This chapter is absolutely horribly written, and when I come back to my senses and go into my "writing mode" (as I like to call it), I will give you a revised version, but you see, not a lot is happening in the story write now, and not many people are reading this, so… I don't have much inspiration, like, at all. Though, that is NO excuse. I'm also sorry for the two months I forgot about all fan fiction. Please don't hate me.

Disclaimer: I copyright nothing. I own nothing. I'm pretty sure the author's aren't reading this, but if they are, first off, thanks for reading, secondly, don't sue me.

Patch seemed so uncomfortable sitting at the dinner table with us, it was almost comical, and watching him trying not to squirm under my family's scrutinizing gazes made my day. It was such a weird look for him; he seemed like such a tough guy, but he was so nervous under this setting. It made a warm smile appear on my lips, knowing he was already trusting us enough to show he was uncomfortable. Either that, or I was better at reading people than I thought.

I got up to put my plate in the kitchen, and saw Patch leave the table in my footsteps.

"So," I trailed off, "how are you feeling?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, playing dumb.

"Listen, I know you're not exactly feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, and I don't know what you left behind, but this is us. We've been through… a lot. And, truthfully, I wouldn't change a thing, because it's made us closer," I rambled, and then stopped abruptly. I still couldn't believe the things I said around him.

It must be some sort of freaky guardian angel thing, I thought.

Or maybe you trust me too much, Angel, Patch chuckled in my head, startling me to a jump, and I noticed something.

"Um, Patch?" I probed.

"Yes?"

"What did you just call me?"

Patch froze but recomposed himself, plastering a smirk on his face. "Your name, what else?"

"You called me Angel," I stated.

"I don't think I did, but why not? We can stick with it, Angel."

"I don't like it."

"Well, then it's official," Patch announced.

I scowled. "Then what will you call Angel?"

"Little one or something like that, but you will be my one and only Angel," Patch's words became a whisper towards the end. I was blushing as I stormed out of the room, thoroughly ticked. Although, the nickname flattered me.

Since he was a fallen angel, he had to know what a normal one looked like. And he was calling me his. The thought sent butterflies pummeling through my stomach. It also caused my face to drain of color and horror to strike me to a stop in the hallway. I would not be his "Angel". I wouldn't be anyone's "Angel". And I would most definitely not rebound on him or anyone else. There was no way I liked him. The only reason I thought I did was because I missed Fang and we were connected through that guardian thing.

That's all.

Yet, in the two weeks he'd been here, the Flock and I had really connected with him. He would listen to Nudge for hours, tell Iggy what girls looked like (not that I approved), could stand Gazzy's farts enough to keep him company until it wore off, talked to Angel through mind reading, and taught Dylan some of his combat moves. Well, actually, he taught all of us some combat moves, so I don't really know how he was bonding with Dylan, though I know he had to be, because they talked a lot. When I say a lot, I mean a lot. It was sort of weird sometimes. In fact, we'd be watching a movie, and they'd tell me they're leaving, whispering it in my ear.

Strange, right? Whatever.

At the end of the hallway, I finally reached my room. Flinging the door lazily open, I waddled in, turning off the lights and throwing myself onto the bed.

"Wake up."

And then I was soaking. Wow, what a heads up.

Scratching my head, sitting up, and pealing the wet covers off me, I groggily opened my eyes to give him a pathetic morning glare. "What the hell? Why'd you –"

I licked his hand, but all he did was roll his eyes, not removing it from my mouth and whispering, "I think someone's in the house."

After he removed his hand, and I could finally speak, I was speechless. Suddenly, an overwhelming fright took over me, and I leaped out of bed, only to be jerked back by Patch.

"What are you doing?" He whisper screamed.

"I have to tell the flock. They don't know about it, and if there is a guy, I'll beat him up." I made my way for the door again, being jerked (emphasis on the jerk) back, again.

"I can deal with him."

"I can, too"

In less than one step, Patch was towering over me, his hands on both sides of my face, with his dark depths of eyes boring into my muddy brown ones. At that moment, there was nothing. The only thing I knew at the moment was Patch. All that was coherent were his hands on my face, and his warm breath caressing my lips. When he spoke, I could feel what he was saying on my parted lips.

"That isn't the point." His eyes flickered down before meeting mine once again. "The point is that I can't stand even the slightest chance of anything happening to you."

For a moment, there was only complete silence, and then I was in my bed, soaking, with my eyes closed.

"Max, get up. It's time for breakfast, and if you don't get up now, all the bacon will be gone."

My eyes shot open to see patch standing over me, slightly smirking, as always. Shooting out of bed, I spun around, only to be greeted with a burning flash of sun searing my eyes, lighting up the entire room. When I looked back to see Patch, he was gone, the door shut firm behind him. After glancing at the clock, I gaped; it was ten o'clock. I never got up that late.

And I never had dreams about boys declaring their feelings for me. Never.

Instead of proving myself to be thoughtful, I brushed it off, deciding to leave it in the vault. I hopped down the stairs, almost tripping on the last step, feeling partially pleasant for the morning, and went into the kitchen, plopping next to Patch on the table to find bacon and eggs complimentary of Iggy already on my plate.