"Alex?"

Damien is watching me intently, with the cautious look of someone approaching a skittish animal that might attack or flee at any moment.

"Are you alright?"

"He's wrong," I say, as firmly as I can. "He must be."

The mingled calls of countless birds sift and echo through the surrounding trees, filling our silence with their song.

"Tiago's never wrong," Damien says at last. "If he says you carry a part of Sakariel's soul, then it's true. Besides," he adds thoughtfully, "it makes sense."

"How?" I challenge, incredulous. "How does it possibly make sense?"

"The timing lines up. You were born around 1919, right? And Sakariel..." He glances away. "What you saw in the dream happened in 1912, Earth reckoning. It's not surprising it would take that long for a...a fragment of him to find a suitable home. Plus, if your soul was already a composite of human and Celestial, it would have been more easily damaged by the experience of your mortal death."

I shake my head. "Damien--it's impossible. I don't understand how these things work, but the chances..."

His voice turns harsh. "Fuck the chances!" He grips my arms below the shoulders and gives me a hard shake. "Listen to me. Chance has nothing to do with it. It's fate, and choice, damn it. For whatever reason, Sakariel's soul chose you!"

I feel sorry for him, but I have to make him understand. I shove him away and break free of his grasp.

"Look... You don't know anything about me. If you did, you'd understand that I'm the last guy a Celestial would want to join souls with. I'm nothing--worse than nothing. I'm not a good person."

"Why? By whose measure?" he challenges.

He asked for it.

"You know all the shit that's happened on Earth since I became a dream-eater? I was twenty years old when I died in 1939. It had been twenty years of hell--or so I thought--and all I wanted from death was an end. But instead I was given a new life, as a demon."

I can't look at him anymore, and turn away. A flock of brightly colored birds take flight and vanish again, like living gems hidden among the trees.

"You know what I did with that life? You think I stood up and fought in all the wars, or joined in all the struggles for freedom? Well I didn't. I slunk around in the shadows like a coward, selling myself in more ways than you know and clinging to the world's underbelly like a parasite. I'm...disgusting... I'm not your 'creature of light.' I'm not Sakariel. Please just let me go home and then forget about me. Please."

I don't know when I start to cry, but by the end of my little soliloquy I taste tears in the corners of my mouth and can barely see past the drops clinging to my lashes.

Scrubbing a hand across my eyes, I prepare myself to face his reaction, but when I turn to look, Damien's expression isn't what I expect.

It's worse.

I expect revulsion, but what I see is heartbreak.

He swallows hard and looks away, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks. "You're wrong," he says. "It's you who doesn't understand."

He walks off in the same direction as Tiago. After a moment, I follow him, confused and angry, but not quite stupid enough to get left behind in the middle of a Brazilian rainforest.

~xxx~

I follow Damien through the dense undergrowth to a village by the side of a river the color of mud. He speaks in Portuguese to a man who seems to be the village leader, and they come to some agreement.

We're shown to a communal space around a fire and offered food and drink. I'm not hungry, but I'm worried it might be rude to refuse, so I accept a plate of fruit, nuts, and what looks like stewed root vegetables. I don't recognize any of it, but the flavors are pleasant.

"We'll stay here until tomorrow morning," Damien tells me. "Teleporting is rough on the physical body, and it's best not to jump twice in one day."

I nod but say nothing.

"Alex...I..." He sighs. "I have some things I need to take care of, some people I need to speak with. I'm going back to the dead zone, but I want you to stay here for now. I'll be back later." He rises and leaves me on my own.

A few of the villagers speak a little English, like Tiago, and I offer whatever help I can give in exchange for their hospitality. They seem like good people, and though they laugh at my clumsy attempts at fishing and net-weaving, they're kind. Eventually, I'm sent off to help prepare food, which I gather is considered 'women's work,' but I don't mind.

Damien returns around nightfall.

I ask him to offer my services to the villagers, and he explains to them in Portuguese that I'm a kind of 'dream-healer' and can help anyone suffering from nightmares.

More than a few brighten at this news, and I'm a little depressed to see how many of them are children.

I spend the night living out a range of dark dreams, from the simple fears of the young to the remembered horrors of the aged. By the time dawn arrives, my physical body longs for the true rest of dreamless sleep, but my demon energy is sated.

I'm sitting by the fire when Damien joins me. My eyes are sliding shut with weariness, and he put his arm around me and invites me to lean against him. I'm too tired to resist.

"Alex," he says, "about what you said... You're wrong. Sakariel wouldn't have despised you. And you're not bad, or disgusting. You're selfless and beautiful, and you bring peace to others in whatever way you can. That is the definition of grace."

"Damien..." I'm so tired I can't fight any more. I don't even want to. "What do you want? I mean, let's say I am Sakariel. What the hell does that mean?"

He regards me somberly, and I get the feeling he's about to tell me something I don't want to hear.

"Sakariel was not an ordinary Celestial. He was a heavenly Key," he says. "His soul carried the ability to open doors to higher realms, beyond the reach of any but the most exalted. There lay powers of which even the most powerful among the Fallen could only dream."

He shifts, and I force myself to sit up and look at him.

"That was why he chose to lead a rebellion, to challenge Ashtoreth for the Throne. He was the only one who could, the only one who stood any chance of succeeding. He knew it wasn't much of a chance, even so, and that it meant his death if he should fail. In fact, he expected to."

I look up in surprise, and he gives me a grim smile.

"Did you imagine he didn't know? That I didn't know I would lose him? We both knew. We knew there was no coming back from what we sought. But he had to try. To tempt fate. And because I was bound to him first by duty, and then by love, I had no choice but to go along. I would have thrown myself on my sword for him, if he had asked."

His voice grows quiet, and he turns his face away so I can't see his expression.

"I was sworn to protect the Key at any cost, to keep it from the wrong hands. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with the one who carried it. But I did, and because of that, I failed."

He turns back and meets my eyes. His own are hard and bright beneath his dark brows, and the firelight plays over the hard angles of his face.

"Alex, if you are Sakariel, it doesn't make me happy. It makes me afraid. He always carried my fate in his hands. He was always the one who gave, and was ready to die. But I was the one who bore the pain of that selflessness. If you are him--if you now carry the Key--I swear that I will protect you, and I will do almost anything you ask. If you ask me to die for you, I'll die. But don't ask me to love you. Because that is the one thing I cannot do."

I don't know how to respond, or even where to start. "I don't want you to love me," I say. "I want you to leave me alone."

A smile quirks his lips. "It seems I lied. That is another thing I cannot do."

He stands.

"Come. We should be on our way. I can't take you home--wherever that may be--or leave you alone, but I can take you somewhere safe."

He sets off towards the jungle and the path back to the dead zone. Wearily, I rise and follow.

I don't really have a choice. Being left stranded in the Amazon is not my idea of fun, no matter how cool those survival shows make it look.

"Where are we going?" I ask when we reach the clearing, and hold out my hand with resignation.

He grasps it firmly in his. "Another plane of existence. If you carry part of Sakariel's soul, you should be able to adapt to the change in Realm without much trouble."

"And if not?" I ask, alarmed. I try to pull my hand away but he holds fast. "What if Tiago's wrong?"

"He's not wrong," Damien says, and the world dissolves.