolate brown eyes, that I'd rather drown in them than the scotch I'd forgotten to drink for the moment. I'd forgotten everything else in the trance this angelic creature had held me in, that it took me a minute to realize someone was trying shake me out of my reverie, and I reluctantly looked away but not before I noticed the angel's gentle smile turn to a sad wistful pout that broke my heart.

Frustratingly, I turned to my right to see who in the hell was interrupting me from ogling at this piece of Heaven, when I noticed Victoria smirk at me, her half-lidded peridot green eyes brimming with pure lust, her whole aura oozing her sexual prowess. Her Irish background shinning through her long red hair, her impeccable body pushing close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off of her skin, wrapped around in coffee brown dress with a slit high enough to show the garter belt on her thigh.

As much as Victoria's presence was screaming for me to take her right here on the bar, and my body wanted to comply, I turned to speak with the woman to my left with the hope of letting Victoria know that I was busy speaking with someone else. But I saw that she was no longer there. Some old man looking just as ragged as if he'd been drinking all his life, had taken her place on that stool. I stood up from my place, searching around for her, looking through the crowd to see if I could catch a glimpse, without success.

Disappointed, I sat back down on the bar stool, threw the rest of the scotch down my throat, and turned to face a somewhat confused Victoria, her full red lips held suppressed laughter, her thin eyebrows lifted high on her forehead.

"Victoria, did you just see a woman wearing all black? Like a black knee-length coat, with black pants and a black shirt underneath?" I asked, desperately seeking a yes, hoping I hadn't just imagined this amazing creature.

"No, I was busy looking at you, hoping you'd help me with a little problem that I've got," she purred, raising one perfect eyebrow in suggestive manner. Can she be anymore obvious? But being the man whore that I was to the women who visited this establishment, I half-grudgingly complied to her pushy flirtations.

I stood up from the stool, slid my arm around her waist, and bent to place a chaste kiss on her neck, earning another purr from the back of her throat. Running my hand slowly up her arm towards her neck, I held her face up, making her peridot eyes lock into my emerald ones, searching for the same depth that I'd been consumed with just moments ago. As striking as Victoria's eyes were, there was no depth in them, just obvious lust.

My...relationship with Victoria started just recently and we've been hooking up more often than with any of the other women I'd been with. When I didn't need to bother with names of these women I'd slept with, Victoria was the only one I'd remember even in my inebriated state. Victoria had just joined the band within the last year as a singer and has been bringing in a lot of male clientele just to admire her smooth vocals and amazing sensual vibe, giving her the nickname the Lioness.

But all those reasons for our...arrangement fail in comparison to the fact out of all the women, Victoria is the closest person that reminds me of Tanya. Yes, it's horrible to sleep with someone, not because you're genuinely interested in that person, but because of who she reminds me of with her looks. Victoria can never be Tanya, can never smell like her, can never tug at my heart with just a smile. But Victoria and I have a silent understanding of what we have between us.

In part, she also uses me. Missing her fiancé, Laurent, who was a cop, Victoria explained of how he had been killed while on the job. His partner, James, was named the prime suspect of the murder and is now serving his sentence at a state facility on the other side of the country. Of course, it didn't help with the fact the she had been sleeping with them both, but Victoria says she really misses Laurent's presence in her life. Victoria tells me I look nothing like Laurent, or even James, but the physical needs still plague her, and who better than me to comply. No emotion, no attachments. Just sex to satiate our physical need and that's it.

It works for us.

With one last look around the bar and dance floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman and not finding one, I threw some bills on the bar and dragged Victoria out with me.

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Edward was pulling Victoria with him out of the club at a hurried pace, hailing the first cab in sight. Making themselves comfortable on the back seat of the taxi cab, Edward gropes her thighs under the hem of her short dress, while Victoria makes her way to straddle his lap. Edward impatiently shouts out the name of the nearest motel, and continues his assault on her neck, his arms bringing her closer against him, earning giggles and moans from the red-headed siren.

I sit at the front passenger seat, turning around to face the window, watching the city lights flash by, in an attempt to drown out the noise coming from the back. But it's very difficult to ignore their moaning when all their thoughts scream all the lustful ways they plan on pleasuring each other tonight.

Uh...yeah baby. So, so good. Oh yes... right there, baby. Ungh!

Tanya. Tanya. Tanya.

That's what he chants to himself every time during sex.

It's never bothered me when Humans slept together. It's human nature and it's been done for as long as they've existed.

But to see Edward looking at this woman with lust and desire, not only makes me uncomfortable and disgusted, but I've finally, after all my existence, after centuries upon centuries of hearing about it, of witnessing the cause and effect of such a possessive feeling, I find myself being... jealous.

I find myself not liking this feeling because I have no reason to feel this way. I am Edward's Guardian. I'm here to watch over him and help him throughout his life along with Bianca. If he needs a friend, someone to talk to, I'll be there. I love him with everything that I am, but even if he knew who I was, he would never truly love me. Yes, Humans have been known to fall for Angels, but it's usually in awe of our unworldly beauty. So I know that the possibility of Edward falling for me just because he loves me, were slim to none.

But I couldn't help it. I am jealous. Jealous of a Human nonetheless. Not that Humans are insignificant. But they have worshipped us in the past, seeked us in times of turmoil, cried out on our shoulders when they needed to be consoled, not the other way around. Not only have these Humans brought out emotions that were non-existent in me, which no Angel should feel, but the more it happened, the stronger and more possessive these feelings became.

Frightened is another emotion to add on to the plate.

Emotions like anger, jealousy and ire are some of the ways that an Angel can become a Demon. Emotions are just the beginning of the transformation into a Demonic creature, followed by actions. If at any moment, an Angel became wrathful and began plotting war against other heavenly bodies and human beings, he would be cast away from the skies down to the depths and his essence would be no more. If an Angel were filled with lust and indulged himself with a human being, the same happens to him. As a consequence of their choices, an Angel's eyes darken deep enough to represent the blackness that has replaced the essence of what was once his celestial soul.

I'm frightened not only because this would mean I would exist as a creature of the dark, representing something so evil, so atrocious, that I can't even bear to see myself become so. Not only because everything that I am, all of my existence, every work I've done, every memory that I've held dear to me, would cease to exist within me and I would forget everything I am. But also I'm frightened because that means Edward and Bianca would be taken away from me, never having the chance to know me, never again being a part of them. And it broke my proverbial heart. My only option is to stay faithful to my purpose and to this family and not let anything become a stumbling block.

I would rather die than to be without Edward.

But still, in all the turmoil that has been battling inside of me, I can't help but feel...giddy?

Tonight was the first time I've shown myself to Edward, and the feelings that took a hold of me just with the way he looked at me, made me smile freely. Though short lived by the interruption of this woman, it was the most amazing feeling as of yet. The way his eyes roamed over my face, taking in the details of my appearance, calling me Beautiful, touched me in ways I've never felt before. I promised myself to do it again, especially when he's not inebriated, to fully take me in with a clear head.

But for now, my reappearance will have to wait. Because right now I need to get away from the motel room they'd just arrived in. Not wanting to watch them collapsing onto the bed, starting in on their intimacy, I disappeared.

In an instant, I appeared in the darkened room and stood across from the beautiful little girl I've been watching over. Looking at the calm features of her face, I found myself smiling gently at her. Bianca had been doing so well lately. The nightmares that were plaguing her constantly had become less frequent as time passed on. The images of fires too close for comfort, the panicked face of her father, the visions of her Mother being carried away into an ambulance, never to be seen alive again, were the cause of the nightly scares.

She'd shared these dreams and fears with me in her special way. Everyday I'd become more of a believer that some Humans have amazing powers within their grasps, if only they learn how to use them to the best of their ability for the good of others.

Bianca can see and speak to Angels directly. When other Humans can only see us if we make ourselves appear, Bianca can see Angels all the time, without having to show ourselves purposely. In her own way, she can tell Angels and Humans apart, claiming there to be an aura of light around us at all times. I don't even see the aura around us. I'm completely astonished with her gift.

But with the ability to see Angels, she can also see Demons. Part of her nightmares that plagued her at first were about the Demons she'd seen constantly, though now with my help, she's learning not to fear them and therefore, not letting them take advantage of her.

Bianca can tell the difference between Angels and Demons not only by the color of their eyes, but they too have an aura around them, a dark one.

But tonight Bianca needn't worry about Demons and I'm happy to fill her dreams with light and love.

I lay beside her small frame, watching her closely for any signs of distress from possible nightmares, and finding none. I lay my hand upon her face and suddenly a small smile graces her features, while she dreams of Angels. Mostly me. And I love her so much for it.

Sorry guys. That it took so long to update but I was having a really hard time writing this chapter. Some parts I like, and some I don't, but it'll get better from now on.

Next chapter, Edward and Isabella finally meet.

Thank you so much for your patience.

Review because it makes me smile.

Pretty please, with an 'Edward' on top (Tee-hee.)