This one is going to be rather short in comparison to the others but nonetheless, I hope that you'll enjoy. There are brief references to the Dr Who written fiction piece "The Kiss of the Angel." It's a spin-off book featuring River Song as Melody Malone and is based on the novel seen in "Angels Take Manhattan." If you haven't read it yet, I totally recommend it! (^-^)

Cassidy was surprised at herself, at her own body and how quick it was to betray the workings of her mind.
She brushed all images of Michael to farthest corners of her thoughts, almost desperately trying not to think about him.
About how close his lips had been to hers earlier.
About the way his hand had cradled her cheek.
About how perfectly soothing his smile had been.
About his eyes and how they were just as handsome as she'd always dreamt them to be, all those weeks ago when she was tirelessly working on him back at the museum, innocently under the belief that he was just a mere statue.

"But he's not just a statue," she reminded herself chidingly, turning over beneath the sheets of the bed. "Remember what the doctor said. He's a monster. An alien. You can't trust him. Look what he did to your face earlier! You can still feel the pain in that gash, can't you? He only used you before and now he's still using you…"

"…but using me for what?" a quiet, nervous voice in the back of Cassidy's mind suddenly questioned.
It was true. She still had no idea what he wanted with her.
The doctor had said that the females were happy to feed off of her.
If what the pessimist next door had told her was to be trusted, they were feeding off of her life years. She had no clue what exactly this entailed but the main thing that upset her stomach and chilled her to the core was that for some reason, Michael was not content to simply have her as a meal.

"Stop thinking about him," she told herself. "Stop thinking about him and get some sleep."

For the second time that night, Cassidy's body was quick to betray her.

Despite the fact that she was still terrified of the angels that lurked outside her door- the ones that could move freely in the dark, when she had her eyes clothes and for all she knew, could freely enter her room at will- she soon found her eyelids drooping of their own accord.
The double bed she lay in was surprisingly comfy- the sheets pleasantly cool against her exposed skin and the pillows beneath her head were exquisitely soft and deep.
Not to mention that it had started to rain once more and the low, rushing hum of the heavy storm outside provided the perfect soundtrack to aid her relaxation.
Fatigue soon stole over her and without the aid of any kind of music or droll task, Cassidy found herself falling into a deep sleep.

It was only when he could hear her heartbeat starting to slow down and her breathing starting to become deeper and rhythmic that the Weeping Angel dubbed "Michael", slipped back into his new favourite possession's bed chamber.

She was in the bed, deep in slumber now.
Her form- so small and frail in comparison to his- was now curled up beneath the white sheets and a kind of peace had finally stolen across her features.

Ever since his first night at the museum and she had briefly drifted off in the middle of her paperwork, he had always enjoyed watching her sleep.
It was a pleasure that he couldn't quite explain or justify yet felt necessary to indulge in.

Sleep was a strange, foreign thing to the Lonely Assassin. The only "sleep" he knew was the long periods of dormancy that their kind could undergo while quantum-locked.
The concept of dreaming was a further mystery to him.
The idea that a being could allow their brain to completely succumb to fantasy was one that he could not fathom.

He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, moving closer to listen to the sound of her breathing. Occasionally, she would murmur something in her sleep- usually incoherent mutters that would bring a smile to his lips.
What brought a further smile to his lips was when she would murmur his name, (or at least the name that she had given him), in the midst of her slumber.
The thought that he pervaded her dreams tantalised him.
That even in her most peaceful of moments, her mind was still focused on him.

As his was on her.

Michael gave a snarl, unsure where that thought had come from and truthfully, he was entirely unwilling to pursue its origins.
There was no point in denying that his fixation on this human had become a touch…unhealthy, in terms of the usual behaviour of his kind towards humans. However, it was not a point of information that he wished to dwell upon.

He busied himself with watching even more intently than before, stooping so that his huge form cast a shadow over the milk-white sheets of the bed.
After a few minutes of content observation, he moved closer again, reaching out a hand to touch the skin of her face, trailing his fingertips into her hair. He enjoyed the feeling of her delicate, soft skin against his fingers just as he did the feeling of her flaxen tresses spilling over his knuckles as he ran his hand through her hair.
He watched his human's facial features tense and relax as he stroked her. There wasn't a chance of her even allowing herself to descend into such comfort and serenity if he were to pet her while she was awake.
It wasn't as though he even could anyway, thanks to the effects of the quantum lock.

She turned in her sleep, exposing more of her face and giving him access to more of the epidermal hide that he enjoyed so much. The skin of his own kind- even when out of quantum-lock- was still firm and cold, as their hair was much coarser and matted. Weeping Angels had evolved for combat, not comfort. In the pale light of an unveiled moon, he could see the lines on her face where his claws had torn her earlier.
Even though every fibre of his being screamed in protest, he kept his claws retracted, to avoid marring the soft flesh any further.

"I wish for my human to be as soft and unflawed as possible," he told himself. After all, if he was going to keep her, he wanted her to be the best possible exemplar of her species. "But when she deserves punishment…" He ran a single finger down one of the freshly healed wounds, watching with a kind of sadistic glee as her brows furrowed in pain. "…I shall administer it gladly."

He had tasted her blood beneath his claws and the single tear that had grazed his fingers- running his tongue over the fresh fluids as soon as she had run from him. Having her essence left upon his body filled him with an indescribable excitement- especially as the essence was drawn from her sorrow and pain.

And she had deserved her punishment earlier.
How dare the little ingrate speak in such a manner to him?
How dare she even think about running away from him again?

He gave a low growl under his breath, looking to the phone on the bedside table and clenching his fists.
She had been speaking to another human.
This other human- this doctor- had sought communication with his pet because he wished to take her away from him.
He had heard rumours of a certain doctor who had caused unspeakable trouble for beings of all kind and had gained a reputation for destroying the carefully-designed plans of others.
"Let him try to take her away," he snarled internally. "I'll annihilate him just as I did all those other humans who tried to steal her away from me before. I will eradicate anyone who attempts to take what is mine. They will face the might of an Angel before they even come within a radius sufficient to look upon her."

He was drawn from his fuming by the sound of her murmuring in her sleep, stirring and writhing beneath the blankets. He bent down once more, laying a hand on her flushed cheek and watching with the same intrigue as before, as his actions seemed to soothe her.
She was so unlike his kind.
So vulnerable.
So fragile.

He slowly and silently brought his head down to hers so that he could feel her warm breath against his face as he had felt it against his lips earlier.
She had made such a good meal for him.
Her youthful, bountiful years of life had given him even greater levels of strength.

"I will bring you something, my little slave," he told her, despite knowing that she could not hear the language of the Angels and even if she could hear it, she probably wouldn't understand a word he was saying. "I will bring you something to show my gratitude for your services. What kind of master would I be if I forgot to thank you?"

Another warm breath spilled on to his face and instantly he drew away, wary of the feelings that she ignited within him. Sometimes, his temptations became too great.
Sometimes it took all his self-control not to put his hand around her slender, pale neck and snap it like a twig so that he could watch the light disappear from her shocked, frightened eyes.
Sometimes it took all the strength her could muster not to press his lips to hers in an Angel's Kiss and suck every year of life from her body, feeling her bones slowly turn to dust in his arms.

But no.
She had to be alive.
He needed her to be alive.

Suddenly, he heard himself being called from outside the room.
He gave an exasperated, irritated growl but managed to tear himself away from the sight of his sleeping human and silently left the bedroom.

As etiquette dictated, he immediately covered his eyes before addressing the angel who had called him.

"What is it, fledgling?"
"Angel Ariel wishes to speak to you, Wanderer. She requests that you come as quickly as possible."

Invisibly rolling his eyes, he responded. "Very well. I shall follow you. Lead me to her."

He had happened upon this particular group of Angels in his initial travels, shortly after he had been exiled from his tribe and long before he had been trapped by the clerics who had found him in Sherwood Forest, England.
He knew that Angels had been running a communal feeding ground which involved hoarding humans and using their energy signatures, he had tracked them down during his time at the museum. At night, with no cameras, it was easy to travel back and forth across the time stream.
When he wasn't following his human home to watch her sleep in her own bed, of course.

He had long decided that if he truly wanted a human slave, keeping her to himself would be paramount. Therefore, a farm where humans could be kept seemed the perfect place to take her. He would always have access to nourishment and all the while, he could ensure that her attentions were never diverted by any other human.

When it came to the proposition of joining them, the Summer Bank Angel clan were not difficult to convince.
After all, why would they refuse?
Their group consisted solely of females and he was a fully grown Weeping Archangel.
The rare, powerful, males of their species.

The idea of an angel keeping a human as a pet had amused them greatly and he had already entertained them with stories of his time at the museum and the bizarre, absurd things that he had seen the humans do and say.
He had struck a deal with the head Angel of the clan.
This deal allowed him to store his human safely in the building and to visit her whenever he pleased. In return, he would hunt with the clan and contribute to the food supply.

He followed the young Angel to the hotel's ballroom downstairs. The grand hall was in complete darkness, allowing the two of them to raise their gaze and to move freely, without fully covering their eyes.
Although his eyes were adapted to such darkness, he could not see the outlines of the other Angels. He could sense them though. There were at least twenty other females in the room, listening, aside from the adolescent Angel who had brought him there and Angel Ariel, who was sitting at the highest point in the room.

"Greetings, Angel Ariel," he said aloud, announcing his presence. "You wished to see me?"

He heard a low laugh from the head Angel and she responded.
"Ah, Wanderer. Greetings. That human of yours is a feisty one, is it not?"

He merely raised an eyebrow. "She is lively when allowed to be, if not a little brazen. However, she is perfectly timid when correctly disciplined."

A ripple of appreciative laughter echoed around the room, the other Angels clearly approving of his power over the human girl.

"Indeed," Ariel went on. "It's years are good. Very plentiful and very satiating. It's a respectable specimen…" A waver entered her tone and he could hear that she had risen from her seat. "Even if your exact reasons for wishing to hold on to this particular human are rather dubious."

He simply shrugged, unmoving and unchallenged. "She entertains me. Her behaviour is forever changing and observing her is never a dull pastime for me. Additionally, she possesses the skills necessary to heal and care for me should I ever be injured." He gave a snort of laughter. "And did she not preserve one of your own victims earlier today?"

"That said," Ariel cut across him. "Your current state of affairs with this human still raises an awful lot of questions. You understand that, don't you, Wanderer?"
She had been referring to him as "The Wanderer" following his refusal to introduce himself and relinquish his real name to them. Honestly speaking, he preferred the title of "Michael" that his human had given him but he was certainly not going to make that public information among the other Angels.

"I understand," he replied curtly, simply nodding his head and folding his wings behind himself.

"When exactly do you plan on delivering the ransom that we agreed upon?"
"The child? I shall bring her here for you all to feed upon when I see necessary," he orated coolly. "Patience, Angel Ariel. I had to prove myself to you before you permitted me to stay here but now I must judge everyone here trustworthy enough to be deserving of my terms of the agreement."
"Trustworthy enough? Have we not given you the room for your human, as agreed?"
"Yes, but we also agreed that no Angel here would lay a hand upon my human. She is mine and mine alone." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I will give you a fortnight and provided that Cassidy is unscathed, I will deliver the child."

Ariel was silent for a moment, as though mulling over the situation in her mind, though after a few minutes, she gave a surprisingly jovial laugh. "Very well, Wanderer. We'll play your game. A fortnight it is." She alighted from her podium, sauntering down the steps and addressing the group. "Now, we shall partake in a leisurely hunt with our brethren in the city." He could feel her gaze turn to him in the dark and he felt the bare tip of her feathers brush against his. Her voice had dropped several octaves to a much gentler purr. "Will you join us, Wanderer?"

He turned to leave, ignoring her obvious advances. "I must graciously decline your offer, Angel Ariel. I have other matters to attend to, this evening…"
He had skilfully rejected any other attempts at seduction thrust upon him since he had gotten there. As far as he was concerned, he was not here to make cherubs and the more often and publically he relayed that message, the more likely it was that he would be left in peace.

Ariel was silent for a moment, but even without looking at her, he could tell that her fangs were starting to protrude.
"As you wish, Wanderer…"

Not showing any fear in the wake of her icy tone, he began to walk away.
But her next words halted him once more.

"Cassidy."

He whipped his head around immediately. "Excuse me?"

"Cassidy," Ariel repeated with a smirk that he could practically hear. "That's the human's name, is it not?" She gave a light and patronising snort of laughter. "We were all discussing it earlier. You often refer to the human by its given name. It's …endearing."

He frowned, continuing to walk away and out of the ballroom.
"I should find it redundant to call her much else, seeing as she would not answer to much else."

"That is also very sweet… very quaint, Wanderer!"

"…what is?"

"That you actually think that you can speak to it."

He left without another word, not feeling the need to indulge them in the slightest and not wanting to give Ariel the Wench-Angel the satisfaction of hearing his response.
He had enough of her childish envy, her abrasiveness and her falsity.

The errand that he had intended to carry out did not take him as long as he had initially thought it might. He traversed the time-stream with ease, travelling to the grove in Sherwood forest that he had happened upon so many years ago.
He plucked a single red bloom from the twisted limbs of the bushes strewn across the ground and took the earth-grown flower called "a rose" back with him to the Summer Bank.

He slipped back into the room where his human slept and bent to leave the rose upon the pillow beside her.
True, he did not have the previous delight of fooling her into thinking that somebody else had left her the flower and watching her struggle with the mystery of who exactly the culprit was.
However, even so, each time she saw the rose, a brief look of surprise and delight flashed across her eyes.

That look alone- the flicker of joy that she couldn't disguise- satiated him with enough amusement to continue the habit.

He lingered for a moment, watching her in the serenity of her slumber, in the stolen reverie of her dreams and after a moment of consideration, reached out to stroke her face just once more.
"You are mine," he whispered in his native tongue. "My pet. My slave. My human. Mine. Just let them try to take you away from me."

As he walked out of the room, his mind drifted back over what Ariel had said earlier.
She was right.
Maybe he couldn't speak to her.

Yet.