Thank you one and all for your continued reading of this fic!
Everything will soon be drawing to a close but not before a lot of drama, a lot of chaos, a tiny hint of malice, a smattering of revenge and a dash of desire is added to the mix.

Hope you're all having fun. Drop me a line if you feel like it!

Consider this chapter to be my experimenting with Doctor Who-styled grittiness and Doctor Who-styled fluff.

That, and the calm before the storm.

If Cassidy truly had to summarise the experience of living with a Weeping Angel, she would easily and swiftly note it to be built on a series of bribes, quips and impasses.

For reasons that the human woman could not entirely guess at but didn't want to bother reflecting on, Michael, (the living statue was still adamant that she was to continue to call him by this name rather than his real one, for causes unknown to her), had stopped physically striking her.

Perhaps it had something to do with her finally deciding to hit back, she mused, or maybe it had something more to do with the fact that she no longer gave him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The fact had finally come to her attention during an incident in which she had been trying to find a print-out for a Christmas exhibition that the Museum was putting together. During her frantic web-surfing for non-copyright early photographs of Charles Dickens, Michael had come to stand behind her.

"Away from the windows," he had sharply ordered, placing a hand on her shoulder and tugging her backwards. Her laptop jostled, almost toppling over her kneecaps.
Cassidy rolled her eyes, casting her eyes down towards where their skin had main contact. The cold, weight of stone upon her sent her gaze shooting back to her laptop screen once more and as soon as she was certain that Michael was free to move, she aggressively shrugged him off.

"Give me a second. I'll be away as soon as I finish downloading this…"

"No. Now. You cannot afford to be seen too clearly if we are under surveillance."

He placed his hand on her shoulder once more, only to have her shrug it away just as quickly.

"In a second."

"No. Now."

Michael caught her by the back of the neck with one hand and seized a well-sized length of her hair with the other, violently yanking her backwards.
Her laptop clattered to the floor and her body just about followed it.

Cassidy let out a high pitched shriek, angrily swatting him away until he released her. The sting of having her hair pulled was enough to bring involuntary tears to her eyes and she felt these tears pour out and on to her cheeks as she stood up.

"That hurt. Stop hurting me! Why do you always have to hurt me? You fucking monster…"
She composed herself, wiping her eyes and finger-combing her hair.

"You cannot afford to be seen," the Lonely Assassin repeated sternly, frozen into stone with his arms folded across his chest. "Anything I do to you, Cassidy, is for your safety and your well-being. I thought you would have realised by now that your safety is my primary concern and always has been…"

Cassidy threw her head back and laughed sarcastically, taking her laptop back up into her arms. "My safety is your primary concern?! You've got a fucking funny way of showing it!"

She stormed towards the doorway, not throwing him a second glance but his hand reached out to grab her by the forearm.

"Cassidy-…"

"Let me go," she told him, still refusing to look back at him and wrenching her arm from his clawed grip. "Just…let me go. I'll get away from the windows. Just let me do it on my own."

The Weeping Archangel did not respond.
He did not respond verbally anyway.
His fingers slipped from her forearm, releasing her as she requested.

She roughly pulled her arm away, briefly nursing her forearm and inspecting it for nail-marks before storming out of the room.

That was neither the first nor the last time that tension between them had suddenly spiked.

Cassidy had also- and perhaps quite frighteningly- found that a fun way to push Michael to the very boundaries of his tolerance was to threaten to hurt herself.
She would never actually do it but the threat was often enough to dissuade the Archangel.

Cassidy was in the process of looking for one of her Roald Dahl picture books to keep Abigail entertained. The little girl was jabbering away to her brother on the phone, so Cassidy was afforded some precious time to put a fun evening together for her. After all, it was hard enough being besieged and virtually confined to the house- especially when her older brother in the midst of a pleasant getaway.

She was about halfway from the top of the stairs when she heard a creaking noise behind her. With mounted paranoia, she quickly glanced over her shoulder- only to see no one standing on the steps at her heels. Cassidy frowned, turning back to find Michael only inches from her nose.

"I'm walking up here. I'd like to pass by, if you please" she stated stiffly, redirecting her gaze to his chin.

"My body is weak. I require the assistance that only you can provide me," he told her, his lips frozen into an irritatingly confident smile.

"I'm in the middle of something right now," Cassidy informed the Archangel through gritted teeth. "Give me a moment to get myself together and I'll be with you as soon as I can."
Her words were polite but her voice was cold and hollow.

"I am significantly malnourished and making quite the sacrifice for you and the child by not hunting or doing else to act upon my hunger. I propose you do what humans appear to be good at and prioritise the trivial matters…"

"I am significantly affronted by your arrogance. I propose you do what Angels appear to be good at and have some fucking patience."

Michael's tone turned to a positively saccharine, almost mawkish simper. "But dearest Cassidy…beautiful, benevolent Cassidy…I am in such pain. I thought that humans were kind and merciful."

Her voice was almost quivering with rage. "Oh? You're in pain? Well, I thought that Angels were tough and uncaring. Deal with it."

A growl seeped out from behind his smile.
"Do not test me. Do not think that I am too weak to properly administer discipline where it is required…"

Cassidy raised a cool eyebrow and in a moment of madness, leaned back on the step where she stood. Her eyes were still perfectly fixed on Michael's throat as she allowed herself to fall backwards, her heels wedged on the edge of the step. Her slightly clammy hands clenching the banister were the only things preventing her from falling backwards.
She deliberately concaved her back, further hinging her weight on the grip of her own fingers.

"Wouldn't it be really funny," she seethed, smiling faintly as she stared at the stone Angel. "If I fell right now? My neck would snap right in half…or my skull would certainly split open...I'd be dead on the spot and you'd certainly be in trouble considering you wouldn't be able to find another willing human to help you out…"

"You wouldn't leave the infant."

Cassidy shrugged. "Maybe I've already told Abbie what to do if I get hurt. Her brother's going to be here to collect her tomorrow and she's already survived an attack from two others of your kind…maybe I'm not worried about her."

"You wouldn't end your own life."

"Why not? I tried before, didn't I?"

She felt vindictive, she felt cruel but knowing that she was pushing Michael's patience to the very barest of its boundaries built up her confidence and made her revel in her own malice.

Cassidy grinned wider at the Angel's silence, mocking him.
"Don't test me, Michael."

The Archangel snarled. "Pass."
Satisfied, Cassidy allowed her burning eyes a single blink and content that Michael had vanished entirely, she continued on her journey up the stairs.

There were so many moments when the two of them would find themselves arguing, the tension between them increasing in spades until one of the two finally stormed away in an angry huff.

It all reached an absolute boiling point later into the evening when Cassidy had placed a sleeping Abbie in her mother's bed, (packed into bed with a copious number of plush toys for good measure) and was about to settle into bed alone.

She had just taken her evening shower- a ritual which had gone, surprisingly, without incident or interruption. She had been half-expecting to open the door of her bathroom to find Michael waiting for her with a blindfold in hand.

Instead, she found her dimly lit bedroom completely empty.
"Disappointing," a sick and slightly scarred part of her thought. "I had some really good comebacks prepared for him…"

Cassidy lay out across her bed, laptop screen illuminating her face as she scanned through the latest dig reports that Museum was reviewing. The archaeological team had been called out to two new potential Bronze Age sites. Both sites were supposedly due to become housing estates within the next month, so the clock was ticking and results were an absolute must.

Her eyes briefly flicked upwards to the door of her bedroom when she heard it creak. It was slightly ajar. Before, Cassidy had a hunch that Michael had been dithering around on the landing; now she was almost certain that he was watching her from a distance.

"Why hasn't he tried to come in yet?" Cassidy thought with a frown, shuddering despite herself. "Not that I'm complaining or anything. Am I still "too weak" in his mind or-..?"

That was when it dawned on Cassidy.
A beautiful, wonderful realisation dawned on Cassidy.
He wasn't avoidant of engaging her in amorous relations because he felt that she was too weak.
It was because he was too weak.

Cassidy suddenly had never felt more sadistic in her entire life.

A wicked idea entered her mind and for a moment, the hand of logic and reason fumbled at her throat, trying to collar her and trying to discourage her.
But she couldn't resist.

How many times had he psychologically tortured her?
He absolutely deserved to be made suffer.
And all the better, if she could be the one to make him do so.

Very tentatively, Cassidy ran her hand from the side of her head to her neck- making sure to run her fingers straight through her hair, toying with the still-damp ends.
Her eyes travelled to the door as her hand repeated the same, very deliberate caresses that Michael had once lavished upon her.

Out on the landing, she heard something move.
Something far too big to simply be a little girl wandering around, looking for a glass of water.

"There you are. I know you're out there and I know you're watching. Have a good, long look at what you can't have…"

She continued to stroke her own face and neck, playing with the ends of hair and stretching herself out on the bed. She allowed a curtain of hair to sweep across her face, briefly clinging to the ends and letting her fingers interlace in the web of small knots that had evaded the furious compass of her comb's teeth.

The Archangel remained silent and motionless behind the door and Cassidy, quite enjoying this kind of power-play, gently pushed down the screen of her laptop and stretched out upon the bed.

"What's the matter, Michael?" she called out in jest, closing her eyes and letting her head fall backwards. "Aren't you going to come in? I almost sort of miss our little PDA sessions and I know you can't stand keeping your hands off me…"

Her chin slowly dipped, her eyes fluttering open as she surveyed the rest of the room- only to see the Archangel standing just a few feet away from her.
Rounded on the foot of the bed like a ravenous lion having just cornered its prey and wings, lifted and imposing.

He looked like a true predator.
But the light that faintly illuminated the severe cracks in his abdomen and chest confirmed to a triumphant Cassidy what she already knew.

He was no predator.
If anything, right now, she had him dangling on a bare thread- absolutely helpless in the unfaltering vice of her grip.

The human woman smirked widely, feeling both sadistic and satisfied at the thought that he could not afford to become physical with her, in any sense of the phrase.

"I would have thought you'd be a little more attentive, Michael. What's the matter? Don't you want to touch me? Don't I interest you anymore? Don't I excite you anymore?"

Her words were chosen with a contradicting mixture of care and wanton anger with the specific intention to infuriate.

And infuriate, they did.

"You mock me," the Lonely Assassin growled, his voice both wavering and growing deeper with each syllable. "You are mocking me, human…"

Cassidy's tone of honey was immediately scorched to a dry, cynical sneer. "Oh, good work. What was your first clue?"

"It's truly pathetic. You think you have such a hold over me, don't you?"

"Do I? Don't I?"

"You don't."

"You're quite literally falling to pieces, Michael. Stop living in denial."

Her eyes stayed focused on his chest and when one of her eyelids would spasm, she would playfully wink, ensuring the Archangel stayed bound to the spot.

"Why have you not yet repaired me?" he demanded to know, his anger close to reaching the point of overflow.

"I explained it to you earlier. Just before I put Abigail to bed," she responded, in the same patronising drawl as before. "I need certain supplies from the Museum. Until I have these supplies, repairing you will be pretty damn impossible for me. I won't be able to collect them until Monday so in the meantime, you'll just have to conserve your energy and wait."

"You take delight in the fact that I am in a state of great weakness but should an attacker come, you and the child will both be in grave peril."

"Oh stop pretending that I'm doing this on purpose. For the last time, I'll repair you when I have the supplies. Simple as that." She kneeled up on the bed, very aware of how her dressing gown pooled neatly around her upper thighs. Her face was flushed with the naïve, unaccustomed shame of one who was not used to this sort of behaviour but her eyes glinted with the same sadistic desire to sense the Weeping Archangel's discomfort.

"You tease me, you harlot."
His voice was a lot more menacing than before, filled with a bone-chilling sort of venom that Cassidy hadn't heard since Summer Bank.

"Harlot?" she sneered and she couldn't help but laugh with malice. "I thought it was only too obvious how pure I am?"
Her eyes flicked sideways for a fraction of a second to check for the presence of her aviator sunglasses on the bedside table.

Michael took immediate advantage of his freedom to move and immediately lunged forward, both of his arms coming to entrap the human woman as he leaned over the bed.
Cassidy's breathing hitched and her legs immediately folded underneath herself as she stared up into the Angel's face.

"C-Careful now," she chided, swallowing back her sudden bout of nerves and redirecting her gaze to the cracks that latticed the Archangel's stomach. "You don't want to expend yourself. You'll injure yourself and I won't be able to-…I won't fix you up…"

Her eyelids spasmed, shutting briefly and allowing the Archangel to move closer- his head now slightly over her shoulder, his mouth at the pinna of her left ear.
Heat rose in her face, her elbows quivering as she found a stretch of ardent stone to stare at; when he moved, she had briefly felt his cold skin glide against hers. Flames immediately seemed to ignite between them as electricity danced across her flesh. It was the same electricity that she always felt during their brief moments of insanity; the moments of insanity when the two of them briefly threw resent, distrust, disgust, hatred and logic to the wind and completely surrendered to each other.

The phantom feeling of his lips on hers and his arms holding her against his chest haunted her, inspiring want moreso than fear.
Regardless, she refused to cower or quake.

"Stay away," Cassidy warned, her voice firm but lowered to a whisper. "You know you can't risk losing me and you know you can't risk hurting yourself…and that's exactly what'll happen if you don't get out of here right now."

Michael chuckled slightly, the pseudo-human voice punctuated by an unearthly rumble in his lower throat. "How quickly you change your tune when you're challenged, little bird First you beckon but when I come, you deflect." His voice deepened but was suddenly overtaken by a resounding hush. "But you force me to consider…would giving into temptation…however briefly…be worth it?" A low growl, soft with the smallest hint of imposition, entered his voice- providing a bass-line to the already-silken baritone that sent heated ripples from the human's chest outward. "If I were suddenly to indulge my passions with you…would it all be worth the pain?"

She slowly bit down on the inside of her mouth; he knew of the effect that he had on her.
But she was more than aware of the effect that she had on him.
Desire could make him weak- she knew that for certain.
It was time to seize control.

Cassidy felt her lower lip tremble but she dared to lean backwards, slowly lifting head so that their eyes met. "I am not your little bird." She glared into the blank stare of the Archangel, defiant. "And if you want to give into temptation…indulge and all that…" She lay back fully, pouting her lips and slowly tugging at the point where her robe was bound to her body. "Be my guest." Her lips curled into a sneer, contempt playing across her mouth. "But if you do…you can deal with the consequences."

Daringly, she bent one of her legs at the knee, letting it brush against the hard stone of the Angel's side as she continued to stare up into his eyes.

She felt a burgeoning pressure settle across her temples as Michael's special ability began to take hold. She remembered what had happened during Summer Bank as a result of this effect but before a single speck of grit could pass from her eyes, he let go.
His hold on her, dissipated.
Slowly, she allowed her eyelids to lower.

When she opened them once more, the Archangel was gone.
A smile spread across her face as she rose to shut the still-open door.
She had won.

She had won.

She had won.

She kept repeating this mantra over and over again as she settled into her bed.
Despite the truth in these words, however, she marked the change in her breathing, her heightened heart rate and the heat in her face.

And something else.

Something else that was frightening and physiological that she didn't quite want to come to terms with.
Not yet anyway.

"Ok, just keep up your eyes open for a little bit longer!"
"But they're all scratchy…"

However many disagreements they had, Cassidy and Michael did manage to agree on one thing and that was that Abigail- however clever- still had an unfortunate habit.
This habit was one that all children had: the desire to turn away from something frightening.

"I know, Abbie, but it's really important that you keep your eyes open as long as you can- even if they feel a bit sore. Can you wink?"
"No…Leon can wink but he never teached me."

The human woman and the Archangel originally had been trying their utmost to train Abbie to not react fearfully at the sight of a feral Angel but if Michael so much as bore his teeth at the child- she would instantly turn and run for the nearest pair of adult legs (namely Cassidy's).
Now they had turned to the little girl's second most troublesome trait which was her inability to keep her eyes open for prolonged periods of time.

"Come on Abbie…just find something to look at and keep staring at that…imagine it turning into something really interesting…"
"Imagining is easier to do with my eyes closed."

Cassidy took a step backwards, giving the little girl a bit more space before nodding to Michael. "Ok, let's try again, then. Remember Abbie, keep your eyes on Michael's tummy. Don't let him get closer to you." She waited for the tiny red-head to give a confirming nod before she closed her own eyes.

She counted under her breath: "One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…"

"You can open your eyes," Michael's deep voice informed her. "I would have caught her by now. She's three seconds earlier than before. She's deteriorating."

Cassidy opened her eyes with an exasperated sigh, only to see the Archangel standing right in front of Abbie, his arms folded.

Abbie tilted her head up at him, partially chewing on the side of her hand. "What does deet-ear-iminating mean?"

"It means that you are slowly becoming more and more of a liability to us, child," replied the Archangel.

"What does library-ti-lee mean?"

"It means that you are more than likely going to be the cause of my death, Cassidy's death and your own."

Abbie whimpered and Cassidy grunted in annoyance, moving forward to hug the little girl. "Stop being so nasty to her. She can't help it. She's doing her best…"

"Her best? Her best will not be sufficient if she is forced to stand alone against a flock of my kind."

"Well, your best is going to have to be good enough for the both of you then, isn't it?" Cassidy snapped, glaring up at Michael from over Abbie's shoulder. "Don't forget. You're here to protect her as much as you are to protect me."

Out in the hallway, the phone rang. Cassidy's frown deepened and she slowly stood herself upright. "I need to get that. You two be good while I'm out of the room." She looked to Abbie. "If he causes any trouble, scream and come running out to me." She looked to Michael. "Don't you dare give her any reason to come running out of this room. Got it?"

Abbie nodded eagerly, her head bobbing and her hair bouncing at her ears.
Michael gave a low grunt in response.

Cassidy kept looking over her shoulder as she walked out of the sitting room door and into the hallway, until the little girl and the Weeping Angel were just barely out of her sight.
Silently cursing herself for not yet having bought a cordless phone, she lifted the hand-piece to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Cass? It's Nancy."

"Oh, hey. How're you?"

Cassidy felt a slight pang of disappointment. She had actually been expecting a call from Edmund. The two of them were planning to go out to lunch on Monday to talk over some of the new exhibits and the dating scheme. It had been his idea to try the newest Indian restaurant in the city and as such, Cassidy had dubbed making the reservations as his duty.

However snarky and haughty Edmund could be, Cassidy had come to quite enjoy his company. He took her mind off the storm that currently raged and reigned over her life and restored her to some kind of normality.

"Mum and I are heading Christmas shopping on Thursday. Listen, I know you've work but we were wondering if you'd like to come with us? We could head in late…"

Christmas.
Cassidy had been so wrapped up in keeping herself alive during the last few weeks that she had completely forgotten that Christmas was right around the corner.
She found herself muttering "yes"-es and "no"-s into the phone as Nancy rambled on, talking about watching the Christmas lights being turned on, coming around to help her decorate and the fact that Christine would be doing dinner that year.

It was actually she and her mother's turn.
Maria had always hated doing dinner- she had always said that traditional Christmas food made her feel queasy, the sheer size of the turkey usually intimidated her and she had never seen why curry and couscous didn't quite constitute a "festive" meal.

Cassidy clapped a hand over her mouth, a heavy breath overtaking her and a sudden, harsh pain finding its way from the centre of her chest to the very edges of her body.
She must have made a sound of some kind because Nancy stopped mid-sentence and asked with concern:

"Cass…is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah…mmm…fine…fine," she managed to choke out, trying to force a violently shaky smile as the first tear made its hesitant journey over the brim of her eye and ran, shivering, down her cheek . "Just have a little cold, I think. Throat's getting kind of tickly."

Nancy sounded sorely unconvinced in her reply. "Oh, yeah? I guess…there's been something going around. It's that time of year, alright."

Cassidy sniffed back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Mhmm. So if I meet you and Christine out the front of Primark at my break on Thursday, we can head to Arnotts' first…" Her voice was warbling dangerously as she spoke.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Nancy cut across her dismissively. "Cass, are you sure you're alright?" Her cousin's voice became a little more cautious, a little more concerned. "I could like…I could come over if you wanted-…"

"No!" Cassidy said sharply, quickly realising how awful she sounded and back-pedalling dramatically. "No…I mean, no thank you…but I'm really busy right now. Lots of work to get through. Tons of paperwork for the Museum before we shut for Christmas. Digs to check up on…artefacts to catalogue…"

"It's not good for you to spend all your time working. Take a break, this afternoon! I'll come 'round. We'll have tea, catch up on-…"

"No," Cassidy repeated. "You can't…I…" She desperately scraped the furthest corner of her mind for a good excuse, finding inspiration in the sight of Edmund's phone number scrawled across the notepad beside the dial-pad. "Edmund's coming over. Edmund from work…"

"Edmund? Ed Potter? You've got him coming ov-? Oh. Oh. Ah, I see…"

Cassidy felt her face start to burn at what she had just unwittingly implied but before she could say anything else, Nancy was already cooing on the other end of the phone.

"Ahh!" she went on, her voice instantly brightening, (and Cassidy could practically hear the smirk on her face). "I knew that you and that Edmund guy had something going on. It was so obvious after that exhibition that you took us to, the one that he presented at? I was talking to him afterwards and he couldn't stop going on about how you were one of the best apprentices in the group…"

Cassidy was already partially deaf to Nancy's twittering, the pain slowly straying from her chest to her stomach and spreading across her entire body. Her throat grew tight, her stomach contracting forebodingly.
Why did she have to remind her that Christmas was coming?

She could barely remember saying goodbye to Nancy: she was only vaguely aware that the woman had been saying something insipid and pointless about which Christmas gifts were appropriate to buy for a potential suitor.

Her back hit the wall with a dull thud as she dropped the hand-piece back into the slot, hanging up the phone. Her shoulders concaved, her chest rapidly rising and falling as her body succumbed to the first, few painful sobs.

All it took was a long, internal glance at the fine patchwork of memories that she so desperately clung to: the memories of her mother at Christmas time.
At first, these memories wrapped around her- keeping her warm and protected.
But then, a slow realisation with a painful, sharpened edge began to manifest- travelling downwards and tearing through her protective barrier.
It was the realisation that she would never share another one of these memories with her mother again.

"The first Christmas without her is going to be the hardest but it'll get easier in time," the vicar had told her. "Make sure you spend it with friends…family…keep people near…Maria wouldn't have wanted you to be alone."

Cassidy buried her face in her hands, sobbing with heart-break and anguish.
The dark cloud that had stretched over her head had begun to descend,the sadness suddenly overtaking her again as her mind sank down.
Lower and lower.
Until she could no longer see the surface above her head.

Meanwhile, a seven year old girl attempted to make conversation with a Weeping Archangel.

They had played the "No-Blinking" Game once or twice since Cassidy had hurried off to take a phone-call.
She hadn't been all that good at the game and she could tell that Michael was getting grumpy.

Michael was sort of like Leon; he didn't he shout when he got grumpy, he just got quiet and tried not to talk.
Abigail was certainly glad that Michael had decided to be a good angel now but he could still be a little bit scary every now and then.

"Do you like this game, Michael?" she asked the Angel, sitting down at the folds of his stone robe.

"This is no game, child. This is your training…"

"But do you like it?"

"I find it trying and monotonous and ultimately fruitless but Cassidy desires your survival and I desire her to be in good form because my survival is linked to us. Thus, I am willing to entertain it…"

Abigail didn't quite understand every single word that the bizarre, statuesque alien that stood before her but occasionally, he came out with something or other that she could actually understand.
"You want Cassidy to be happy?"

"…yes."

Abigail stood up and moved to sit on the sofa, rather amused with the fact that with each blink, Michael's head moved a little bit more, turning to face her.
He reminded her of a little puppet made of clay that Leon had once showed her. He could take photographs of the puppet on his camera- he'd move a little bit of the puppet every time- and when he put them all together, the puppet looked like it was moving on its own.

Michael didn't look completely like a puppet made of clay but now that he had decided to be good, Abigail could notice facts of his appearance that she found interesting-rather than scary.
Like his hair.
His hair looked sort of curly, like hers.
She wondered if Michael had ginger hair too.

Another thing that Abbie was now free to notice were certain facts of Michael's behaviour that she found interesting.
Rather than scary.

"Michael…you were talking to me before and you said that you wanted to take Cassy away so that it could just be you and her. Do you still want to do that?"

"It would be optimal."

Abbie didn't know what "optimal" meant but she didn't want Michael to get grumpy again so she nodded the same way that her brother did when he didn't know what something meant, (like when Abbie felt the need to use Moshi Monsters terminology when speaking).

"I see," Abbie said, copying Leon with the kind of mastery that only a seven-year-old can achieve. "You said that you liked Cassy. Do you love Cassy?"

She sat back into the sofa, folding her hands over her tummy and watching the Angel.

"I like Cassidy. I have told you that already, infant."

"No but do you love Cassidy?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Yeah! There's a big difference!"

"What is the difference?"

That was a hard question.
Abigail plopped her chin down on to her hands, resting her elbows on her knees, thinking very deeply about the topic.

"I think when you like something, you just want it around you sometimes…and uh, maybe around you…a lot…because it makes you feel good…but when you love something…or someone…uh…you want it …or the person, uh…around because…you feel like you couldn't feel good with something…or someone…uh…different…"

Abigail wasn't entirely happy with her own answer but she waited with baited breath for Michael to respond.

"Do you mean to ask," the Weeping Archangel finally responded after a few moments of quietness. "whether or not I value Cassidy?"

The little girl decided that this was probably the closest thing to progress that she was going to get and nodded. "…yes."

"I value Cassidy very highly."

"Then why do you hurt her?"

"…because she seeks to betray me. She challenges me. She infuriates me."

Abbie folded her legs up on to the sofa. "But you make her sad sometimes. You can make her happy sometimes too. When she first found you, you made her really happy and sometimes when you talk with her, you make her happy for a few seconds but then she's sad again…" She found a loose thread on her t-shirt and fumbled with it. "Do you like it better when she's happy or when she's sad?"

Michael made the noise that adults tended to make when they didn't want to be talking to her but felt as if they had to. "I prefer when she is happy."

"Do you want Cassidy to be happy all the time?" Abbie asked, quickly adding after a second thought: "Answer with a yes or a no."

The Archangel made the noise again before answering. "Yes."

Abbie sat back against the sofa. "I know how you can make Cassy happy…"

"Oh, do you? Enlighten me, child."

"First," Abbie orated, lifting a finger and wagging it authoritatively. "No hitting. Hitting is bad for everyone." She paused to make a face like her teacher Miss Kapuur did when she was trying to make everyone in the class quiet. "And second, you have to say things to her…"

"…say things."

"Say words," Abbie told him. "The best way to make Cassy happy is to say words to her."

"Child, pray tell what precisely you think I have been using to communicate in the duration of my time with her?"

"I know you use words already but there are special words that you have to use," she explained. "Words that show that you really do want her to be happy."

Michael's face didn't change from a very serious expression, but his voice sounded as though he was laughing. "Oh? What has made you an expert in this area?"

"Cassy is like me."

"In what manner is Cassidy like you?"

"We both have no mummy and daddy and that's why we get sad sometimes. I know when Cassidy gets sad, she doesn't get loud-sad. She gets quiet-sad. When you get quiet-sad, people don't always know that you're sad and they're afraid to say anything. Sometimes, you don't even know why you are sad! But you are and it makes people act weird so they don't say anything…but there are things they can say that will make you feel better…"

"And what are these things? What are these words?"

Abigail smiled triumphantly, sitting up straight. "I'll teach you. Next time Cassy gets sad, you just have to say something like this."

And so the little girl shared her knowledge with the Weeping Archangel.
And he was silent while she spoke.
So the very-optimistic little girl could only assume that he was listening.

Despair seemed to be a net from which she was finding herself repeatedly caught in and every time she found herself ensnared, she found it more and more difficult to escape.

The dark cloud that stretched over her head was forever pregnant, forever threatening to pour down over her head. It didn't matter how prepared she was for each break.
When the break eventually came, it was painful and harsh and powerful and her downward spiral seemed entirely permanent.

She nursed her forehead with the heels of her palms, tears pouring freely down her face as feelings of guilt and anxiety cascaded over her.

Everything she had seen. Everything that she had done.
Everything that had happened to her.
Everything.
And why did it have to happen to her?

It felt as though she was living someone else's life.
Or playing the role of an actress in some kind of supernatural drama.
It was as though she had stepped outside of some kind of barrier and was part of a world that she had never asked to be a part of and that any day now, she'd wake up in her bed, come downstairs to find her mother eating toast and watching Coronation Street, she'd go to work, she'd co-ordinate digs, restore statues, clean up artefacts… She'd gossip with Louisa, she'd argue with Edmund, she'd try to flirt with Leon, she'd muck around with Abbie and at the the end of the day, she'd head home. It would be boring. It would be beautiful.

Suddenly there a high-pitched scream rang out across the hall.
Cassidy's eyes shot open and she immediately got to her feet, running back into the sitting room. Her blood instantly ran cold.

What had possessed her to think that leaving that psychopathic monster alone with Abigail?

"I swear to God! If you've laid a hand on her, I'm going to-!"

Cassidy paused at the door-frame, needing a brief second to take in what she was currently looking at.
Yes, Abigail had been screaming.
But she wasn't afraid.

The little girl was grinning widely, shrieking with laughter where she stood, staring up at the Angel of stone. "Again! Do it again!" She turned to face Cassidy. "Cassy! Close your eyes! Michael and me are doing Red Light, Green Light!"
Abbie strode back to the other side of the sitting room, smiling toothily at the older woman. "Go ahead, close your eyes."

In a kind of numb disbelief, Cassidy slowly closed her eyes only to hear more soft giggles and another sudden shriek of joy. When she opened her lids to the sitting room, Abigail was shuddering with a look of glee on her face and Michael was directly at the little girl's back, crouched over, with one hand on her shoulder.

Cassidy did not know how to feel about the fact that there was a very amused, very jovial smile on the Archangel's face.

"You got me again!" the little girl chirped, clasping her hands and trying to still her own excited laughter as she turned slightly to look at him. "Gah! Your hand is all stone…it feels weird…"

She looked away and Cassidy took the hint to do the same.
As positively perverse as it was, there was something almost endearing about a creature so vicious and malign, cheerful in the presence of such a helpless, innocent being like Abbie.

And for some reason, a vein of sunlight broke through the dark cloud.

"So…you are capable of showing compassion," Cassidy murmured to him later, her eyes sliding sideways to where the tired little girl lay curled up on the sofa. She wasn't quite asleep yet but it was more than evident that she was well on her way to the Land of Nod.

"I never claimed that I was not," the Archangel retorted, having returned to his place of vigil just behind the sofa, his pale grey hide glinting slightly under the glow of the fire. Despite the cracks that lined his body, heralding his weakness- Michael still managed to look regal in the wake of the lights that leapt amongst the crackling wood in the grate.

"No. You didn't need to," Cassidy muttered, her eyes dropping downward. "Your actions spoke for themselves…"

"Cassy, is there a painting of this movie in the Museum?" Abbie suddenly squeaked aloud, shifting beneath her blankets, drowsy as she nodded towards the television.

"Uh…" Cassidy took a moment to remind herself of the movie that she had put on. "Beauty and the Beast? Yes. Uh… yes, there is."

Abbie nodded. "Leon told me about it. I haven't saw it yet though. Is Belle wearing her golden dress in it?"

"No…a white one."

"White?" Abbie frowned, yawning a little. "But Belle doesn't wear a white dress in the film. The painter got the colour wrong…"

"She wears a white dress in the original story. See, the people at Disney World didn't make up the story," Cassidy explained, deciding that further explanation was probably warranted. "A very clever lady from France wrote it as a book many, many years ago and they're the ones who made it into a film."

"Like Harry Potter?"

"Exactly."

Abbie's little eyes went wide. "Oh…and Belle wears a white dress it? Is it very different to this film?"

"Some parts are. The Beast doesn't have any talking furniture. He lives all alone. Belle also has two stepsisters who are very jealous of her. When their father leaves home, the two sisters ask for gold and jewels but all Belle wants is a red rose. That's why the Beast decides to keep Belle's father as a prisoner: the father tries to steal a red rose from the Beast's garden for Belle…"

"Belle is like Cinderella," Abigail contemplated in hushed tones, her eyes widened slightly as she huddled up beneath her blanket. "It's like two princesses in one story." The little girl was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "You like red roses, don't you, Cassy? Leon said that before."

"Yes, Cassidy does like red roses," Michael confirmed aloud, a kind of condescending smugness in his voice that made the human woman want to throw a punch into his jaw, regardless of the consequences.

"Is that because Belle is your favourite princess?"

Cassidy shrugged, ignoring Michael's input. "She's one of my favourites, alright."

"Me too," Abigail said absent-mindedly, scrabbling around the sofa for the notepad that she had been drawing on earlier. "Hey, did you say that a clever lady wrote Beauty and the Beast?"

"I did."

"Do you think I could write a story like her and Disney would make a film of it?"

Cassidy smiled faintly. "I definitely think so."

Looking rather delighted, Abigail sought a fistful of crayons from a nearby plastic tub and began scribbling on the pages on her lap. "Hey, Michael?" she added, as she worked. "What's your favourite Disney movie?"

"My kind do not find the same frivolity or solace that your kind seem to find in these odd works of fiction."

"That's a lie," Cassidy interjected, with a strong tone of condescending smugness. "Weeping Angels have myths. You told some of them to me…"

"Those are the sacred legends that underpin the beliefs and culture of my people."

"And those," Cassidy gestured towards the television as she spoke. "Are the sacred legends that underpin the beliefs and culture of our people. Case and point."

It wasn't religion. It wasn't the Torah, the Qu'ran, the Bible, any of the Vedas or any other sacred scripture of any kind.
It was Disney.
But Cassidy was just tired, upset and irritable enough simply to want to take as many snide shots at Michael as she could manage.

"Weeping Angels have stories!? Aliens have stories?! I want to hear those stories!" Abbie beamed, sitting up straight. Her head was still bobbing with the lingering beckons of slumber but her interest had been piqued. "Tell a story, Michael."

"Yes, Michael," Cassidy drawled seethingly. "Tell a story."

"Certainly not. I am not an object nor a trinket of your futile entertainments."

"But please," Abbie whined. "But please!"

"Oh go on. Don't disappoint her. Not after you were being so nice earlier," the human woman taunted, crossing her legs. The Archangel went silent and Cassidy held her breath; he was being too nice earlier. Michael may have been weak but he was still the same being as before. He was still the same monster as before and the moment he was restored to any kind of strength- he would find an opportunity to offer some form of retribution. It was fun to tease him but she had to be wary of what he was still capable of and what he eventually would be capable of once more.

"Very well, I will tell one," the living statue finally said aloud with far too much humour in his voice for Cassidy's liking. "But only provided that Cassidy tells one after I am finished."

Abbie looked over at the archaeologist with big, pleading eyes. "Oh! That'd be really cool! Oh, will you tell one too, Cassy?"

"Cassy" shot a glower back at Michael- who was now wearing a smirk to match his snide tone.
"Fine…but you're going first…"

"I made no attempt to contest that. What kind of story do you wish to hear?"

"A story where the people in it are in love each other," Abigail piped up, her note-paper rustling in her lap as she scrabbled to find more crayons.

Cassidy flinched when she looked up to see that the Weeping Archangel was now standing beside the fire, his eyes now on her in an intense stare. She quickly redirected her gaze to the lower folds of his robes, leaning drawing her legs up beneath her body.

"Many years ago," Michael began, his voice low and a little more hushed than usual. "Many, many years ago…there lived a young Angel. She lost her tribe when she was little more than a fledgling and so she was forced to become very strong and very resilient in order to survive. Upon the fall of night- when darkness stole over the land, she would fly to the hunting ground. She would take her fill, hunting and feeding and would manage to return to her place of safety before the rise of the first sun. She would do this by flying, safe at the darkest hour of the night…"

Cassidy's eyes slowly wandered from the Archangel, to the scribbling little girl to the fireplace. She watched the flames where they danced upon the tinder, the crackling coals glowing and latticed with lines of orange and yellow.

"However, one night, the young Angel was attacked by a great beast. Though she managed to slaughter the creature before it could cripple her, it managed to badly mutilate her wings. Injured and unable to fly, the Angel fearfully awaited the coming of the sun…aware that the creatures of the day would soon be upon her and in her defensive state, she would be vulnerable…in order to console herself, she began to…" Michael paused for a moment before continuing. "I suppose humans would say that she began to sing. Her singing carried off into the depths of the woods and an Archangel heard her. Following the beautiful, mournful sound, he soon happened upon her. After just a few moments of speaking with her, the Archangel was deeply taken with the Angel and he decided that he would do anything to win her favour…"

"Oh? He was actually giving her a say in the matter? Interesting," Cassidy bitterly muttered under her breath, resting her chin upon her hand. Admittedly she was enjoying the story.
Admittedly, she would sooner die before she confessed that aloud.

"The Angel was too stubborn at first to accept his help but soon fearing for her own life, she was forced to allow him to aid her. The Archangel took her into his arms and carried her back to her place of sanctuary. He stayed by her side during the daylight hours to ensure that she was comfortably recovering and during that time the Angel learned to accept his care. That night, he carried her back to her hunting grounds, helped her to feed and then brought her back to safety. He repeated this labour every night until the Angel had recovered fully. When the Angel realised that she could fly once more, she beseeched the Archangel not to leave her and he agreed to always remain by her side as her guardian and mate…"

"And the Archangel was the great hero of the story. You're fucking transparent, Michael," Cassidy thought, settling back against the sofa with a faint smile. For some reason, the story reminded her of one of her favourite fairytales or comic books and warmth washed over her.

"After the turn of a year, the Angel fell pregnant and the Archangel took on the duty of hunting for the two of them. On one occasion, however, tragedy befell them. The Archangel was attacked by the vengeful family of the beast that had once attacked his mate. Barely alive, he managed to return to her, wanting to see his mate one last time before he was to submit to the eternal dark…but she was unwilling to accept his death. She cared for him so deeply that she realised that she could not live without him.
Deciding that there was only one possible way that she could save him, she lifted him into her arms and enduring incredible pain, the strong Angel carried her mate to the top of the highest mountain in the land. When they reached the top of the mountain, she laid her mate upon the ground and prayed to the three suns to help him. The first sun passed by, harsh and callous. The second sun passed by, indifferent and uncaring.
The third sun took pity on the Angel and was so moved by her cry for help that it cast its golden rays down upon them and gave the Archangel all the years of its life with the condition that the two of them would remain in this land and ensure that the second sun never failed to set…" Michael's voice trailed away briefly before returning. "They kept this promise and they passed on this duty to their cherubs… and from that day on, the planet was warmed by two suns and two suns alone. The Lonely Assassins living upon the surface of the planet, from that day forth, looked to the sky and seeing the two suns would recall the two Angels whose bond was so strong that they darkened the third. "

Cassidy lowered her gaze to her lap, her fingers gently interlacing as her mind returned to the room. As much as she absolutely hated to admit it, the Archangel was good at telling stories.
"Mhmm…well, that was nice…don't you think so, Abbie?"

She looked over at the little girl, only to see that she had fallen asleep, bundled up in a blanket, crayons still in hand.

"Harsh luck. Looks like you've lost part of your audience," the human woman murmured.

"I am not too deterred. I imagine the myth might not have been fully appreciated by her…"

Cassidy flinched when she turned back to see that her once-beloved statue-project was sitting beside her on the sofa, one arm draped across the back of the cushions and his wings spread.

"…Earth doesn't have two suns though," she murmured, sitting back against the pillows at her shoulders. "Or at least I'm almost certain that we've never had more than one."

"The story did not take place on Earth."

"Oh? Where was it set then?"

"Gallifrey. The planet of the Time Lords." Michael's voice deepened to an darkly accentuated growl. "The home planet of your "Doctor" friend…"

Cassidy's stomach clenched at the mention of the Doctor's name and immediately she found her mouth had been spurred on to start working. "Are Weeping Angels from Gallifrey too?"

"No, but a large colony of my kind inhabited it for many, many centuries," the Archangel replied. "Many of our legends originate from there."

"It's another planet," Cassidy breathed softly, smiling despite herself when she was reminded of the fact that the universe was so much bigger than she had ever imagined. In fact, if it hadn't been for the manner in which she had been dragged into this whole situation, Cassidy might have been a little more elated by the whole situation. "What's it like? Gallifrey, I mean…is it like Earth? The Doctor is an alien but he looks human. Do all Time Lords look human?"

She was perfectly aware that speaking about the Doctor to an already-irritable Michael was treading dangerous waters but her curiosity was starting to overcome her better senses.

"Yes. They are quite similar to humans in appearance. They are most certainly not similar to humans in behaviour though...as for the planet…it is by far more magnificent than earth. There are fields of rubious hue, mountains that glow- gilded during the light of day and are capped with ardent pastures of snow…"

"Wow, sounds positively Utopian…and you sound like you loved it…after being there, why the hell would you want to return to boring old Earth?"

"I was never there. My images of Gallifrey are based upon my mother's stories and the images she showed me when I was in my cherub years." There was a kind of melancholy note to his voice.

"Why haven't you ever gone there?"

"Why not?"

"I am not strong enough."

"Well, when you're back in shape again?"

"I will still not be strong enough." He made a noise akin to sighing in exasperation. "We can travel within time and space to an extent but that kind of distance would only be accessible to an Archangel well above my years."

"When you grow up then?"

"Even then, I shall never see Gallifrey in its physical form."

"Don't be pessimistic, Michael. It's highly unattractive."

"I shan't because it is destroyed. Beyond repair and without a single trace to hint at its existence aside from a few stray, renegade Time Lords and the stories that people tell of it…" His voice trailed off to silence.

Cassidy blinked, slightly sceptical. "…what? The entire planet? How could an entire planet be destroyed without a trace?"
She slowly looked in his direction.

"It was blown to pieces. During the Great Time War…"

"Blown to pieces? Like…it exploded? How?" The idea of an entire planet having been violently destroyed was something that Cassidy had previously seen in science-fiction films and shuddered at. Though, the thought of it being possible in reality inspired a kind of paranoid, existential terror that she had never known before.

"The details of the ending of the war are…vague and debated in equal amounts," the Archangel replied. "There are those that say that the Time Lords were in possession of some kind of weapon. A weapon of unimaginable power. Gallifrey being consumed by the conflagration is largely speculated to be at the beck and wake of this weapon."

Cassidy shifted where she sat, crossing her legs and looking at the creature who had once held her captive. In a strange way, she was slowly coming to realise, she was now the one holding him captive.
Of course, his benefit in this situation was mutual…or at least she needed him to keep believing that.

It was so strange.
So very, very strange.
She hated him. She was very certain that she absolutely hated him.
Yet, she was curious of him. Tantalised by him. At times, almost reverent of him.
At her core, she feared him.

No, that was inaccurate.
She feared what he was capable of doing.
As for her feelings towards Michael- Iblis- as an individual, she was still uncertain.

As much as she could not wait for the day when he would be gone from her life, Cassidy often found herself longing for these odd little gaps in their usual spiteful games of back-and-forth.
For the times when they would simply talk.
Both assuming the roles of amnesiacs to their situation and the history that had brought them there.

"And what do you think about it all? Do you think the weapon really existed?"

"I am uncertain. I do feel, however, that the Time Lords would have done anything to end their fight with the Daleks. They were becoming quite desperate in their struggles."

"Daleks," Cassidy repeated, letting her eyes stray from the Archangel, hearing the drag of his feathers as his wings pulled along the floor. "Are Daleks another type of alien? Are they like the Time Lords?"

"Yes," Michael replied with a slight growl. "Pathetic creatures of soft flesh and slime hiding in hulking canisters of metal. Once a proud race reduced by mindless conformity to a hoard of helpless, virtually single-minded mutants."

"What was their problem with the Time Lords?"

"The Daleks have a "problem" with every other species in the universe. They believe themselves to be superior race and that Daleks alone should solely inhabit every world."

"Really?" Cassidy raised her eyebrows, smirking faintly. "So they're just like Weeping Angels then?"

Michael snarled with derision, the feral sound sending spikes of panic from her shoulders to her fingertips. "No. Do not compare my race to theirs. We are nothing alike the Daleks. They allowed one leader to mutilate their entire species. They destroyed their own heritage in a vain, mindless attempt to assert themselves as the ultimate beings…to pervert the nature of the Angel's form, to suggest the idea that our biology could somehow be improved? This is heresy among my people…" Humour briefly restored itself in Michael's voice when he added. "And we Angels do not agree with the idea that we, alone, should inhabit the universe. After all, we must pay respect to the food chain, my dear Cassidy. Predator and prey share a close relationship with each other…"

"Oh yeah. One runs. One chases. One dies. One eats. Great relationship, that is."

"A hunted species becomes intelligent if it cannot grow stronger. When its prey grows intelligent, the predator must become more intelligent. The developments of a predator race and a prey race are intrinsically linked. Deny it if you would like but the truth is evident in all of nature…"

"Hmpf. All of nature." Cassidy rested her head back. "My head's still swimming at the fact that "nature" possibly includes more planets than just earth…"

"So much more than just earth. I've been to the future of this world. Humans will one day go beyond this tiny star-system and colonise many planets across galaxies. Earth-born humans will one day considered to be quite the provincial sort."

"Oh and what about Earth-born Angels?"

"Exotic and well-bred by nature."

"Of course."

"You've diverted the topic of conversation far too much for my liking, Cassidy. I believe it was agreed that upon the completion of my story- you would tell yours."

The woman rolled her eyes before nodding towards the bundled up little girl. "Abbie is asleep."

"I am not speaking on behalf of the child. I am speaking on my own behalf. I would like to hear a story from you…"

Cassidy groaned, massaging her temples but clearing her throat. Petulant and trying as he was, this was somewhat of a welcome distraction. "Well, what kind of story do you want to hear?" she asked, a note of mocking in her voice.

"During our time with the Angels of the Summer Bank, you briefly alluded to a myth you held in great favour. You went into very little detail about it though you did mention that it was about a god who came to love a human…"

"Eros and Psyche. Yes. I remember. You laughed at it. You said it sounded stupid…"

"I doubt I used that particular phrasing but, I'll admit, implausible as the idea is- I am intrigued as to why you favour it so highly. I wish to hear it. "

Cassidy sighed, turning her head to see that he was now looking down at her, his perfectly serene face quite an alien sight to her nowadays. "Fair is fair, I suppose." She looked downward, her vision fading as she spoke. "Once upon a time…there was a young woman named Psyche. She was so brave, so kind, so intelligent and so beautiful that everyone who met her, instantly loved her." Cassidy was very aware of the slight warble that came into her voice every time she tried to narrate anything; it was the reason why she tried to avoid giving presentations at the Museum. "A great oracle- a seer of the future- predicted that Psyche's first love would be a love that would change the course of history and that she would either wed a powerful god- which was heresy- or a monster. Concerned for his daughter's safety, Psyche's father prayed to the gods to save her. The King of all gods, Zeus, decreed that no human should be endowed with such power and sent Eros- the god of passion- to shoot a black arrow through her heart that would prevent her from ever loving another…"

Cassidy's face became warm as she remembered Leon's blunt and bland response to the story.
The memory must have engaged her far more than she had initially realised because the next thing she heard was the Archangel's uncharacteristically gentle coaxing.

"Go on."

"Ah…yeah. Sorry. So, the winged god Eros flew to earth and found Psyche but the moment that he saw her, he desired her. After a day of following her, he fell deeply in love with her. It wasn't long before Psyche was telling her father about strange dreams she'd been having…dreams about a beautiful man calling out to her and asking her to come with him. Afraid that the prophecy would soon be fulfilled, her father decided that the kindest thing to do would be to kill her. He told her that he had arranged a marriage for her and that her husband would meet her at the top of a tall mountain. After reaching the summit of the mountain, Psyche's father instructed her to jump off the cliff because her husband would catch her. She did so…"

"Heh, foolish human."

"She loved her father enough to trust his word! That's not foolish!" Cassidy said sharply. "And don't interrupt me…where was I? Oh yeah, so she jumped. She jumped but Eros was watching and he would not allow his love to be killed so he ordered the north wind to carry her to a special palace that he had built for her. He filled the palace with everything that her heart could possibly desire and created servants made of clay to tend to her every whim…but he knew the gods would disapprove of his actions, so he had to ensure that firstly, she would never leave him and secondly that she would never find out that he was a god..."

"And how was this accomplished?"

Cassidy's brow furrowed as she spoke, her voice dropping slightly as the words left her mouth. "He…met her in the dark…so that she couldn't see him. He wedded her in the dark and every night, he'd come to her bedside in the pitch black and leave before morning came. Psyche soon grew to love Eros as deeply as he loved her. But in the back of her mind, the prophecy regarding her marriage haunted her." Cassidy swallowed. "She loved Eros but when he touched her, she wondered whether she had agreed to marry a god or a monster. She begged him to allow her to look at him in the light but he refused her, saying that it was for both her good and his. One night when she bade her husband good night and was certain that he was sleeping, she took an oil lamp that she had hidden by their bedside and held it up to see the being that slept beside her…"

"…and what did she see, Cassidy? A monster or a god?"

"She saw…" Cassidy swallowed. "She saw…a beautiful creature. She was so taken by his beauty that she forgot herself, forgot where she was and allowed a single drop of oil to fall upon his skin. He awoke and saw that she had looked upon him. Feeling betrayed, Eros fled the palace, leaving Psyche alone. She was heartbroken and desperately wanted to bring her husband back…whether or not it was good for her." She sat back against the lounge seat. "She decided that a creature of such beauty had to have come from the gods, so she went to Mount Olympus where the deities resided. She scaled the mountain until she reached the summit. The first god she encountered was Aphrodite, Eros' mother…and Eros' mummy was not happy when Psyche claimed to be Eros' wife. Oh, not at all… Aphrodite decided that killing the human would be too quick and would not satisfy her. So she told Psyche that the only way that she would ever see Eros again was if she won the approval of the gods by completing three impossible tasks…"

"And what were the tasks?"

Cassidy watched as the last of the flames performed a final pas de deux, fading in the apron of the grate like dancers at curtain-fall. She stood up slowly, running her fingers through her hair and casting a glance at the sleeping child. "I'll tell you if you help me take Abbie up to bed." She stretched her arms out. "I almost dropped her last time…"

It wasn't until Abigail was huddled up beneath covers of pink and blue and Cassidy was in her baggiest t-shirt and shorts and was comfortably seated upon the quilt atop her bed that she saw fit to continue the story. Michael was a surprisingly diligent listener aside from the general snort of derision or the occasional noise of amusement.

"…so on the way out of Hades, Psyche's curiosity got the better of her. For the first time, Aphrodite's plan had begun to work. Psyche opened the box in her arms and the curse inside flew out and into her eyes, trapping her in an eternal sleep. Psyche fell down upon the steps of Hades, trapped in a slumber that made her dead to the world. In the meantime, Eros had been seeking out his wife. He couldn't stay angry at her. Eventually, he came to learn that she had come to Olympus and had last spoken to his mother. He confronted Aphrodite and when she eventually came out with the truth…he was less than enthusiastic."

"I can only imagine how angry he became."

"Oh, he was furious. He immediately ran to her side and found her sleeping. Try as he might, he could not wake her. Filled with sorrow, he pressed his lips to hers…"

"And he gave her Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation, of course."

"No, no, no…he kissed her."

"And what effect did that have? I'm assuming it had an effect."

"The power of his love for her broke the curse and she awoke…"

"Ah…the power of love. Such a delightfully vague though impossibly potent cure for everything."

"Oh, shut up. I suppose the last time you got hurt, all you had to do was ask the sun for help."

"At least solar energy is actually a real-life entity…"

"Wow, so few people actually love you that you now question its existence."

"You're being perfectly obtuse. Continue with the story."

"There isn't much to continue with," Cassidy retorted, standing up and walking to her vanity table. "Eros took Psyche back to Olympus with him. The gods were so impressed by Psyche's tenacity and courage that they decided to allow her to live there. They granted her the status of a goddess, immortality and a pair of wings…" She shrugged, taking up a hairbrush. "And they all lived happily ever after." She looked at the Archangel over her shoulder. "So, what did you think of that?"

"It was interesting…rather betraying of the human desire to be greater than what you are."

Cassidy shrugged. "That's a bit of a sweeping statement. Not all humans want to be gods. I don't want to be a god…and Psyche only wanted to be a goddess because she fell in love…"

"Would you not want to be a goddess if you fell in love with a god?"

"I can't really answer that until I fall in love, can I?" Cassidy all but snapped, starting on the most stubborn knots at the ends of her hair. There was something objectively odd about this situation. Only last night, she and Michael had been locked a vicious battle of wits and nerves and now, they were chatting like room-mates. She couldn't say that she liked the current scenario but she certainly preferred it. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, while we're throwing questions around…"

"Oh?"

"Your voice," Cassidy stated, turning to face the now-stone seraph. "You said that you took it from a human being…"

"I reanimated a human's consciousness by taking its brain-stem. I speak to you, using the shadow of another human's mind."

"Why did you pick that human? Like, was it random? Because they voice oddly suits you."
She smirked faintly, considering the morbid hilarity of the situation had Michael chosen to take a shrill young woman's voice.

"…I was not prepared to be prejudiced in my choice. I decided that it was a fitting time if not far later than the time I should be giving you verbal commands so promptness was the key…but one the humans that I happened to come upon possessed the name Michael…so I thought it fitting…"

Cassidy shivered. "You take their consciousness…so like, you must see life through their eyes. You must know everything about them…"

"Not at all. It is all a brief flash before it fades. All that remains is their most immediate memories…"

"And what was Michael doing right before you pulled out his brain-stem?"

"He was going to see a woman. Again, I thought it was fitting."

Out of habit, Cassidy shuffled around as she dragged the hair-brush across her scalp. She didn't particularly like being reminded of her time at Summer Bank. Her flashes of anxiety must have shown in her gait because the Weeping Archangel seemed to feel prompted to add:

"You needn't look so worrisome. I hardly pose a threat to you in this state." His tone was odd, slightly melancholy, slightly cynical. "You more than made that point last night."

"Why don't you just hunt?" she sat down on the bed, putting the hairbrush aside. "I know you need me to fix your skin where its cracking but surely you'd feel better if you were better fed."

"Are you condoning me hunting other humans?" At her next blink, the Angel was at the foot of the bed. "Are you telling me to murder? Are you comfortable with the idea of me growing stronger?"

"No, no and no," Cassidy responded, leaning back slightly, abandoning the hairbrush for a moment. "I'm just curious as to why the all-powerful, all-intelligent being hasn't done the obvious thing to gain the upper hand here…"

"I can't leave you."

Cassidy coughed slightly. "What?"

"I cannot leave you alone here. Suppose my sister returns and attacks? I thought this was the reason you were keeping me here? To protect you and the child?"

"Well…yeah." She fumbled with a hair-tie, plaiting the mop of wispy flax into a soft braid. "I just didn't think you were so dedicated…I'm a complete and utter burden to you." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm starting to get tired of being helpless though. I mean…there is literally no way I can fight off the Angels if they come after me…" She allowed her gaze to wander to the slightly-mildew-stained ceiling. "I don't like being totally dependent…I need to get stronger somehow…"

"Stand."

"Excuse me?"

"Stand, human. You wish to grow in strength- I will aid you in that as it benefits our cause." In the wake of the human woman's next blink, the Archangel had moved to fold his arms. "If you are more capable of defending yourself, we will be at an advantage if it comes to the point where we must engage my sister and her seekers in physical confrontation…"

Cassidy stared at Michael for a moment, filled with incredulity and suspicion. "What are you going to make me do?"

"Nothing overly strenuous. I am simply going to instruct you in a manner of sparring undertaken by cherubs…"

"Sparring?" Cassidy got to her feet, giving one of the marks on her neck a tentative and telling stroke. "I swear, if your claws end up anywhere near my skin-…"

"They will not, provided you do not attempt anything obstructive ," the Archangel sighed. "You have my word."

"Oh yes, because in the past, your word has been so valuable to me…"

"I never once lied to you about my intentions."

Cassidy sighed, coming to stand beside him. "I'm not getting into this debate again. What kind of "sparring" did you have in mind?" She eyed Michael's gargantuan arms, her blood close to the point of congealing when she recalled being held down, held against a wall and held up by her throat by those same arms.

"If done correctly this sparring will not involve any kind of bodily contact."
Sometimes it was as if he could read her mind.

"Oh yeah? So what do I have to do then?"

"You must close your eyes and listen," he told her. "I will stand at one side of the room. You will stand at the other. You will close your eyes and I will run for you. You must anticipate my movements and step out of the direction of my touch. You must wait until I am only a few steps from you and move before I can redirect myself."

"Right…and what exactly would that achieve?"

"If you can successfully shirk my advances, I will stumble. If I stumble, I will be vulnerable for a brief window of time. This brief window could afford you precious moments to turn around and to look upon me whilst my back is turned. I would not be able to see you but I would be trapped in a petrified state…"

Cassidy nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she considered this. "Mhmm. And if you catch me, you won't send me back in time or hit me or bite me?"

"No. This is training. As I said before, you have my word. Now take up your mark."

"You have to understand why I find it so difficult to trust you."

"I do but due to your stubbornness I have no way to rectify this besides giving you my word."

She let out an exhale, sweeping the length of her braid around to rest upon one of her bare shoulders. "Ok…" Cassidy walked to the side of the room closest to her bathroom door, turning around to see that Michael had taken the opposite post. "Now what?"

"Take a few moments to steady yourself. Steady your body and its functions. Then, close your eyes. I will not make my move immediately so listen carefully. It is vital that you do not move prematurely."

"Alright," she replied with a nod, lowering her arms to her sides, trying to take deep breaths despite her shuddering shoulders. She briefly allowed herself to raise her gaze to Michael's face and saw that his stare was locked firmly on her. Cassidy swallowed and gently allowed her eyelids to droop.

Only a few seconds later, the Archangel's hand was on her shoulder.
Cassidy flinched, her eyes snapping open.

"You did not move."
"I didn't hear anything."
"Listen carefully. Try to be less aware of your own body and more aware of what is around you."

They attempted the same exercise twice more.
The second time, Cassidy was far too jumpy and moved too early.
The third time, Cassidy had barely lifted her foot before Michael had a firm hold on her shoulder.

She groaned in frustration, waiting for him to remove his hand before she opened her eyes.
"This is hopeless…"

"It appears hopeless because you are guessing rather than sensing."

Cassidy stormed over to her dressing table, face flushed with frustration. "I'm guessing because this is impossible. You're an alien, Michael. You're a super fast, super strong, super everything alien and I can't hear you when you're moving…maybe as a human, I'm not physically capable of hearing you moving! I mean, I've never heard you move before! Maybe we weak, pathetic, helpless humans aren't physically capable of doing what the amazing, omnipotent, powerful Angels can!"

She hadn't intended to raise her voice.
She also hadn't intended to slap one of her eye-shadow brushes so hard against the table edge that it splintered.
Tossing the now-useless fragments aside, she let her head fall into her hands.

"Control your temper, Cassidy." She could hear him at her back.

"Control my temper? Look who's talking!" She was instantly silenced by the feeling of his hands on her shoulders.
Cassidy considered smacking him away but his hands felt pleasantly cool against her hot, tired skin. She felt the Lonely Assassin lift the braided hair from her shoulder.

"Your hair is covering your ears. It's probably obstructing your ability to hear," he told her softly, giving the plait a gentle tug. "May I?"

"Yeah, whatever…"
She raised her eyebrows when she felt him unravel her hair and loop it behind her ears before securing it in what felt like a low bun. "Wow, Michael. I didn't know you were a hairdresser…"
She smiled slightly, despite herself.

"It's hardly a complex task. I've watched you do it countless times," he retorted, though he sounded a little humoured than usual. He ran a finger down the side of her cheek, tracing the area where he had marked her before. "And you should not be so obtuse. You are stronger than you seem to know…"

Cassidy's eyes opened in surprise, the human woman giving a bark of laughter as she pressed her face against the Archangel's stone touch. "Stronger than I know, huh? That's new. Definitely a nice change from pathetic, stubborn, emotional, harlotesque little human-mouse-bird…"

She lowered her eyes and heard Michael's human voice laugh, lightly tugging on the knot of hair that he had just tied. "Such a sharp tongue. It is your stubbornness that makes you a strong adversary…" He released her from his hold. "Boorish as they are regarded, earth humans are often remarked upon for their strength and their persistence."

"Oh? And you think I'm strong? Am I good representative of Earthling humans?" She couldn't help but very slightly mock his voice.

"I know that you are strong. You've survived more than most humans could ever boast." He lowered his lips to her ear. "And of course you are. Why else do you think I chose you?"

"My fantastically good looks?" she suggested, slowly lifting her head and slumping her shoulders and evading his touch. "…will we try again then?"

"First, I want you to do something," he told her, placing one hand over her eyes. "I want you to listen to your own breathing, to your own heartbeat. I want you to try and to ignore everything going on inside your body and concentrate solely on the world that surrounds you." He placed a second hand upon her shoulder. "You are wrong, Cassidy. You have heard me move before. You have heard me move so many times before, you just haven't been aware of it because you are dependent upon your eyes. You know this house and you know every sound within it. Mark those sounds, find the familiar anomaly. That anomaly will be me." He released her. "Now go to the other side of the room…"

She moved to stand only to have him stop her.
"…without opening your eyes."

"What?"

"Use it as an opportunity to take in the sounds around you. Learn your environment without the need of visual aid."

Cassidy rolled her eyes but shut them, standing up on shaky legs and pushing back her seat. "Ok, but if I fall or stub my toe or something…it's on your head…"

She began a rather unsteady walk across the room, her bare feet finding the knots in the floorboards and the soft, woollen fibres of the rug in front of the bed.
As she walked, she resolved to prove herself.

Cassidy took a sliver of a moment to consider the utter hilarity of the situation. She had previously been intent on training her eyes not to blink in his presence and now she was willingly keeping herself blind for his benefit.

No, not for his benefit. It was for hers.

"You're doing this for yourself," she told herself. "He's teaching you a skill and you're learning it to improve your chances of survival…"
As she walked, she tried to take the advice of the Archangel.

Adopting one of her work mantras- one of the mind-sets that she usually drifted in and out of while she was working on artefacts- Cassidy allowed her twitching eyelids to relax over her eyeballs.
"Listen to what's going on inside your body and then block it out. Like Michael said," she instructed herself mentally, slowing her gait as she traversed the rug.

She became aware of the faint rush of her breathing, the dull thudding percussion of her heartbeat and the occasional gurgle of her own swallowing. When she reached the end of the rug, she knew that there were only a few steps left between her and the wall, she reached out to anticipate its coming and sure enough, her fingertips soon met with the cold stone of the wall.

"Come on, Cassidy," she thought. "You're an archaeologist. You're a sticker for details."

She took a moment to bring herself as close to the wall as she could manage, trying to shut out the distracting sounds of her own body. Her palm pressed against the painted wall, Cassidy listened carefully to the sounds around her. She recognised the sounds of the floorboards, adjusting beneath the weight of her feet and the distant, clinking rattle of the pipes as the heating shut off. She could hear the creak of the attic's beams above her head and the thrum of the boiler on the landing.
Between small intervals, a stray, waif-like branch would brush against the window pane outside, scratching at the glass.

As she turned, she tried to learn to accept all of these things.
She allowed them to enter her ears and to interweave in mind like polyphonic melodies, combining to become part of a strange, rhythmic symphony and finally to fade like white noise- into the background.

Then she knew she had to listen for the sound that stood out.
A sound that she had heard before but one that interrupted the music that she had created.
The familiar anomaly.

Cassidy turned on the spot, using the wall to guide herself until she was fully facing the opposite side of the room. Once she had turned completely, she knew that Michael would be preparing to move and so, she braced herself.

"And now, I will take my turn once more," Michael heralded.

His voice was only a brief interruption to her symphony and she heard it above the rest.
She blotted out the orchestral cacophony of household sounds, waiting for something new to reach her ears once more.

Then she heard it.
It was a very faint, odd, swishing noise.
The sound of something gossamer grazing a flat surface, like cloth being pulled over a loom.

And she had heard it before.
Most definitely.
A cold bolt of electricity ran up her spine.

Seconds before having a bottle of champagne crudely forced to her lips, she had heard it.
Seconds before turning around in the hotel lobby to see six Angels at her back, she had heard it.
Seconds before looking up from the where she lay on the ground to see her favourite statue had moved above her, she had heard it.
Seconds before waking up, having fallen asleep at her work desk in the Museum, only to dream that she had seen Michael in her doorway, she had heard it.

No sooner had Cassidy heard the noise, her legs had already unconsciously reacted, stepping to the side.

She felt the barest graze of a cold touch brush against her forearm and she let out a soft laugh, realising that he hadn't managed to grab her this time.
Before she could finish her celebration of triumph, Michael's arm suddenly shot out and grabbed her around the waist, scooping her up.

"Ah! What are you doing?! Put me down!?" she shrieked, opening her eyes and trapping him in stone. "Ow, ow, ow!" Being held by a being of flesh rather than a being made of solid rock was a lot less painful. Cassidy shut her eyes once more. "Put me down now!"

A laughing Michael lowered her to her feet. "Angels always do the unexpected. You should know that by now. You also should have taken the opportunity to lock me in stone when you had the brief chance to do so."

"Ok, ok," Cassidy muttered, waving a hand and looking up at him. "Let's play once more…"

"Enjoying this, are we?"

"I think I'm getting better at this…"

"Remember that I am already at reduced levels of energy and strength."

"But I am getting better at this. Aren't I?"

"…yes. You are."

It was on their eighth round when Cassidy made the decision to wait exactly one second after hearing the odd swishing noise before moving.
However, instead of stepping to the side, she ducked down and opened her eyes immediately.

She was instantly greeted by the sight of the lower folds of Michael's robes.
She looked up to see the Weeping Archangel leaning over her head, his hand pressed against the wall and his face marred by a kind of feral frustration.

Now Cassidy could laugh without fear of interruption, slipping around the Archangel's body and moving to stand at his back. "Ha! Yes! I win! I did it. I win."

"Cheeky. That was not something that I instructed you to do."

"I know. I did something unexpected." Standing at Michael's back, Cassidy smiled widely, blinking and allowing him to turn to face her too.

"You're learning well," he told her.

"I'm a fast learner," she responded with a shrug, feeling warmth spread across her cheeks. "I thought we established that before."

There was an intense weighted silence between them.
Cassidy ran her hands along her arms, feeling the goosebumps that were starting to form there and realising for the first time that she was starting to get cold. Her heart-rate started to pick up and she could tell that he could sense it.

"You should sleep," the Archangel finally said. "You need to take rest."

"Yeah….yeah, you're right," Cassidy managed to murmur, walking to her bedside, lifting the blanket and slipping in. "Thanks by the way…for keeping your promise…I'll keep mine. When I get back from work tomorrow, I'll repair you…"

"I offer my gratitude."

"Right. Good night, then."

She lay back against the pillows, reaching across to her bedside to turn off the lamp only to find the bulb dimming to darkness before her fingers could reach the switch.

"Good night," the Angel returned.

Cassidy had only just closed her eyes in the darkness when she heard the faintest of phantom-like sound and something cold and gossamer brushed against her cheek.
Then, there was the telling rattle of the door closing.

And he was gone.

Her usual sense of guilt had been replaced by a terrible kind of disappointment.

She told herself it was because had forgotten to ask him about where he had gotten the blindfolds.

Cassidy had forgotten how quiet the Museum could be after-hours.
Well, quiet providing that you didn't have any company with you in the Preparation Room.

"I've written my own book!" Abbie delightedly proclaimed, thrusting a bundle of sellotaped papers into Cassidy's hands. "Like the French lady who wrote Beauty and the Beast or Rolo Dahl. I made this story especially for you so I hope you like it!"

"I'm sure I'll love it," Cassidy said with a smile, lifting the front cover only to be stopped by Abigail's little hands on her wrist.

"Don't read it now," the little girl giggled bashfully. "Read it when you get home. Some other time."

"Alright, I'll do just that," the young woman agreed, carefully putting the precious bundle into her leather case.

"Need a hand?"

Leon strode into the preparation room, drainpipe pants pressed to perfection and white-smile more dazzling than ever. He cocked an eyebrow, patting Abbie's head as she snuggled into his side. "After putting up with this little chancer for three whole days, the least I can do for you is to help you bring all of your…things to the car…"

Leon's second eyebrow joined his first as he looked at the sheer number of plaster-bags, tool-kits, high-vis lights and mixing basins that surrounded the archaeologist's legs.

"Ah, well like I said," Cassidy said, lifting a bag of plaster on to her arm. "Abbie's never any trouble and I think I'll be fine with all of this…"

"Ed's really layering on the homework, isn't he?" Leon commented, a little incredulous as he gestured for Abbie to head out in the corridor. "I mean, I thought you two were friends. You'd think that when you've got a mate in the main office, you'd be trotting down easy street…"

Cassidy stumbled over one of her tool-kits. "I don't mind really. Not at all. I really love my work so overtime doesn't bother me as much as you'd think…"

Leon stooped to pick up the offending tool-kit. "Yeah, but it's the run-up to Christmas. Surely, Ed should start cutting you some slack. You're already like the most hard-working employee here and after all the shit you've had to put up with for the last few months, with the statue theft and everything…" His voice trailed off and he coughed awkwardly. "I just think you deserve a break."

"I appreciate your concern," Cassidy said, smiling up at him with ease- something she mightn't have been able to do just over two months ago. "But I'm alright. I'm better off keeping busy." She took the tool-kit from him. "Speaking of breaks, did you and Shauna enjoy yours?"

"Uh…yeah. The weather was awful but the shopping was great," Leon chuckled, shrugging his padded shoulders. "Then again, I don't think anyone goes to Cardiff in November for the sunshine."

"No, I guess not," she nodded with a grin. "Listen, I'd better head off. I've got a…" Cassidy paused for a moment, trying to control her facial expression. "I've got a bit of a house guest who needs a lot of catering to. I don't want to keep them waiting."

"Oh, I see. That's cool," he replied, holding the door open for her. "I'll see you tomorrow so."

It was only when she was halfway across the reception area, about to reach the door when he called out to her.

"Hey…Cassidy?"

She turned around. "Yeah?"

The tour guide opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but then closed it again, simply smiling. "Uh…nothing. Just let me know if you need a hand."

Cassidy nodded, assuring him that she would and heading straight out to the employee car-park. She frowned a little as she put the key into the ignition, starting to wonder if she had missed something important just there.

"All this time trying to understand the social cues of bloody aliens," Cassidy muttered to herself, adjusting her rear-view mirror. "Maybe I'm slowly losing my understanding of other humans…"

"Don't move. I mean it."

The hot plaster had only partially hardened and Cassidy was not going to re-set it for a third time simply because Michael had been feeling fidgety.

"I will not."
"You said that last time."
"And I only moved because you required help lifting one of those bags."
"I didn't need your help."
"Oh do not be ignorant. Your attempts were becoming increasingly embarrassing to watch."
"I would have gotten it eventually. I didn't ask for you to come over and take it from me."
"You would not have asked and three hours later, I would still be standing here- untreated."
"I would not have asked because it wouldn't have taken me three hours to lift the damn bag."
"Stubborn human."
"Stupid Angel."

Before one of their usual, riveting back-and-forths could take its course, the phone rang in the hallway. Cassidy sighed, wiping her hands on her work apron.

"That'll be Christine calling back. Stay where you are, alright?"

But when Cassidy picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver, all she heard was the clicking dial-tone of the caller hanging up.

She frowned, looking at the phone-base for a moment, checking for faults in the cord before shaking her head and heading back into the sitting room.

"So then…after you've dried, I was hoping you could tell me a little more about your sister and her current whereabouts. I mean, is she still in Nottingham or is it more likely that she's in London or-?"

Cassidy was cut off by the sound the doorbell ringing.

She grunted, deciding that she was having one of those days when the world didn't want her to work or to progress or to do much of anything.
"You stay here. You know the drill, don't move."

"Unless I feel that we are being threatened…"

"There's no need to feel threatened," Cassidy exhaled, massaging the bridge of her nose. "That's either going to be my Aunt Christine wanting to check in on me or Mrs Martin from down the lane looking for a cup of flour…besides, you said that you could sense when other Angels are coming."

"Not every threat to our situation is going to come from another Angel…"

Cassidy was about to reply when the doorbell rang for a second time.
She groaned and walked into the hallway. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

She closed the sitting room door and walked out to the front door. "Coming, coming, coming…"

After a small tussle with the front door keys, Cassidy unlocked the door and pulled it open.

And when she did, her mouth fell slack.

"Cassidy," the man on the doorstep said, nodding at her and giving her the same odd half-smile that she could recall from her childhood. "Afternoon."

He had always been a small man- slightly portly, scrubbing brush hair with ruddy cheeks.
He had gotten fatter and in Cassidy's mind he had always worn the same baggy tracksuit, so seeing him in a shirt and blue, denim jeans was just as much of a shock to her system as seeing him on the front porch was.

Daniel Tiernan.

Daniel Tiernan.

Her father.

She felt as if she had just been doused by a bucket of ice-cold water, her hand automatically coming to grip the side of the doorframe.

The man snorted. "Heh, quiet as always, Cass, eh? Not even going to say hello? Not even to your old dad?"

"Uh…h-hello…"

She had last seen him out the back of the window of her mother's Toyota as they pulled out of the driveway of their old house. He had been screaming curses at her mother, red-faced and spitting.
Like a dragon.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in, then?"

Cassidy nodded dumbly, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come past.
She watched as he walked into the landing, whistling as he looked around.

"Nice place you've got here. Old, though. Typical Maria."

He made a motion to grab the handle of the sitting room door and Cassidy stopped him abruptly. "Ah, not there. I've been doing some…painting…in there." She forced herself to smile. "Uh, the kitchen's just down there though. If you want to sit down…or something…"

Without a word, her father turned around and walked down the hall, affording Cassidy the time to prise the living room door open a fraction.
She jumped slightly. Michael was only inches from the door.

"Who is that?" he asked with an extremely threatening growl.

"Oh, drop that tone," Cassidy hissed. "That's my father."

"Your father? I thought you detested your father."

"Yes…well, yes …but he's obviously come back because he heard about mum, I can't just turn him away…"

"Of course you can just turn him away. He did not want anything to do with you."

"He needs to grieve too," Cassidy insisted, annoyed. "Maybe he's come to his senses. Maybe he's had some time to think. You know, unlike your lot, people aren't afraid of change…in fact people have a great capacity for change…" She stood up straight. "Now just stay here while I talk. I won't be long, I'm not in danger…and for God's sake, stop moving around!"

The walk back to the kitchen felt like the longest walk that she had ever taken.
After twelve years of never attempting to make any contact with her or her mother whatsoever, her father was now sitting at her kitchen table.

Cassidy's mouth was quite dry as she made tea for the two of them and she found herself almost completely incapable of speaking. She placed a porcelain mug in front of her father, her heart spiking in pace when he nodded a voiceless "thanks" in her direction.

As she sat down opposite him, tiny flashes of memories flitted in front of mind's eye like dancers in a theatre, bustling in the wings. Barely visible but most certainly there, most certainly important and waiting to make an appearance.
She saw birthdays, Sunday dinners, Christmases too…

"You look fit to shit yourself," Daniel said aloud with a guffaw, smiling and revealing one badly chipped tooth. "No need to be so anxious, pet. Christ, you still curl up like a kid. How old are you now, twenty-one? Twenty…?"

"Twenty-three," Cassidy corrected him. "Uh…sorry, this is just weird… I mean, I expected to see you at some point, I just didn't think-…" She paused, looking up from her own mug as something new occurred to her. "Were you at the funeral? I…I didn't see you there…"

Now, a new corps de ballet of dancers replaced the memories in Cassidy's mind.
Memories were quickly replaced by fantasies.
Fantasies that had been born, had grown and had festered during Cassidy's adolescence.

Fantasies of all the things she had ever wanted to tell her father.
The things she wanted to shout at him.
All about how he had hurt her mother, had hurt her…how he meant nothing to her and could do nothing to her and was nothing to her.

And surprisingly, none of these things seemed to be at all possible to say at that point in time.

"Oh, I was there," he said, in a tone that was a lot more jovial than seemed appropriate. "I just kept my distance. If your Auntie fucking Chrissy saw me she would have torn my head off…"

"Ah," was all Cassidy could manage, still trying to properly wrap her head around the situation as she stole glances at the man- the ghost from her past- who sat across from her.

He seemed to be surveying her too, his bristly eyebrows knitting.
"Holy fuck, you look just like Maria. Same bloody sad look in your eyes all the time. Where the hell am I in you? I mean, you can understand why I wanted a bloody paternity test. When I asked her though, you'd 've sworn I just told her that I'd booked us a spot on the Jeremy fucking Kyle Show. All I wanted was a bit've security and she's harping on about me humiliating her and refusing to trust her…"

He sighed, squinting at Cassidy's uneasy expression and rolling his eyes.
"And I can tell that you haven't changed a bit, have you? Still wallowing and moping like a fed-up toddler? Always looking like someone nicked your iced-lolly if someone says the slightest thing to you. Even if they're just being fucking honest!"

Cassidy pressed her lips together. "I'm…I'm sorry…if I seem a little melancholy. This is just…really bizarre for me. I mean…have you known where Mum and I were living all this time?"

"'Course I did. Your mummy made it pretty bloody clear that she didn't want me anywhere near either of you though…"

There was evident bitterness in his voice and Cassidy sat back, trying her best to understand it all. There was still a voice in the back of her mind, telling her to kick up a fuss, to go berserk, to tell him where to put all of his opinions about her mother…but try as she might, she couldn't go along with any of what the voice wanted her to do or say.

It had been very brave of him to coming looking for her after all this time and he had lost the woman he'd been with for fourteen years, just as she'd lost her mother.

After taking a moment to consider how she was going to vocalise all of this, Cassidy took a breath and said gently: "Well, it was very good of you to come and visit." She smiled at the thought of it. "Even after everything, I suppose now is as good as any time. I mean, better late than never, right?"

"You what?" Daniel Tiernan snorted into his mug, laughing slightly. "Better late than-? What are you on about, love? You think I've hauled my arse out to the sticks just to try to be your daddy again?" He laughed louder. "That's cute, Cassidy. Really cute. Thought I fucking made myself clear a long time ago that having you was never part of the plan and that 'aving a daughter weren't something I ever wanted."

Cassidy gave a long, slow blink, feeling as if she'd just been slapped across the face.
He really hadn't changed a bit.
A thousand recollections of being systematically ignored, slapped, shouted at and locked into and out of rooms by the man who sat at the other end of the table suddenly surged to the forefront of her mind.

"Maybe not," she said finally, in a voice that was so much quieter than she would have liked. "But…my mum…Maria…she's dead. If you're not here t-to…I mean I thought you'd want to…"

"Oh, I'm offering all of my sympathies, pet, really I am," Daniel went on, slurring his words slightly. "And I'll admit…I was upset when she kicked the bucket. Really, I was. But she's been on a fucking death sentence for years. I'll admit that was one of the few reliefs when she left- not being with someone constantly banging on death's door." He rubbed his forehead, still grinning with a cartoonish maliciousness that Cassidy had never seen on a real human being before. "And for a while, I thought I loved her…maybe I did…but then you had to go and ruin it all, didn't you? She was all for the abortion…and then for the adoption…but then that damned day in the delivery room, didn't she see you and decide no, let's use a fucking baby to fix our relationship!"

If she had been ignoring the alcohol on his breath, she could certainly smell it now.
And she felt like a coward because her voice was starting to wobble when she spoke, despite the gritted-teeth rage that she spoke with.

"So…what…w-what do y-you want?"

"Good you should ask that at long last," he said cheerfully, sifting through the bag he had brought as if the last few lines of their conversation had never happened. "Oh come on now, Cassidy. Don't get all blubbery on me. Still the little crybaby you always were…try to be a fucking adult about this." He dropped a few stacks of paper on the table.

"What's…," Cassidy swallowed, trying to compose herself despite the fact that her insides felt as though they were on fire. "What's all th-this about then?"
Under the table, one of her fists was clenched, her knuckles aching as her nails sank into the soft flesh of her palm.

"Well then," the man said with a chuckle, pushing the paper in front of her. "I'm sure you're more than aware that our dear departed Maria left all of her worldly possessions to you and that bitch of a sister of hers, yeah? Well, I did a little digging as soon as she passed and I found something interesting…when she bought this house with her own nagging, fucking mother's inheritance which had been paid into a joint account between myself and her. Now, even though she cut me out as soon as she moved in here, the bank still recognises me as the original second account-holder when the house was bought..."

"So…y-you…"
Cassidy's eyes darted down over the document, trying desperately to confirm that what he was telling her was true.

"So essentially, pet, the banks now recognise me as the owner of this house and I'd like to take what's rightfully mine…" He rolled a plastic pen across the table to her. "So just sign it over right now and we won't have to get the courts involved."

Cassidy sank backwards in her seat, her fingers tracing the pen.
She dropped her head, shaking it.
It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be true.

"Y-You just came here…you just came here because you want to take the house…"
She sniffed, wiping at her blurring vision with the back of her sleeve, her shoulders trembling.

"Oh no, pet. I came here because I intend on taking the house. Whether forcefully or gently. You choose."

"You're a monster," she spat spitefully, looking up at him with a hateful glower.

"Didn't bother me when your mother said it before she left," Daniel smirked, sitting back in his chair. "Doesn't bother me to hear you say it now." He chuckled wheezily. "Though Maria was a little more fire-and-brimstone about the whole thing…not like you…same soft, little Cassidy…"

The young woman craned her head, looking into her lap.
She felt as if the floor had opened up beneath her and now she was falling.
Maybe she was the same, soft, little Cassidy whom he had known for so long. She was still the helpless, weak, pathetic, dependant…

No.

It was then that Cassidy saw the mark.
On her left wrist was one of the healing bruises that Michael had left on her wrist during her time in Summer Bank. The faint, purplish mark was a reminder.
It was a reminder that she was a survivor.

She was strong.

And her father didn't know.
A slow grin spread across her face.
He had no idea of anything.
He hadn't the faintest idea of why he should be terrified right now.

Suddenly, she wasn't so afraid anymore.

By the time she looked up, she was smiling widely.
Her heart wasn't soft and vulnerable any more.
It was hard.
Cold.

"What're you so delighted about?" her father asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Nothing, nothing," Cassidy replied smoothly, standing up. "It's just nice to get closure after all these years. This form says that you need the documentation to prove ownership of the house. It's all in a drawer in the living room…shall we?"

She beckoned for him to follow her as she walked.
"So, no family elsewhere?"

It felt like a practical question to ask.

"Are you fucking bonkers? I think and your mum put me off that for life…and look, if you want closure or some shit, you can call yourself "disowned" or something..."
"Ah…I'm sorry to hear that."

Her father still regarded her with an air of suspicion as she opened the door of the living room but didn't ask any questions, going quietly, as she waved him inside.

Sure enough, Michael was standing in the centre of the room, his eyes locked on the doorway and a snarl frozen on to his face.

Daniel opened his mouth to say something and Cassidy spoke over him, loudly and clearly.

"Michael? This is my father. I was wrong. He's a heartless man who hurt my mother and made my life miserable. He's repulsive and he always will be." The glacial tone of her own voice frightened her. "Fancy a snack? Do what you want with him, as long as there's no major mess…"

Cassidy looked to her father, her eyes narrowing spitefully. "Daddy, this is Michael. Consider yourself disowned."

She slammed the door shut at her father's back and locked it.

At first, she heard her father at her.
Then there was a pause and a murmur of confusion.
Then, shouts of panic.
Then, screams.
Screams.

Screams.

Cassidy stepped back until her back pressed against the wall on the other side of the corridor. She stared at the lock on the sitting room door until the screams gave way to complete and total silence.
She opened the door once more, only to see a room that was entirely empty aside from the presence of a colossal statue carved into the form of a very triumphant looking Angel.

Traversing the room with her head lowered, Cassidy sat down upon the sofa.

"…does this make me a murderer?" she asked, her eyes almost staring straight through the floor.

"I sent your father back to the past and feasted upon his years," the Archangel informed her. "He is still alive. He is no longer with us but he is still alive. In technical terms."

"Is it wrong …that I don't care…that he's no longer with us?"

"Of course not. Particularly when you consider what I plan to do to my father, without care…"

Her eyes were still distant, her body and mind splintered and independent of each other. "And what do you plan to do to him?"

"Well, he will definitely not be alive by any technicality."

Cassidy suddenly threw her head down into her hands, her shoulders shuddering as an avalanche of emotion crushed her, ripping through her and smouldering in her stomach.
She didn't cry tears but she body wretched as though she was sobbing.

The last thing that she expected to feel was a hand on her lower back, gently running up to her shoulders and stroking the line of her neck.
She might have shrugged him away if it wasn't for what the Archangel said to accompany this gesture.

"I know that…I know that you do not wish to speak any more about the matter of your parents but I accept this…and…" He paused as if he was struggling to remember something- a notion that Cassidy immediately marked as odd. "And if you ever desire to speak of it and simply wish for me to listen without giving input…" He growled faintly, almost a little exasperated. "…I would be willing to…to…to be there…for you, should you need it…because I value you."

Cassidy sat up straight as his hand left her back, looking at up him as confusion replaced the rapid onset of grief. "…uh…thanks, I appreciate that."

As she rose to shut the curtains, Michael briefly reviewed his opinion of little Abigail Drake.
Perhaps the child was indeed capable of giving practical advice and was possibly a more valuable asset than simply a bargaining chip.
Perhaps.

Unknown to Michael and Cassidy however, Abigail had already been noticed as such by an individual of a different nature.

"W-Who are you?"

"Do not be afraid, Abigail Drake. I am not going to hurt you…"

"But…y-you…you're one of them. One of the bad Angels."

"I am not a bad Angel, Abigail. I am a very good Angel. It is that dreadful creature who is keeping your friend Cassidy Albright prisoner…he is the bad Angel."

"But Michael wouldn't hurt Cassy. He told me that he wouldn't."

"Michael has been telling a lot of lies, Abigail. He's going to keep hurting Cassidy until we stop him."

"Oh no! How do we stop him?"

"We need to find the man with the blue box, Abigail. Do you know where he is? I think you do."

"He…he gave me a special piece of paper that I could use to get the blue box to appear…"

"Oh? And you could make it appear anywhere? At any time?"

"Y-Yeah, that's what he said but I don't think I sh-should-…"

"Don't you want to help your friend, Abigail? If you don't help her soon, she will die."

"No! No! I don't want Cassy to die!"

"In that case, Abigail Drake," Ariel purred. "I need you to do exactly as I say."

The calm before the storm, ladies and gentlemen.
The calm before the storm.