Author's note: This is yet another slash story. It's not done yet, but I'm working on it. It's actually part of a series of slash stories that I'm writing. The other two are Should have been me and Ai, both of which you should read too. Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, as are favorites and alerts. Hope you like it!

Beloved

Chapter one: Of mysteries and boyfriends

Last night, I dreamed of an angel. She was the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I knew instantly that she was not human. How could she be? No human has ever been that perfect. She looked at me with luminescent azure eyes, and beckoned slightly for me to follow. I couldn’t help but go along, and she drew me out of myself and into an existence that I had never imagined possible.

She didn’t say anything, but as the dream faded, she kissed me, and as her lips touched mine, I saw sadness beyond anything I have ever witnessed. Her expression didn’t change, but I could see the pain in her eyes. It was the most haunting thing I have ever seen. I will never forget it.

I looked up from the page of my journal, eyes widening as I realized just how late I really was. I flipped the notebook shut, shoved it into the drawer, and dropped the pen in after it before closing and locking the drawer. I don’t entirely trust my roommate, and what I write in that journal is far too private for anyone to see. I slid out of bed, wincing as I caught sight of the numbers on the bedside clock. My boss was going to kill me!

I skipped breakfast, knowing that I would regret it later, and not taking the time to care. I would survive. I dashed out the door and down the stairs, hollering a goodbye to my roommate, far too rushed to even consider waiting for the elevator. I gasped a breathless greeting to the man at the bus stop as I skidded to a halt and collapsed onto the cold plastic bench. I glanced at my watch. 30 seconds to spare. Maybe I would survive today after all.

The bus lumbered down the street, spraying waves of graying slush all over everywhere as it ground to a halt. The man, obviously less accustomed than I to the winter hazards of public transportation, didn’t dodge quickly enough, and he found himself dripping wet and yelling curses. No one paid any attention to him.

I allowed the warmth of the bus heater to creep through me, penetrating my skin and gently brushing the core of my heart as I settled into the seat. I shivered slightly. The bus drove on, oblivious to the angry mutters of the man and the honking of cars able to go physically faster than it. I risked another glance at my watch, realizing with resignation that I was going to be late after all. I sighed. Served me right for reminiscing about my dreams, I supposed. If I’d been paying more attention, I would have realized that the snow would slow the busses down and would have caught the earlier one. I grimaced. There wasn’t much I could do about it now, and I would just have to take what my boss gave out.

I stepped off the bus regretfully, instantly missing the warmth as I plowed into the driving snow. The thought of my boss’ frosty reception to my lateness didn’t help matters any. I really hate him, and the only reason I still worked there was that it paid better than McDonald’s, which was the only other thing hiring at the time.

My boss glowered at me as I dropped my coat into a sopping heap on the pristine floor. I was too cold and annoyed to care.

“Late again, Sarah,” he growled sourly, pointedly looking away from the mess than was my outer garment.

“It’s snowing,” I pointed out waspishly. “The busses are running late.”

He scowled. “Buy a car.”

“Pay me more, and I will,” I snapped, stalking passed him and ignoring his angry mutter. Thumping my bag onto the desk, I sat down and resisted the urge to burry my head in my hands. That would have been professional.

The day passed, alternating between moments of rage and moment of starvation that blended together into a single haze. My coworkers seemed to notice my mood – or they just didn’t care – because no one spoke to me. Or maybe they tried and I was too distracted to notice. Either way, I spent the day in silence.

The bus ride home was nothing remarkable. The snow hadn’t stopped, and the dividing marks of the streets were single strips of only slightly gray whiteness. I got off the bus and walked into my apartment, kicking my boots off and glancing around to see if my roommate was home yet. She wasn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief. I love Mandy dearly, but she is both annoying and untrustworthy. Not that I’ll ever tell her that but there’s no denying that it was nice to be alone for a while.

I slipped into my bedroom, heading towards the drawer where I kept my dream journals. I unlocked it and pulled the top notebook out. I looked at it for a long moment before opening it, my fingers gently tracing the picture of the cover. I’d drawn it when I first bought the book, imbuing it with my essence. Now, it represented far more than a simple place to record dreams and feelings. It was the one place where I could truly be myself.

I flipped it open again, rereading the entry I’d written that morning. Now that I thought about it again, that wasn’t the first time I’d dreamed about the angel. She’d come once before, when I was still a little girl. I put the current volume back, digging deeper into the drawer. I took another journal out carefully, feeling almost reverent as I did so. It had been a while since I opened up the older notebooks, and it was with quiet excitement that I opened the cover.

I was confronted with pages of slightly childish handwriting, the same mix of print and cursive that I still use. I pawed through the pages, stopping here and there to skim an entry. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I scanned the words eagerly. Yes, yes it was the same angel. I had described her in detail, from deep blue eyes to snow white gown to sadly longing expression. She had only looked at me, her eyes soulful and patient.

I closed that notebook too, leaning back and closing my eyes. I could see her clearly, her flawless profile thrown into stark relief by the golden light of the setting sun behind her. She turned her head and looked at me, stretching out an arm towards me. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Sarah!”

My eyes jerked open, and I saw Mandy leaning over me. I groaned slightly and looked over at the clock. My eyes widened. I’d been asleep for almost an hour!

“You’re awake,” she proclaimed, looking down triumphantly.

“I noticed,” I muttered dryly. “What is it?”

“It’s your night to cook,” she reminded me, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

I grimaced and sat up, realizing as I did so that I’d left the drawer with the dream books wide open. I dropped the book I’d been reading into it and pushed it closed, locking it securely.

“What are those, anyway?” Mandy demanded, looking curiously at the drawer.

“Notebooks,” I said briefly.

She rolled her eyes again. “And what’s in them?”

I repressed a sigh of irritation. “My dreams,” I said shortly.

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded.

“That’s so cool!”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic. She, for once, seemed to take the hint, because she grinned.

“You need anything from the store?”

I rapidly reviewed the cupboards, then shook my head. She grinned again, then left the room, to my profound relief. Mandy is hard to deal with at the best of times, and I’m not at my best just after waking up. Now that she was out of the room, I felt myself relax again. My eyes wandered over to the drawer, but I forced myself not to open it again. If I did that, I’d never leave, and I really did have work to do.

Mandy was waiting for me in the kitchen. I knew that she was still curious about the dream books, but, to my relief, she didn’t say anything about them. Instead, she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and resting her weight on them.

“So, what are you doing tonight?”

I shrugged. “Scott called yesterday. I thought we’d go out tonight.”

She grinned. “Oh good! You need to relax some, you now! When’s the last time you actually enjoyed yourself?”

I grimaced. “Mandy, your idea of enjoying yourself is very different from mine,” I reminded her.

“Well, what do you consider to be ‘enjoying yourself’?”

‘Being left alone,’ I thought rebelliously. But I couldn’t tell her that. She would just worry about me and I could live without that. Instead, I shrugged, willing her just to drop the subject. She didn’t.

“Come on Sarah! What do you do for fun?”

I scowled, but there was no distracting her. With a sigh, I admitted, “I draw.”

She blinked. “That’s it?”

I nodded.

She grimaced. “You are so boring, you know that? It’s a good thing you have Scott to drag you out and force you to have a good time.”

I didn’t answer, fiddling with the dials on the stove as an excuse for my silence. Eventually she sighed, threw her hands up in exasperation, and left for the store. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Two hours later, my so-called boyfriend drove up to the door. I say so-called because I know he’s been cheating on me. He won’t admit it, but I know that it’s true. I’ve met his other girlfriend, though he doesn’t know, and she hates me with a passion. The feeling is entirely mutual. Still, I got into the car with him, fixing a smile on my face and enduring his welcoming kiss. He was better than nothing, after all, and going out with him got me out of the house and out of Mandy’s well-meaning but maddening presence.

He took me out to dinner that night. He was on his best behavior, after having been scolded rather firmly by me last time we went out, and I only had to endure a hand persistently making its way up my skirt and towards the goal. I never failed to bat it away, but he didn’t give up. In the end, I allowed him one single touch, which he used almost reverently. I struggled to contain a snort as he caressed me. It was nice to know that I was still attractive, even if the only person who thought so was a guy who was almost ten years older than me. Something’s better than nothing, after all.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking about my dream and the anger who had appeared to me there. As I pretended to listen to Scott’s ramblings, my mind drifted back to the angel. She had seemed so sad, as though nothing in her world was going right. I wondered what had happened to her and why she’d chosen to visit me. Was I special in some way? What did I have that made her come to me? It never even occurred to me that it was merely a coincidence, and as Scott drove me back to the apartment, I made up my mind to find out what she needed. I would help her, I knew, and all that I needed to know was how.

“See you tomorrow,” he said as he stopped the car.

I shook my head. “Sorry. I’ve got overtime tomorrow. Maybe the next day.”

He sighed, but didn’t press me. Instead, he leaned over and deposited a thorough kiss on my lips before allowing me to leave the car. Despite myself, I kissed him back and, as I climbed the stairs and let myself into the apartment, I was almost convinced that he really did love me. I was a fool, I know, but I couldn’t help hoping.