Me: This idea just came to me. The rating is for later chapters, and I will write those chapters cause that's what's gonna happen in this story. Everything. Lets see if it makes for something interesting.

Tom: Enjoy her fiction. Hopefully this one might not be completely pointless.

Me: Oh, it won't you may even like it.

Tom: *matter-of-factly* Of course I won't like it. I never like your stories.

Me: Ass. *throws a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories at him* This'll be a little different then what I usually write. Yeah, I'm big with romance, but haven't done much with the whole supernatural thing. Also, a lot of things in this will be a little *ahem* mature. Hence the rating. But relax and enjoy.

Tom: Where's the-

Me: HERE'S your damn CHEESE!!! *pelts him with cheese*



Different Kind of Angel

Think angel. Think peace. Tranquility. Love. Even a guardian. My angel was different. He was very different, in fact, from the usual cliché.

First off, he doesn't have wings. Yeah, okay, so we've all heard of the angel who still hasn't gotten his wings. Sure, there was Clarence in It's a Wonderful Life, right? "C'mon, George, help out old Clarence get his wings! He hasn't been able to prove himself worthy and now he has another shot! So, he's gonna show you that you really do have a wonderful life here in Bedford Falls." I used to really like that movie, and it used to make me cry. Smiling through warm, joyous tears and throwing my arms around the nearest friend. Now, after all that has happened, it doesn't make me cry happy tears. Cold, icy ones stain my cheeks and I shiver with the harsh remembrance... of my own angel.

So, no, he didn't have wings. And, no, he couldn't fly. He probably wouldn't have, even if he had wanted to. My angel wasn't the type to enjoy pipe dreams of this sort. He was much more grounded than I, even though he wasn't human.

His face was always brooding. His eyes were the gray of a silvery thundercloud when he was bored or remotely pleased, then a glowing copper when he was feeling devious or angry; these being the two colors I witnessed the most.

His nose was long and narrow, his cheeks sunken in. His lips were a soft pink that pursed when he was displeased. He had soft, downy, magnolia- colored hair, cut short but still hanging in his eyes, which used to annoy me at times. It made him look like some anime bishounen. His chest was broad, his arms and legs long, his body well-proportioned. His hands were strong and large, one of the first things I noticed about him. I don't know why, but his hands could bring me to my knees when he wanted them to, whether it was a mere, sensual touch, or a hard blow. My angel did what he wanted with me, and I went along without question.

I loved my angel. I'll never know what he really felt of me.
There was a time when I was a normal girl. So normal that I slipped through the cracks of a fast-moving society where everyone was either seeking attention or merely dropping back. You had to prove yourself worthy in that world, or you would slip through the fingers of your society like the desert sands.

I received decent grades in school; nothing to be commended for, but also good enough to keep my parents from interfering. I joined no sports team, nor was I involved in any club. I was alone since my first breath. Well... not entirely alone. There was the occasional friend or two, but there always came a falling-out. The year I was a freshman in high school; the year I felt most alone; the year I had made one friend named Tom and the year I had declined offers to join any club that came my way... that was the year I met my angel.

Tom was funny, being my friend. He had bedded every girl in Abigail Adams High (so the legend goes), except me. Not that it was a school full of sluts; it's just that Tom really had a way with words, among other things. After he had seen me once at school, zoning out and drawing a picture of my hand, he developed a respect for me, I guess.

"Would you like to eat lunch with me today?" He asked, placing his books on my desk.

I arched an eyebrow, knowing his reputation. "No, thank you."

He leaned over his books, and caught sight of my drawing. "Whoa! That's really good! Did you do that?"

My cheeks began to burn as I struggled with words. No one else in the world had ever known I could draw. And I had always hid my secret so well. And now this creep knew, "Sort' a..."

He shook his head in disbelief. "It looks like a photograph. You're really good. That kicks ass." I felt my lips turn into a grin, something that didn't happen often, and I moved my things so he could place his lunch on the desk.

I talked to Tom, the junior who had slept with every girl from Cindy Hart, the head cheerleader, to Tonya Terrington, the lead in the school play, to Jenny Rogna, the smartest girl in school.

He grinned sheepishly over his ham sandwich. "You'd think if she was such a brain she would have steered clear of me."

I shook my head and stared at my untouched bag of Lays and week-old, Chinese take-out. "So, basically, you sleep with every girl you can find, and never call them back."

Tom shrugged. "Pretty much. Do you think I'm a jerk?"

I grinned over the table at him. "No. If you've got a system that works..."

His white smile grew and he asked if I was going to eat my lunch. When he was between mouthfuls of Chicken Lo Main, I asked,

"Do you tell girls all these things before you sleep with them?"

"Not usually," he bit into an Oreo, chewing thoughtfully.

"Are you planning to try to bed me?"

He paused. Then smiled. "Do you want me to?"

I shook my head, answering truthfully. "I'd rather you not."

"That's cool!" he leaned back in his chair and gave me a lop-sided grin, one I would come to know well. "We can be friends."

"Sure," I laughed, "Friends."

We managed to stay friends for quite some time, actually. I owe a lot to Tom.

But the day my angel came to me, Tom was absent from school, busy practicing with his garage band, and I was feeling alone. I ate lunch in the classroom, as Tom and I usually did, but without his wise-cracks and vacuum-like eating habits.

I bit into a soft pretzel and pondered why I always came to school with left-overs, and wonders of the microwave. But now wasn't the right time to think about that. If I started to, I would begin to think about my home, and my parents, and I didn't need that at the moment. I sighed and poked the now-cold pretzel. This doesn't seem like the most traumatic or dramatic moment for a guardian angel to appear. But that was when it happened, and that was when he came.

Coming through the door like he owned the school, my angel sauntered in and glared at me. He was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black, leather trench coat, which was too big for his thin body, making him look tougher and more imposing than he truly was. Slowly, he moved over to me and placed his hands on the sides of my desk,

"You Amaya?" his voice was deep and rich like liquid fire.

I might have smiled, knowing my name was the only thing interesting about me, "Yes."

"Congratulations, kid," he sat on the desk in front of me and crossed his long legs, "You've got yourself a guardian angel."

I blinked, "What? You're joking, right?"

He stared at me with boredom in his silver-laced eyes. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he produced a pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. As he searched his other pocket for a lighter, I gasped and yelped louder than I had intended,

"This is a government building! You can't smoke in here!"

He gave me that look again, and lit up. "Its not like you kids aren't always blowing smoke up the principal's ass. Are you saying I can't join in?"

I almost laughed but was too afraid to bother. "Well, you still shouldn't be smoking. The teacher's going to come back in a few minutes, and... and... You're not even old enough to be doing that anyway!"

He stared at me, his head cocked to one side, his magnolia locks falling over his eyes, "I'm 45459 years old. I can do whatever I want."

"Look, is this about that whole guardian angel thing again, because I'm not buying it! Go make fun of some other hopeless kid!" I was shaking. Never before had I been so assertive in my life.

"You have a self-esteem problem, my dear." He took a long drag from his cigarette, then put it out by crushing it into the fine wood of the desk. Suddenly, he had leaned forward, had grabbed me roughly by the shirt, and pulled me upward so that our faces were almost touching, his lips moving slowly with each word an inch above mine.

"Good thing I got here in time. I'm going to show you why the sun sets. What its like to be the center of the word. How a bird can fly into the heavens without being burned by the sun. I'm going to show you... what makes life worth living. And I promise you'll thank me."

And as soon as he had appeared, my angel was gone.

~To be Continued...~

Tom: O.O

Me: What?

Tom: Is the guy who sleeps with everybody... that isn't based on me?? Is it???

Me: No.

Tom: Good! *turns back to the fridge*

Me: *to readers* *stage whisper* YES!!!!!!

Tom: Where's the cheese?

Me: You ate it all!

Tom: You lie! LIAR!

Me: Shut up!

Tom: No, YOU shut up!

Me: Oy! This is never going to work...

Tom: No, YOU SHUT UP!!

Me: *sighs*