To be completely honest, I thought that "someday" wasn't actually a real word my entire life up until writing this chapter. I always thought you needed a space between the two.

Awkward.

MPOV

The trip to Fang's manor was a bit longer than I had anticipated. One of the perks about living in a small town was that everything as nice and in reach. Fang's house, however, was built on the very outskirts of town, near the end of the forest. By the time we were clomping up the cobblestone pathway, chapping hands shoved deep in our pockets, the moon was a glowing bright contrast against the midnight sky. Vaguely, I considered calling Ella to make positive she was fairing alright, but at the last second, I decided against it. She was only a few months younger than me, after all; she could handle herself.

Swinging the door open wide, Fang waved me inside the brightly-lit home. The moment I shuffled over the threshold, I was embraced in a plethora of warm, delicious smells. When the scent of vanilla wafted up to meet me, I nearly moaned. Despite the lack of furniture in the home, there was a hefty amount of noise coming from the kitchen. If I shut my eyes, I could almost believe that I was a little kid again, tramping inside from playing in the snow, my mother scolding me for getting the floors all wet while the sauce bubbled over on the stove behind her.

A spark ignited on my cheek, causing my lids to flutter open. Fang was standing in front of me, a pleasant look dancing in his eyes.

"Ready?" he asked, holding out his olive-toned hand.

Taking his hand in a strong, firm grip, my lips stretched into a broad smile. "Lead the way."

Without further ado, Fang brought me through the barren living room into the wide-open kitchen. Standing in the center of what had to be the only furnished room in the house was a tall, olive-toned woman with dark raven hair tumbling in voluptuous curls over her shoulders. She wielded a knife confidently in her right hand as she chopped vigorously at the various vegetables scattered about the island's granite countertop.

"Fang, dear, you've got to try and come home sooner. It's nearly eight-thirty!" Her voice was like warm vanilla sugar, comforting in a way that I had recently forgotten.

Amusement twinkled within the rich tones of Fang's opaque eyes. "Yes, mother."

She whirled around to rinse her knife in the stainless steel sink, a sigh dancing on her tongue. "I hope stir-fry is okay for dinner; it was all I could come up with. Grocery shopping tomorrow, I suppose. Oh!" Wiping the dripping knife on a dishcloth draped over her shoulder, she began to turn around. "I nearly forgot to ask; how is—"

As Fang's mother completed her turn ad tilted her face up to meet us, her sentence was suddenly cut off. Awe flooded into her features and the knife slipped from her usually confident grasp to clatter noisily on the countertop. "—Max," she finished.

Not another word was spoken before she was rushing at me and gathering me into a bear-hug. I tentatively squeezed her back, the heavenly scent of fresh-baked goods wafting up to meet me. My eyes shut, a sigh escaping my lips, and I reveled in the moment. It was one I was going to make absolutely sure that I wouldn't forget: the day I met Fang's mother.

The two of us broke away at the same time, both of us beaming. "It's so great to finally meet you!" she gushed. "Fang would always keep you to himself." A tinkling laugh.

I grinned, the new endless sea of memories I had resurfacing.

"Metatron, let me meet your mother. You praise her so highly."

He twisted a lock of my pale blond hair around his finger absently, blue eyes drunk with all that was me. "Someday, my love. Someday."

"Yes, that does sound familiar," I murmured, amused.

"Excuse me for not wanting to share such a beautiful treasure." Fang wound an arm around my waist and gently drew me into him, his words a warm tease at my ear.

My cheeks were scalding hot as I jabbed an elbow into his side. I laid my head lightly against his shoulder, the tremors of his rumbling laughter curling up to tickle me. Fang's mother clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and bustled back over to the sizzling pan on the stove with a wooden spoon wielded tightly in her grasp.

"You two are just too cute," she commented. If it was possible to get redder, I would have. "Fang, set the table, please. I'll be finished in five minutes."

"Sure thing." Taking a firm grasp of my hand, Fang lightly tugged me off towards the direction of a grandiose high-arched entryway. The moment we passed under the elegant architecture, I was softly wrapped up inside a room that had seen too many memories to count. Pictures as old as all my lives added together hung precariously on warm chocolate paint, the glorious scenes of angels both weeping and praising in the magnificent gardens seeming to greet me with loving, feather-light hands. Each splatter of pain on the looming walls murmured with past conversations held just within the confines of this room; perhaps even on the cherry oak, meticulously carved table that consumed most of the plush, pillow-like carpet beneath my sock-clad feet. In this room, shadows seemed nonexistent, the intricate chandelier swinging lightly from the domed ceiling burning through all the darkness and radiating nothing but soft grins and warbling laughter.

I tilted my head up to face Fang, my eyes filled to the very brim with wonder. The slight curve of his mouth told me he had been expecting such a reaction, but I couldn't help it. I had to know what was lying beneath the history of this room.

"What is it?" I asked, voice hardly above a whisper.

He didn't respond at first, merely released his hold on my hand and sauntered over to a timelessly elegant china cabinet set into one of the corners of the room. Reaching to the top of it, his fingers sought a key that he promptly used to unlock the cabinet's mysteries. Began carefully plucking dishes from within.

My eyes roamed hungrily about, soaking in as much of the room as they could with my newly enhanced vision. The dust motes twirling around to a song beautifully unheard; the elegant, precisely woven threads of the high-backed chairs' cushions. "I mean, what is this feeling I have?"

There was a pulse in the web as I felt Fang probe around to sense what exactly that feeling was. It was more difficult for him to access my mind now, he explained to me in the car. Now that my memories were back, I unconsciously threw up walls as to not let Fang wiggle his way in whenever he pleased. I peeled my guard back with ease now, allowing the gentle wisp of his own mind drift into my own.

"Mmm," Fang murmured. The porcelain plates kissed the smooth wood of the table. "That feeling. Yes, I get that same sense every time I step foot in here."

"But why?"

He placed the last dish down in its proper spot and stroked the wood of the table adoringly. "I asked my mother once and she told me it all went back to this table. I faintly remember my mother spending a large amount of money during the seventeenth century to have it made for her. In the legend she tells me, she had a witch enchant the table." The sentence died off with the shrug of one of his broad shoulders.

My shoulders, however, tensed up all over. "Witch?"

Fang arched an eyebrow at me. "You didn't think we were the only mythical creatures that exist on earth, did you?"

I gaped at him, mind racing. Not once in all my memories did I recall anything about witches. My tongue scrambled to form words, but nothing quite came out. Rumbling out a chuckle, Fang came up behind me and began massaging the kinks out of my shoulders. With each spark that sprouted from his fingers, more tension melted away into the warmth radiating off of him. A flush spread through me at his proximity, both comforting and enthralling at the same time.

"I'm just kidding, my Gabrielle. My mother may believe in witches, but I truly don't. It is my thought that there are just some people who have been blessed with the grace of Our Lady and use society's conception to their advantage."

My head nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Is that what your mother is? Someone blessed by Our Lady? I don't recall you ever explaining that to me."

"I never really found it necessary to tell you, but yes, my mother has been blessed by Our Lady. She doesn't have any higher….powers, per se; just the power of knowing. She comes back to Earth with us every time, understanding completely what her job is."

"What's her job?"

"To make positive that I grow up being aware of who I am and what I have to do—which would be to find you," he explained.

"Taking care of my son isn't my only duty," interjected Fang's mother. She came bustling in with three dishes balanced on her arms. I immediately sprang forward to help her arrange them on the table as she continued to speak. "I keep Our Lady informed and in reach, though we do not speak often."

"Why not?" My brows furrowed slightly.

"It's an extremely long ritual that takes almost all energy out of me."

I met eyes with Fang across the room and suddenly the guilt was almost palpable between us. But as Fang shed his walls away, I sensed what he was thinking: It's the only way.

"I actually wanted to speak to you—" Fang began, taking a step forward. His mother waved in a manner that cinched his sentence shut.

"Talk later. Let's eat first. I want some wine in me first if we are to discuss matters of importance."

I tried to stifle my grin, but failed miserably. Fang rolled his eyes dramatically beside me, heaving a generous sigh. A shock jolted up my arm as he tapped the back of my hand twice; it was a habit we picked up centuries ago that told the other to be attentive. In this case, however, all he wanted was for me to sit in the chair he was patiently pulling out of me. It was no question for me to dutifully comply with his wordless gesture, the high back of the chair curving and molding itself into the arch of my back. After Fang was sure I was comfortably situated at the table, he rounded his mother and took his own seat.

The food was passed out without haste, mindless chatter being exchanged between the three of us about our "regular" lives; you know, outside of being Archangels. Often I'd catch myself staring at one of the new caramel strands that glinted smoothly against the warm glow of the chandelier. It was so strange, this new me, that I couldn't even begin to imagine ever getting used to seeing it, let along living in it. Everything seemed simpler in this body, an undercurrent of power and strength humming beneath my skin. Even just lifting a forkful of pasta felt strange—off balance almost. The thought made my nose crinkle as Fang's mother set a slice of tiramisu pie in front of me, a new clean fork sticking straight up inside the chocolate delicacy.

"Alright," she sighed, settling back into the embrace of her chair. Her fork took a small piece of dessert to her mouth, and she savored it for a minute before continuing. "What is it that you two needed to tell me?"

Nerves running on hyper-wire, I plucked a chocolate shaving from the surface of my pie and allowed for it to melt on my tongue, dancing across my taste buds. Fang sipped lightly on what appeared to be coffee, the crease on his forehead telling me he was trying his hardest to figure out how to set his words. I averted my eyes away from his chiseled face to instead concentrate on my plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The air in the room went stale.

"Mother, we have a huge favor to ask of you."

"Yes?" She was wary, defenses being throw up. I could already tell she was an intelligent woman.

"We need you to perform the ritual for us."

I felt her bristle through the air. "Hold your tongue, Metatron, carusangelus. The task you plead is larger than what I'm willing to accept."

My wide brown eyes flickered up to Fang's tight-lipped gaze and I probed a comforting touch to the outer edges of the web; a soft question, asking for permission. He gave a subtle nod back, so I trekked forward before every ounce of my courage slipped away.

"Mrs. Xavier—"

"Sarah," she interrupted gently, though the muscles in her face were strained. "My true name, Gabrielle."

I nodded, a small smile softening my features. "Sarah, we would never expect you to comply with our request unless it was of dire importance. Unfortunately, we have found ourselves in a tourniquet that only Our Lady will be able to get us out of. It is imperative we speak with her."

Sarah emitted a tiny moan. "Puer meus, what trouble are you waist-deep in now?"

"The usual near-death obstacles," Fang replied, lips twitching. "Nothing to pay a mind about."

After a lengthy pause that seemed to stretch its way through the entire house, a fluttery sort of sigh suspended itself in the air.

"I will do what is asked of me, children; I have faith you had pure reasons behind your request." A pause; a sip of blood-red wine that slipped down her in one visible gulp. "When will we commence?"

Fang shared a glance, a glimmer of hope sparkling between us. My heart fluttered with the excitement of hummingbirds' wings.

"Well," my voice was weaker than I would have liked, breathless in the enormity of the room. "I believe proper robes are in order, and then as soon as possible, I suppose." Flicked a curious look to Fang. "You have a keep on them, no?"

Nodding thoughtfully, he sipped at his steaming black liquid. The tendrils of heat wrapped about the hardened lines of his face, as if outlining his Grecian beauty. For one head-quirking moment, I had the mad thought that I might look as flawless as him now that I had fledged. I squandered it instantly, though—he was a flawless no one, on heaven or earth, could obtain.

"Let us dress now, then. The sooner we talk to Our Lady, the better." Fang stood in his chair, the grand piece wobbling unsteadily against the carpet. An outstretched hand in my direction. If I listened close enough, I could hear the pulse beating just under the vulnerable skin of his wrist.

Lashes fluttering me out of my thoughts, I gripped his offered hand, enjoying the strong, honey-warm flush spreading through me. But even though that syrup tried its best to supply a remedy to my nerves, butterflies still ran rampant inside me. I swallowed and sent up a silent prayer. To think Our Lady would be standing in front of me soon…well, it was enough to make anyone heady.

"Lead the way, Metatron."

Hope you all enjoyed(: