New story! This is definitely different than my first one and the main character is, um...interesting. So I hope you enjoy!

Welcome to Bridgette Wayland's Guide to Saving the World!

Who is 'Bridgette Wayland' you may be wondering? Well, that's me. You can call me Bridge or Bridgette, I really couldn't care less. I respond to both. You may also be asking, 'why, Bridgette, what are we saving the world from?'. That's a simple answer—total destruction, chaos, the reign of evil, y'know, the apocalypse in general. 'But, Bridgette' you may continue to ask, 'what makes you entitled to write this guide?'. And again, this is a simple answer—because I am currently in the process of, you guessed it, saving the world! Seriously, I'm not joking. Heck, maybe I've already saved the world. You won't know unless you read on, will you?

It really would be in your best interests to read this guide because you're probably wanting to know if I succeeded in saving the world or if you should be packing up rations and be preparing for the worst. Now, if you're smart and you do continue to read on, I'm going to have to give you a few quick warnings.

1. This is no fairytale.

2. This isn't all humour, glitter and prancing unicorns, so prepare yourself.

3. My last warning; prepare to laugh, cry and scream folks. Keep your hands and feet inside at all times and enjoy the ride!

Tip #1

The first time I saw him, I was downtown.

I walked into a large, stone church—y'know, one of those buildings that was too small to be classified as a cathedral, but too big to simply be a church? Yeah, one of those. I actually spent a lot of time in the place because I found that it was a very nice place to go when I wanted to draw in solitude and silence. But I digress. I walked in through the towering, oak doors and made my way down the aisle, my boots thumping against the cool, stone floor. I sat down in a pew half way towards the front and propped my feet up on the one in front of me. I dug my sketch book out of my bag and flipped to a blank page, digging a pencil out as well.

I propped my sketch book on my bent knees and placed the tip of my pencil against the paper. And that's when I paused. I glanced around the church slowly, my eyes flickering over the priest near the altar and the man in the front pew, his head bent in prayer. It took me a moment to figure out what to draw but when my eyes landed on the stain-glass window design of an angel flaring its wings, holding the sun in its outstretched hands, I just knew I had to draw it. So, with that image in my mind, I turned my eyes down on the paper and began to move the pencil.

The priest looked up briefly when he heard the sound of lead scratching on paper but when he saw me he just nodded and looked back down, used to my presence in the church. I glanced occasionally at the stain-glass window to reference the image and it was when I was looking up at one point when I saw him. It had been one of those moments where you could practically hear the epic soundtrack music playing in the background. And I'm talking Star Wars, Lord of the Rings epic. Yeah, that's how momentous the moment was.

One of the church doors swung open and a young man strode in. The reason I took any notice of him at all in the first place was because he was wearing a black t-shirt with a leather jacket over it when outside, it was closing in on twenty-five degrees. Heck, I was sweating and I had on a tank top and jeans. So all I was doing—I swear—was staring at a guy who must have been insane. But, I was female so I couldn't just stare and not take in what he looked like. I mean, what kind of girl would I be if I didn't?

He was tall and broad-shouldered and as I watched he raised a tanned hand to rake it through his golden hair which was at that weird length between short and shaggy. Beneath the jacket he was wearing I caught a glimpse of a lean and lanky body but all those observations decided to go bye-bye when I saw his eyes. One was a sharp flash of bottle glass green while the other was a warm pool of golden hazel. I had never seen anyone with two different coloured eyes before so my inner geek artist started to squeal with amazed excitement.

His uneven gaze flickered briefly around the inside of the church, landing briefly on the priest before sliding away and landing on me. I was so startled by the sudden contact of our gazes that I didn't bother to look away. Something akin to recognition flared in his eyes but as fast as it came it was gone and he was looking away.

It was only when my chest began to ache that I noticed I had been holding my breath. Realizing that I had to breathe unless I wanted to pass out from lack of oxygen, I sucked in a quick gasp of air as I dropped my gaze back down to my sketch book. Well, that had been an interesting development. I shook my head and stared at my drawing, frowning. Somehow, I had accidentally drawn a dark line right across the angel's face. Damn. Grumbling under my breath I flipped the pencil around so that I could use the eraser on the end to scrub carefully at the dark line, trying to get rid of it.

Thankfully, I was able to make it disappear so I let out a sigh of relief. I would have been royally pissed if I'd had to start the whole thing over. I flipped the pencil back around so that I was using the proper side again and placed it carefully back on the paper. I pushed back a strand of black hair that had escaped from the messy bun at the base of my neck and resumed sketching.

"That's quite good," a voice that reminded me of melted dark chocolate rasped from behind me.

Startled, my hand jerked and drew a vicious black line right across my whole drawing. My hand clenched tightly around the pencil as my teeth snapped together. I took a deep breath and turned to see who had made me ruin my drawing. Staring back at me with amusement was a pair of mismatched eyes.

"Thanks," I drawled at the young man. "I think the dark line adds an ne sais quoi,"

A small smirk curled his full lips at the corners. "You are quite welcome,"

I gave him the stink eye for a brief moment before turning back around. I stared down at my sketch book where it rested in my lap and let out a dramatic, all-suffering sigh. Well, that drawing was totally useless now. Thanks a lot, mysterious two-coloured eyes guy. Pouting to myself, I ripped the piece of paper out of the book and crumpled it into a ball. I stuffed it into my bag and glanced back down at the now blank sheet staring up at me. Suddenly, I didn't really feel like drawing anymore. With a small sigh under my breath, I swung my feet down off the pew in front of me and shoved my sketching utensils into my bag, hearing the ball of paper I'd previously shoved in there crumple under the sudden weight of the sketch book.

"Leaving so soon?" the sketch-ruiner asked coolly.

I glanced back at him as I rose to my feet. He was stretched out in the pew, arms slung over the back of it, his left foot resting in his right knee. He looked incredibly comfortable and incredibly sexy, the bastard.

"Yep," I chirped, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder. "See you later...or, y'know, not,"

He grinned at that, flashing straight white teeth, his eyes twinkling with amusement. I narrowed my own at him before sniffing and stalking out of the church, nose in the air. His liquid sugar laugh followed me out the door and continued to echo in my head as I marched down the street to the nearest bus stop.


The second time I saw him, I was in Victoria Park.

I caught a bus there since I didn't have my driver's licence(I know, I'm seventeen, how sad can I get?) like I usually did on Saturdays. Once I hopped off I made my way through the park, waving to random people as I went. This time around, I had finally given in and pulled on a pair of shorts but me being me, I had kept on my combat boots, so the mismatch of denim cut offs and boots was probably why I was receiving such weird looks. That, and my shirt said I reject your reality and substitute my own. So it was probably both. Or I could have just been being presumptuous and maybe those people weren't staring at me at all. Bah, who knew.

As I meandered along one of the pathways in the park, I dug my metallic blue Zippo lighter out of my pocket. Now, before you go thinking 'gasp! She smokes!' I'll have to tell you that no, I don't. I just happen to be a bit of a pyromaniac. Which leads to me carrying around a lighter just to play with it. I hit the trigger and the small flame sprang to life, wavering as a light breeze caressed it. A small smile tugged up my lips and I started to hum under my breath as I continued to flick it on and off.

I finally found an unoccupied bench that was situated under a towering maple and threw myself down on it. I plopped my bag down beside me and dug around inside it for a moment. My fingers came into contact with the metal rings that held my sketch book together so I quickly closed my hand around it and tugged it out. It was followed quickly by a pencil and after shoving the Zippo lighter back into my pocket, I settled down to sketch.

I drew a tree, a flower, a bird, heck, I even drew a squirrel but I just couldn't seem to get in the mood to draw a full-fledged picture. So with a soft sigh, I packed all my drawing supplies away and flopped down so that I was lying on my back on the bench. After a few moments of staring blankly at the sky above me, I dug my lighter out of my pocket and flipped the lid back, hitting the trigger to light the flame. I flicked it on and off repeatedly, watching the flame flutter in the air. After a moment, I held my hand out absently, levelling it over the lighter so that the hot flame could tickle my palm. Just before it reached the point where I would burn, I removed my hand and let it cool off before putting it back. People who walked by gave me incredulous looks and at one point, a woman placed her hand over her young daughter's eyes. I couldn't help but grin at that—yes, that's right, shield you daughter from the crazy girl.

Lying there, playing with the lighter while scarfing down a small bag of gummy bears, was how he found me. I had gone on to alternating between my fingers while continuing to flick the lighter on and off and was starting back at my thumb for the third time when a voice that reminded me of warm, melted dark chocolate oozed over me.

"That's not very safe,"

I jerked upright, startled—the rest of my gummy bears spilling onto the ground—and hissed when the lighter came into direct contact with my index finger, leaving behind a red welt. Eyes watering, I glanced up and over my shoulder, meeting the uneven gaze of the young man from the church.

"What are you? Stalking me?" I demanded, sticking my finger in my mouth, frowning.

He smirked and stuffed his tanned hands into his jean pockets. "Hardly,"

I narrowed my eyes at him, deciding not to reply since I still had my finger in my mouth. He was wearing black jeans and another black t-shirt and I had to wonder how he wasn't boiling dressed in all that dark clothing.

I took my finger out of my mouth and examined the mild burn now adorning it. Well, it wasn't too bad, nothing serious. I sighed and picked up the lighter, stuffing it back into my pocket. I gave the spilled gummy bears a brief, morose look before rising to my feet.

"I told you it wasn't safe," he nodded at my hand.

"Yeah," I glowered at him slightly and waved my finger at him. "I have you to blame for this,"

"Me?" he quirked up one golden brow, the corners of his full lips tilting farther upwards.

I nodded. "If you hadn't startled me, this wouldn't have happened."

"Of course," he rolled his mismatched eyes.

Childishly, I stuck my tongue out at him as I grabbed up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. He chuckled that liquid sugar laugh that made my skin tingle, his eyes twinkling. I snatched up the now-empty gummy bear packet and strode off, crumpling it and tossing it in the nearest garbage can. I heard the scrap of a boot along the path and some how knew that he had followed after me. I hesitated for a moment, staring at a squirrel that was digging in the grass, before turning to face him again. The sunlight was streaming down through the trees, turning his hair a burnished gold and sending dappled shadows across his skin.

"I'm not going to say 'see you later' this time," I commented. "Because apparently, you take that literally. So...bye,"

He just smirked and nodded at me. I nodded back and then turned and walked away down the path. I dug my Zippo lighter back out of my pocket and resumed playing with it, tossing a smirk at the guy over my shoulder.


The third time I saw him, he was on my doorstep. Sort of.

It was Sunday and my parental units—along with my younger sister, Olivia—had gone off to church. Even though I spent time in the church downtown, I had never been one for actually attending a sermon. I found it boring and not at all my style. So I stayed home while the rest of the fam went off to pray and sing hymns. Or whatever it was they did at church on Sundays.

I flopped down on the couch in the living room, still dressed in my pj's with a bowl of Fruit Loops in my lap. I snatched up the TV remote, flipped it on, and began to channel surf as I shovelled the multicoloured loops into my mouth. I ended up watching a rerun of Spongebob since nothing else seemed to be on. I can not begin to explain how retarded that show is. But, in a weird way, it was funny and amusing to watch. So I watched it.

And apparently, it was a marathon of episodes because I went through three of them before I shook myself out of my morning-cartoon stupor and got to my feet. I padded barefoot into the kitchen where I dumped my bowl and glass in the sink. My mp3 player was lying on the kitchen table—how it got there, I have no idea—so I quickly snatched it up and inserted the ear buds, flicking it on. My ears were immediately accosted by the sound of Belladonna Revolver and a smile spread across my face.

I shimmied my way out of the kitchen, banging my head to the beat of Utopia. I was just prancing out the doorway when I stubbed my toe on the doorjamb. I swore, hopping around on one foot, holding the throbbing one in my hand. I really needed to watch where I was going. That wasn't the only time I'd done it and I should have really learned from my past mistakes.

I sat down hard on the tiled kitchen floor and glared at my big toe. It was red and throbbing angrily at me, as if it was my fault it was now in pain when in reality, it was the wall's fault. I reached out and prodded it a couple times, wincing when it gave a larger throb. Well, it wasn't broken at least. Before I could do much more about it—like get ice, for instance—I heard a thud on the front door slice through the sounds of heavy bass and drums. I jerked my head up, ripping the headphones out of my ears. I rose to my feet, favouring the right one, and limped my way to the front door, tossing my mp3 down onto the little desk in the entryway. I reached the door and looked through the peephole but upon seeing nothing, I unlocked it and swung it open.

"Oh, shit," I swore immediately.

Slumped on the doorstep was the guy from Victoria Park and the church. His golden hair was matted with a dark red liquid which I refused to name—even though I knew what it was—the shirt he was wearing was torn in several places, revealing golden skin covered in cuts and bruises and I'm pretty sure the guy was out cold.

All I could do was stare at him for a moment or two, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. And then I heard one of our neighbours call out a hello from across the street. I swore again, waved back quickly, and then knelt down to grab the guy. I slid my hands under his shoulders and heaved, my breath whooshing out of me. How heavy was this guy? Seriously. Grunting, I struggled to drag the guy inside, kicking the door shut behind me. I couldn't carry him much farther so I had to drop him—a tad unceremoniously—in the entryway.

Now, what to do...what to do. I stared down at him, trying to figure out what, exactly, I needed to do next. I mean, it's not like I've ever had to take care of someone who's been beaten—because that's clearly what had happened to him—so I had no idea what to do. Maybe...yeah. I turned and bounded up the stairs to the bathroom. I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with cold water before hurrying back down the stairs. After hesitating for another moment, I rolled him over onto his back and went about trying to remove his shirt. Which was a lot harder than you'd think it would be. I mean, he wasn't helping, being knocked out and all that, and the blood was making it stick to his skin in places. But finally I got it off of him only to pause and survey the necklace dangling from his neck.

A silver chain was looped around his throat, a pendant resting just above his heart. The pendant itself was made out of white-gold and was the carved image of a dragon rearing up on its hind legs which were balanced on a circle while its fore legs clutched a cross. The only ornamentation on the pendant was the dragon's eye which was made out of a red gemstone that was most likely a ruby. I had the urge to reach out and touch it and had stretched out my hand in order to do so before I caught myself. Help him first, Bridge, leave the other crap for later.

I started to dab at the blood surrounding his wounds with the wet washcloth, getting rid of the drying red liquid so that it would be easier to bandage him up. At least, that's what I hoped to do. The moment my hand came into contact with his skin though, his eyes flew open and he lunged at me, slamming me by my shoulders into the wall. I yelped in surprise, the washcloth falling from my hand.

"Whoa there!" I gasped. "Dude, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

His breathing was ragged and he seemed to be staring through me for a moment before my words seemed to worm their way into his head. His eyes came into focus and locked on my face, widening in surprise when he noticed he had me pinned to the wall. Realizing what he had done he staggered back only to collapse back on the floor.

"Crude," I sighed to myself before kneeling down in front of him and waving my hand in front of his face. "Yo, buddy?"

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No problem," I waved his apology off. "If, uh, you don't mind...I'm gonna try to fix up your wounds,"

"Have you never done this before?" he asked warily, picking up on the uncertainty in my voice.

"You got that right, bub," I nodded. "I mean, it's not like I ever thought I'd have some random dude collapse on my doorstep, y'know?. I never thought about learning first aid,"

"Right," he groaned, shifting to lean against the wall. "Well, clean them first,"

"No shit, Sherlock," I drawled, picking up the washcloth from where it was resting on the floor.

He grimaced slightly before stilling. I glanced at his face briefly before beginning to clean away the drying blood. Every now and then he would wince when I pressed too hard and I would quickly apologize and lessen the strength I used. Finally though, I had all the blood gone—except for where it was in his hair—so I rocked back on my heels.

" what?" I asked sheepishly.

His mismatched eyes flickered open and gazed at me for a moment before shutting again. "Bandages,"

"Riiight," I said slowly.

Where the hell would I find bandages? Hmm. There had to be a first aid kit somewhere in the house so all I had to do was find it. There were bound to be bandages in that. With that in mind, I rose to my feet and began my search. I checked the bathroom in the basement first but it wasn't there so I jogged back up the stairs and to the bathroom on the second floor. I riffled through the drawers and cabinets until I found it beneath the sink. I let out a crow of delight before darting back down the stairs.

The guy was still leaning against the wall, his breathing a tad bit more normal than it had been when I'd first started. His eyes slid open when he heard my approach and I waved at him, showing off the first aid kit.

"Look what I found!" I sang as I knelt back down beside him.

"Yay for you," he forced past clenched teeth.

I scowled at him. "Jeez, someone's a bit grumpy,"

He gave me a highly unimpressed look before motioning for me to get on with it. I stuck my tongue out at him briefly before flipping open the lid to the kit. And there, smiling up at me, was a roll of pristine, white bandages. I grinned and flashed the guy a triumphant look as I pulled them out.

"Can I ask you something?" I chattered as I began to wind the bandages around him.

"You just did," he pointed out, wincing slightly. "But ask away,"

I rolled my eyes. "What's your name?"

"Declan," he breathed out, shifting his position slightly. "Declan Kay,"

"Well," I blew a breath at my forehead. "Nice to meet you, Declan. I'm—,"

"Bridgette," Declan inserted quickly. "I know,"

I paused in my ministrations to stare at him. "Wow. That's really quite creepy, do you know that? Maybe I was right, maybe you are a stalker,"

He snorted. "I'm no stalker,"

"Uh huh," I nodded. "Of course you aren't,"

Declan rolled his eyes at me again but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I smiled back and then snipped off the end of the bandage and rolled back on my heels. I got to my feet and tugged a hand through my hair, looking at my handiwork. Not too bad, if I do say so myself. It looked almost professional.

"There," I huffed. "Done. Now all you have to do is not die,"

He rolled his eyes again. "Trust me, that won't be a problem,"

Tip #1: Learn first aid. Seriously. You'll never know when you may

need it and it's a good skill to have.