***GIDEON***

On Sunday morning, everyone's back at Balthazar to make sure all their clothes and belongings are packed for the long journey home. There are three buses to take us back, depending on where we live - one bus goes to Vegas, another to San Francisco, and the third to L.A. There are a few who live in other places, though, but they're all close enough to Balthazar that they don't even need buses - like Fresno or Bakersfield. Or, in Paul and Aron's case, on the outskirts of Coldfire Creek.

I say goodbye to Juliet as she gets on the L.A. bus, then join Luca and the Snow boys on the San Francisco bus, as well as Kyle. As with each of the previous times we've all gone back home, Gabe hunkers down in a window seat, his hood up, trying to sleep. I probably only see him because he's sitting next to Alex, who's wearing blue jeans and a red T-shirt emblazoned with a black-and-white winged cross. I'm reminded of the tattoos he and Gabe both have - we all got to see them eventually after they went and got them on their birthday weekend.

"So where were you last night?" I ask Gabe as I settle into the seat behind him.

"Do you really want the juicy details?" Gabe asks, turning and grinning at everyone around him, and even slinging a wink Kyle's way.

Alex turns to me and says, "He'd give you the juicy details with the slightest provocation. Luca, remember when we went for sushi last month, and Gabe started doing that disgusting anecdote about the chopstick trick or whatever?"

"I've almost managed to forget," Luca says, grimacing. "So fucking rude, dude."

"And he says I'm the cheeky bastard," Alex laughs. No need to ask him about juicy details - it's pretty clear, from the semi-catatonic look he had on his face when he came back to Balthazar this morning to grab his bags, that he got laid for the first time last night.

The bus pulls away. I stay silent, unsure if I should add to the conversation - right now it seems like they're mostly talking guy stuff. I mean, I'm a guy too, but more often than not I find myself sitting back and observing the ways they interact. I need all the practice I can get, because it doesn't come so naturally to me yet. But I'm getting there, especially since I'm always joining them in athletic stuff. I know it sounds so ridiculously hyper-masculine, but we're all enjoying ourselves working out, playing basketball, whatever. Although I'm always playing on the shirts team, never skins, because I'm not too keen on showing off my still-feminine-looking breasts, smaller though they are after five months on T.

"I know I'm gorgeous, Gideon, but can you please stop staring at me? It's bad for my skin."

I blush and avert my gaze from Kyle, whom I'd been absentmindedly looking at for a little while. Believe it or not, I'm almost jealous of Gabe for getting to tap that beautiful ass. Wait a minute - when did I start looking at Kyle? Now I'm confused. And so fucking embarrassed.

Gabe forks a pair of devil's horns at me with his fingers, as if to say, "Hands off, bitch!" Alex practically falls over laughing. Luca does the same at first, then he eerily wipes his face clean of all expression as he says, "Dude, we know you can do better."

The two-hour bus ride finally ends at eleven, and I share one last round of bro-hugs with the guys. As I leave the bus, I crane my head to try and spot my dad - he's way in the back of the group of parents/guardians gathered at the Maguire Mall parking lot in San Castiel. Alex and Gabe's mom is closer by, and I actually get to meet her. She's about my height, olive-skinned, hazel-eyed. Aside from that last feature, Alex looks almost exactly like her. Strangely, she reminds me of a teacher at Spellman's Independence High back on Earth. What was her name...Ellery? Erickson? Something with an 'E,' but I can't really remember.

Luca and Kyle have already moved on to find their families, so now I'm alone. I weave through the crowd until I find my dad. He blinks behind his glasses as he sees me. "I swear to God," he says as he steers me away from the parking lot, "you don't have enough room for all that muscle."

"Gotta bulk up if I'm gonna keep up with the boys," I say, rubbing the bulging biceps on my right arm. "Is that why we're walking home, Adam? It's gonna be a steep climb. Work them calves, you know?"

"I can handle it," he says. "I made it down here, didn't I?"

"Great." I clap my hands right when the "Walk/Don't Walk" sign changes, allowing us to cross the street and ascend into the hills, passing Golden Gate Cemetery on the way up. "Let's both keep on underestimating each other, huh?"

"Exactly," Dad laughs. "I will if you do. Quid pro quo."

We're both a bit sweaty by the time we reach our first destination - Mary's Restaurant and Pies, where we've gone to lunch each time I've come home from school this year. "So, have things gone well for you?" Dad asks after we're both seated. "You seem to be making fast friends with those guys you got off the bus with."

"Very," I say, running my finger down the menu until I finally find my old favorite - the Pesto Salmon BLT. "They're really cool, they accepted me without a question. Except for Luca, who was crushed out of me back when I was Dani."

"Oh, that had to be awkward, huh?"

"Sort of. At first. But he's cool with it now. Not that, uh, he wasn't cool with it before. But he was weirded out, 'cause he kept thinking, what if that made him gay?"

"I'm sure your friends wouldn't have minded if he were."

"His parents would have. Catholics, you know?"

"Don't remind me," Dad says with a huge, fake shudder. But it's true - I don't think he's so much as prayed in years. Which I like, because that's one of the first reasons I was able to relate to him again after we reunited.

"Hello," says our server, a middle-aged blonde. "Are we ready to order?"

We place our orders, and the server leaves us. Minutes pass in silence, which isn't all that unusual for me and my dad, believe it or not. Especially when we're in public, because a lot of what we talk about isn't stuff we necessarily trust passersby to hear. So I just stay quiet, watching the other diners.

One in particular catches my eye. She looks oddly familiar, a skinny woman with flaming red hair down to her shoulders, but I can only see her from behind. I take a closer look and see a black jacket draped over the back of her seat. She sits there, alone, scooping up forkfuls of pie (cherry, I think) in an almost mechanical way. Finally, when she apparently finishes, she turns her head and raises her hand to signal the server to give her the check.

I cringe and turn away, shrinking down into my seat. It couldn't be. Could it?

I look up again and confirm my worst fear.

That's my mother eating in the same restaurant as me.

"What's wrong, Gideon?" Dad asks. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I pull myself back up, hoping against hope that the woman doesn't see me. Luckily, she's again turned away, head bent down as she signs the check.

"Nothing," I say as nonchalantly as possible. "Thought I saw a spider."

Dad raises his eyebrow. "I thought you liked spiders. You have that pin on your bag, don't you? The Spider-Man pin?"

"That's different," I say, smiling as I remember the day Jay Cross gave me that pin - God, was it a year ago? I wish I could have given it back to him before I left, but I only remembered I still had it on my backpack after I'd gotten over the Bridge in Spellman. One day, I'll make sure he gets it back. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - my heart wasn't in it with my relationship with Jay. But that doesn't mean I don't miss him. And for sure, I regret not explaining to him my reasons for leaving in the first place.

The woman gets up from her seat and I make myself inconspicuous once again until she leaves. It helps that our server comes back and gives us our food, which at least distracts us. I look at the woman out of the corner of my eye once the serve is gone, and she's not making eye contact with me or my dad. It almost seems like she's doing that on purpose.

"Hang on a second," Dad says, looking around in surprise. "I just thought...no, it couldn't have been. Could it?" He laughs to himself. "No, Leah's still out on Earth, isn't she?" He looks at me and puts two and two together. "Jesus. You saw her too, didn't you, Gid?"

I look up and, after a few moments, nod silently.

"I swear, that woman..." Dad mutters, his voice trailing off. I think he starts cussing in Spanish at some point. Then he calms down and says, "Don't worry. I promise, Leah isn't gonna ruin this for us. Ever. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I say. But in my head, I'm not so sure I believe it. And it gets stuck in my head, which keeps me from enjoying my food as much as I should. Not the sandwich, and not even the slice of cherry pie (my favorite and Dad's both) I get for dessert. I don't think anyone can blame me for having lost my appetite. I end up getting a doggie bag - hopefully I'll eat my pie for dessert later tonight.

When we've gotten back home, I unpack my bags. Everything goes back into my closet, drawers, etc. until it appears that I never even left. It's so weird, how I'm living with Dad again but spending the vast majority of my time away from home.

At least there's this much to be said for it - it absolutely, positively, un-fucking-equivocally beats the shit out of living with my mom.

There's something I've never told anyone, not even Alex or Juliet or Marco or Luca. The real reason why I left when I did, when I could have left so many hundreds of times before, was because Dad sent me a letter and told me that he was out of prison (where he'd been incarcerated on trumped-up kidnapping charges after his first attempt to save me from my mom's wrath failed). If I was willing, I could join him and go back to Heaven with him.

I'm a bad, bad angel for not believing in God, but there was no time when I was closer to regaining my lost faith than when I found that letter in the mail. That letter, I carry it with me wherever I go. I've spent the last year either tucking it into my duffel bag, or putting it into whatever drawer happens to be near the place where I'm currently sleeping. If not enough to prove me wrong as an atheist, it's enough to remind me that after so many years of feeling abandoned, Adam Cabrera still loves me. And that I still have a father to look up to.

I'm surprised Alex never called my bluff on the story I sold him about meeting a bunch of other abused teenage angels who ran away from parents who forced them to hide their powers. I'm a little surprised at myself, actually, for even sticking to that story months after I crafted it in my mind.

But it beats having people know the truth and think my dad's a hell of a lot more badass than he really is.

If, somehow, my mom came after us, I don't think I could trust him to keep me safe like I should.

That's not as bad as you might think, though. I'm a big boy, getting bigger every day. Especially when I reward myself for finally completing the long, long job of unpacking by retreating into the guest room at the end of the hall, which I've converted (with Dad's help) into a gym, and launching into an even longer, much sweatier workout.

It's how I build the more perfect version of me I need myself to be. More visibly masculine, more confident, more capable of defending myself in a pinch. And besides, "no pain, no gain" aside, it feels so fucking good. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.

Ithelps me look forward to the future.