As he walked through the moonlit Woodlands, unbothered by the late-night temperature drop, Michael was on a mission to find the fairy.

There were three things his dream—memory—had revealed. First, someone had tried to kill him when his search for Gabriel had brought him to the Woodlands a year ago. Second, he and the fairy had met long before she threatened to shoot him with an arrow all those weeks ago. Third, the red cloak in his wardrobe—the one stained with his blood and he was so haunted by he kept it hidden, yet was too intrigued by its mysterious presence that he could not burn nor throw it away—belonged to her.

Had she saved him? He could not remember anything before nor past that moment, and if that night alone was as far as their interaction went. Did she know he was that same wolf? Was he around long enough to shift to his human form? If so, why had she not said anything? Why could he not remember her?

Until he received answers to all of his questions, Michael was not going to leave the Woodlands. As soon as he found her—or, rather, she found him—he would demand the truth.

Only, she did not come.

He had been wandering long enough for her to be alerted, but there was no sign of her anywhere. No signs of the invisible shield she liked to hide behind, nor the familiar sound of her soft footfalls. He heard only the crunch of his own heavy footsteps as he trekked through the snowy grounds, and saw only the puffs of smoke his every exhale pushed into the air.

Not letting the fairy's lack of appearance deter him, Michael kept walking, his feet navigating through unfamiliar paths as if they knew exactly where to lead him. Determination to find the fairy prevented him from fearing getting lost, and it was that very determination that eventually led him to the oak tree he had come across a few days prior.

Michael walked up to it, and just like before, looked at the four names carved into it. He reached up and trailed his fingers over the letters etched into the rough bark until it hit him. The tree and those four names were the only proof—apart from the fairy—that the Woodlands had once been a home to an entire race of people.

Out of all of the trips he made, he never once came across a house, an article of lost clothing, or anything that would have proven the Woodlands had actually been inhabited for a century. But he was certain that once upon a time, the wind probably carried a little Fae's laughter as it weaved in and out of the trees, and the houses, whether they stood tall or small, were probably magnificent and a glorious sight to behold.

Had the Fae purposely left the Woodlands barren in order to leave it without a trace of their existence? Had they disguised or destroyed their homes? If so, why had the fairy been left behind, where did she live, and how had she survived this long? But, most importantly, was this desolation what his people had caused?

He pulled his hand away from the tree as he suddenly felt ashamed to even touch it.

Whoever those four names belonged to, he had no right to taint the only lingering memory of them left in this world.

Just as Michael turned to walk, a slight breeze blew past him, and he swore it carried a chirp in its cold grip. It was so faint he thought he imagined it at first, but then he heard it again and knew it was the bird.

Within seconds, he was off, following the chirps until they led him to a clearing in the woods—one frighteningly similar to the clearing from his year-long nightmare with the hooded figure and howling wolf. But there was no time to dwell on the similarity because his attention was immediately pulled to its center where he saw something that instantly turned his blood cold—the fairy, unconscious and laying on the cold snowy ground.

He ran over, got down on the ground next to her and began to look her over. The rise and fall of her chest showed she was breathing, but it was shallow. There were no signs of injury, thus, nothing to explain what happened or why she was in such a state.

"Little fairy?"

He shook her gently, but he fairy did not respond to his call, and only continued to lay there unresponsive.

His heart began to beat faster, and he felt a flutter in the pit of his stomach.

Was this a result of taking her light days ago? Had it weakened her to the point of passing out?

He looked at the bird. It stood next to her head, gently pecking at it as if it was trying to wake her up. When its attempts proved futile, it looked up at him and chirped.

Michael knew right away it wanted him to do something.

He took her face in his hands. She was cold to the touch, and his body reacted by rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks to provide even the slightest bit of warmth. Something for her to hold onto. Something to bring her back from whatever depths of darkness she was lost in.

In that moment, he did not care about the answers he came there for. He cared only to save the girl who promised not to be afraid of him if he promised not to be afraid of her. The girl he suddenly knew with absolute certainty must have saved him despite him being her enemy. The girl he suddenly felt a confusingly strong urge to protect.

Because this was not how it was supposed to end for her—she was supposed to be reunited with her people, and live her happily ever after. He had promised to get her out of this cruel and cold world. This could not be where it ended.

His eyes darted back and forth between her face and her chest, afraid the moment might come when she ceased breathing altogether.

"Come on, little fairy. Open your eyes. Wake up. I promised to get you home. Do not let me fail to keep it."

He continued to plead for what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been a few minutes that passed before her eyes slowly fluttered open. The first thing they focused on was him as he hovered over her. When their eyes met, she lifted her hand and placed it on top of one of his, which still cupped her cheek. Warmth spread from underneath her touch, then down to his chest and throughout the rest of his body.

As he stared at his reflection in her brown eyes, relief washed over him. But there was also something else. Something that made him too afraid to even acknowledge its presence.

But that something did not care about Michael's fears or comfort, nor was it going to stand idly by and be ignored. It took hold of him, chased the warmth she had ignited inside of him and invaded every part of his mind and body, leaving devastation in the form of desire and need in its wake.

With it in control, it made him yearn for just a moment. A moment where he was not a wolf and she was not a fairy. A moment where they were just two creatures, existing in the same world, and, quite literally, breathing the same air.

Just a moment.

Just one.

"Forgive me, little fairy."

He looked down at her mouth, and the full lips that were parted ever so slightly. He should not have, but he leaned in closer and closed his eyes just as he pressed his lips against hers.

Just a moment.

Just one.

A/N: Ya'll might be happy now... but I've always said I make no promises of happy endings. With that being said, ya'll ready?  ;)