Chapter Thirty-One: I Hurt You

"Okay, do Angels fly or teleport?" I call out to Sam who has already taken his place on the bench once more.

He looks up at me, head inclined to the side as his violet eyes takes me in as though I am an absolute moron who cannot figure things out, but I refuse to feel embarrassed.

It seems like a pretty logical question to ask, because if they fly, why don't I see their wings? Also, it makes no sense that they would teleport because Angels are supposed to have wings... I guess.

"We fly. Why bother yourself with that knowledge?"

"Because I never see wings, nor do I see you hovering around mid-air then soaring the skies like a bird or something. You just disappear."

Sam barks out a laugh at my words and I cross my arms as I stare at him, a pout forming at my lips, but my expression only seems to serve him as a source of entertainment. He shakes his head as he finally sobers up, then he taps the space beside him on the bench and with a reluctant huff I oblige his silent request.

Sam turns slightly so he is facing me, and I cross my legs as I ready myself for a story that Sam doesn't totally seem eager to tell.

"Well, we do have wings, but your mortal eyes cannot see things beyond this realm. I can take a human form, but my wings are still divine and unless permitted by God, you cannot see divine creatures. Which is why you're incapable of seeing your Guardian Angels even though they follow you about all the time.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you see something like a distortion in reality or something of the sort." When I nod, he continues. "You don't see us hover and fly in the air because we're a lot faster than you creatures. I could circle this earth before you blink. I could fly to Heaven for a cookie and head back before you call out my name."

I nod because as always, he makes total sense.

"What's the colour of your wings?" I choose to ask him and he hums in thought for a moment.

"It's the colour of Heaven's gate under the radiant glow of Father's light. The brightest colours in the world. Your human eyes haven't ever seen it, so the closest would be silver with a tinge of gold. It's the most beautiful pair ever created." He smiles fondly, pride glowing in his eyes and I cannot help but mirror his expression.

I have never seen Sam look so proud of anything, so his wings must actually mean a huge deal to him. However, my smile drops when a thought comes to mind.

"How come you still have your wings, Sam?" I query. His smile drops and he raises a questioning brow at me. "I mean, the Fallen don't have wings, so how come you still do? How come you're still an Angel even though technically, you're a Fallen?"

"That's actually the smartest thing you've ever asked. Being around me is boosting your intellect." Sam beams at me and I spare him a small smile of appreciation for his semi-compliment. With Sam, I have to take what I can get.

His smile drops quickly and he furrows his brows as he hums in thought. He lifts a hand and runs his fingers through his hair, and much to my surprise, he isn't quick to provide a quirky answer. He doesn't seem to be thinking of the perfect way to phrase it either. No! For the first time ever, Sam looks like he is struggling to come up with an answer to my question.

Look who's outsmarted the Devil! I'm so proud of myself.

"I have no clue," he eventually admits with a shrug. Granted, I was the very first to be kicked out of Heaven, so the punishment most likely hadn't come His mind. Then again, it probably because no matter how bad everyone makes me out to me, God is stalling destroying me. I was His favourite creation once upon a time." He lets out a humourless laugh.

"What happened to the other Angels that fell after you? No one seems to talk about them anymore."

"Well, a lot became Demons. The rest who decided to live as humans were killed in the flood alongside the Nephilims. Some of the Demons also died. I can do a lot of things, but I cannot grant immortality. Shame!"

I hum in awe as my brain struggles to process all the new and fascinating information and he nods at me.

"If most of your Demons died in the flood, how come you still have so many? At least, I assume you do."

He grins at me and the light reflects off his sharper than normal canines, causing them to glint and making him look slightly more malicious.

"Why do you keep asking me questions about things that no one really wants to know? Do you plan on writing a book with all the information? I can assure you that it won't sell much as not a lot of people care for Angelic history. No. They just want sex and violence."

I sigh at his stubbornness, but he has a point though. Why exactly do I want to know as much as I can about celestials? How exactly is the history of the Devil going to help my spiritual journey? I already have the Bible... Then again, Sam claims it is very inaccurate and according to him, Angels lack the ability to tell lies.

Sam doesn't answer my previous question and I realize I don't have an answer to his either, so we sit in a comfortable silence and watch the butterflies perch around the blooming flowers while we wait for gym class to be over.

I use the silence to review Sam in my head. He has turned out to be completely different from what I had expected the Devil to be. Granted, he's somewhat manipulative, his anger is frightening, he's a tad bit narcissistic and does everything for his own selfish interest, he still makes for an entertaining company.

If not for his presence, I wouldn't know how to deal with all of the guilt and immense misery I have been facing. I think about Raphael's words. Sam isn't supposed to have my time, deal or no deal, yet here he is. After trying to decide what makes me so special, I decide he probably just misses actually hanging out with someone.

"Do you think Trixie was involved in Ben's death? She's close enough to him, and she doesn't seem to be sad that the person she claimed to love is dead," I muse aloud and Sam turns an inquiring gaze to me.

"The annoying kid? No. She doesn't have the brains to carry it off. All we can do now is wait for Asher Reid to provide us with a list. You should talk to him soonest," he advises.

"I don't know if he's ready to be spoken to." I blow out deeply through my mouth and slump my shoulder in disappointment. I really, really want to talk to Ash, but I'm afraid he's incredibly angry at me, and I have no idea to deal with it, thanks to my lack of people skills.

"May I be excused after school today? I want to help Mrs. Lina's husband with preparations for the funeral."

At my words, Sam lets out a short hum and turns away from me, his lips forming a thin line before he finally speaks.

"That won't be necessary as he has left the city. He had her cremated as soon as he could and went on his melancholic way to California."

My heart plummets into my stomach and I feel a new wave of anguish threaten to wash over me. My eyes start to water and I have to blink rapidly to hold my resolve.

"He couldn't have." I shake my head. "It's not fair! I don't get to say goodbye."

"Goodbye to what?" Sam turns to me to raise a questioning brow at me. "An empty, burned up body? Her soul has since departed this earth, so your goodbyes are rather useless. Well, you have some free time now, so we can –"

"We cannot do anything!" I snap at him despite knowing I stand the risk of angering him. I throw myself off the bench as I feel all the bottled-up emotions seeking an escape route.

"Don't you get it?" I make wild hand gestures to show him just how big of a deal this is to me. "Mrs. Lina was like a mother to me and I wasn't allowed the opportunity of saying goodbye to her before her husband tossed her into the flames and flew all the way to God knows where."

"California." His clipped response only adds to my anger and I am unable to stop the word vomit that rises.

"I don't care!" I shout as I tug at my hair, pulling it out of place. "Everything in my life is so messed up, yet I put on a smile everyday and pretend like all is well with the world. It's hard, okay? I've lost people. I've been losing people for as long as I can remember and you cannot simply expect me to pretend like it doesn't hurt. I loved her and she's gone! Do you know how that feels like? Of course, you don't!" I roll my eyes at him. "You don't love any-"

I am unable to complete the rant as I am yanked off the ground by a very livid Sam. His eyes blaze like they did a moment ago and I swallow hard to reel in my fear, but I doubt it's working. He smells like smoke and I find it intoxicating in a very bad way.

"Sam?" I try to plea but it falls on deaf ears.

"You compare me to a rebellious teenager who started a riot simply because he wanted to be free. You think you have it all figured out? You think you have Father all figured out? Do you ever stop for a moment to think about how I was punished? I was beaten up by my own family and tossed out of my home to mingle with the condemned souls that walk around thinking they're striving for salvation not knowing a whole lot don't even have a fighting chance.

"Everyday of my life, I have to deal with the cries of the damned and try as I might, I cannot go back to my home. More than half of my family don't even want to behold my face, so pardon me if I find your incessant complains exhausting. You asked me to help find the person who murdered your cousin, not be your emotional support, so before you open your mouth, understand that I don't necessarily care about whatever is going on around you."

"You're hurting me, Sam," I croak out, tears gathering in my eyes and falling freely down my face. Beneath the fear and the hurt his words cause me, I cannot help but feel stupid for expecting more from the Devil.

I feel stupid for thinking he cared about my emotions, but more than that, I feel stupid for not realizing that beneath his air of nonchalance, he also carries a heck load of pain. He simply masks the hurt and loneliness with wit and impassiveness.

Perhaps I am just a selfish and dim-witted human.

At my words, his Adam's apple bobs and I watch the flames in his eyes die down. He lets go of me and I stumble and almost fall, but he grips my arm, making sure I am steady. However, upon realizing he just assisted me, he pulls away from me and takes several steps backwards.

I stare at him with a tear-stained face, my fingers still slightly trembling as I try to decipher his conflicting actions. One second, he's hurting me, the next, he's helping me, then he's practically running away from me. It's almost as though he is afraid to show even the slightest form of humanity, vulnerability or genuine affection.

I also find myself feeling a whirlwind of emotions. I want to scream at him. I want to run as far from him as I can, but at the same time, I want to hug him and tell him that everything is going to be okay.

"Sam," I start and take a tentative step towards him, but he shakes his head and takes another step away from me.

"I hurt you," he states, his voice low. "I promised..."

"Sam," I try again, but a mist appears around him and before I can get a word out, he disappears from sight, leaving behind the usual gust of wind that sends sand flying all around.

~~~

Look at Sam showing a little emotion. well, he is one scary Devil, isn't he?

Remember to vote and comment, people.

I love every single one of you.