Warning: Violence, Suicidal Triggers.

"What do you want to eat? I made some oatmeal with strawberries. It won't be too hard on your stomach."

"I can't... Not right now. Besides this dry bit of gingerbread, everything just makes me nauseous."

The girl looked up and smiled weakly. Her hair was a mess, and she was swimming in his flannel, but dark circles didn't dull her brown eyes one bit.

"Thank you, though." She walked over to where he stood and tiptoed to put a kiss on his cheek.

Michael smiled without turning around. He pulled the hem of his oil-stained white T-shirt up to wipe his face while continuing with the eggs. The sounds of her footsteps got further away until he couldn't hear them anymore.

After finishing with the pancakes, Michael set them on the table and sat down. He looked at all the food in front of him and sighed. He always made way too much, as Kye had said. He didn't eat, and Kye basically just smelled the food and ran straight to the bathroom, but Michael couldn't help himself. He didn't want her to go hungry later when he was busy outside.

The house was quiet. A little bit more than usual.

"Kye?"

Michael called, but no answer. He frowned and stood up. From the bathroom and bedroom to the back of the cabin, he searched everywhere. While running around, Michael felt every warding and tried to calm himself down. He had never gotten panicked easily, but since his power was gone, everything worried him. Everything made him fear the worst.

"Kye? Where are you?"

His voice started to break. He knew she didn't joke around like that. Kye was thoughtful. Besides, she didn't even have the energy for anything these days.

Michael tore through the small cabin from top to bottom, and, soon enough, there was no more place to search. He flopped down to the floor and panted. He felt fear creeping up inside, but he pressed it down.

Michael took a deep breath and pulled himself up. He ran to the electric fence that he had painstakingly put up around the land while calling her name like a madman. He manually checked each and every warding on the way. They were all in perfect condition. That meant Kye was still in here somewhere.

Michael ran through the wood. As he passed the big lake behind the cabin, he heard a big splash. Sprinting as fast as his human legs allowed, Michael got there just in time.

Something very similar to his flannel was floating in the middle of the lake.

Without wasting another second, Michael jumped in. His mind was blank. He needed to get there. Michael swam as fast as he could toward the piece of dark green fabric now slowly floating in the other direction.

Twenty-five feet away, he could see there was nothing attached to the shirt. Michael dove down and searched aimlessly, hoping to see something, anything that resembled a human.

He prayed not to see anything at all.

A strange-looking water plant was swaying back and forth in the murky water directly below him, so Michael swam down toward it. The closer he got, the clearer it became. The leaves were not leaves at all, but rather long, wavy strands of human hair. They looked almost jet black in the weak lighting underwater, but Michael knew their true color like the back of his hand.

He almost choked on water. Suppressing the urge to scream, Michael grabbed the girl under her arms and pulled her to the surface.

The first gasp of air was everything. Michael breathed in as much as he could before swimming back to shore with one arm. Carefully keeping Kye's head above the water, Michael swam until his feet could touch the sandy bottom. He dragged Kye out of the lake and laid her down gently on the wet soil.

Michael checked for her pulse before kneeling over her body and compressing her chest. Every thirty presses, he stopped to blow air into her mouth and continued doing so until all the water got out, but Kye didn't wake up.

"Kye...Please! I need you to wake up. I need you... You can do this..."

Michael slapped her face hard a few times while calling her name, pleading, but nothing happened. Kye's eyes were still closed. Her skin was cold and wrinkled.

Reaching for her neck with his shaking fingers, Michael realized there were no more pulses.

Her heart had stopped.

"No...No, no, no... You can't leave me, Kye... You promised you would stay with me... Wake up! Kye! Wake up! "

With the last stretch of logic, Michael straightened up and compressed her chest again. And again. He did so for an hour before falling to the side, balling up in a fetal position. He felt a powerful urge to cry, but no tear came out. No matter how much he tried. His heart hurt like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces or stuffed full of thorns. Nothing worked. Nothing would ever work or make sense anymore. The world had stopped. His dream was over.

He crawled to the girl's cold, lifeless body and snuggled up against it. Her familiar, intoxicating scent had become somewhat faint. Tracing his fingers on her curved stomach, Michael whispered, "I will never let you two be alone. Never."

.....................................................................

Strong winds howled like an endless song, giving the sunny morning an unusually dreadful vibe. The pines swayed back and forth in different directions, but they were resilient.

All the cabin's glass windows shook. Kye stretched and yawned under the thin blanket, watching every movement outside with a lazy expression. This morning would have been perfect if she didn't have to run to the bathroom every five seconds to urinate or vomit. She was miserable. Exhausted. Ached everywhere. Michael wished he could take away her symptoms, but all he could do was watch Kye bite another piece of gingerbread and chew it with all her might.

"What do you want to eat?" Michael stared at the numbers of the stove. They just changed again. "I made some oatmeal with strawberries. It won't be too hard on your...stomach."

Something didn't feel right, but for the life of him, he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"I can't... Not right now. Besides this dry bit of gingerbread, everything just makes me nauseous." Kye looked up and smiled weakly at him.

She looked beautiful in his dark green flannel shirt with her messy hair and dark circles under her eyes. Suddenly, Michael felt as if time was running out for them. He needed to be close. To touch her and know that she was real.

Putting the bowl of oatmeal down, he walked over and sat down next to Kye. Michael picked up a few strands of her hair and twirled them around his fingers.

"What are you thinking?" Kye turned to him, "You can tell me. You know... I was going to walk over there and personally thank you, but here you are."

She smiled and lifted the blanket while scooting over. The couch had been wide enough for both of them, but lately, her belly had become a real obstacle.

Michael lay down and put his arm under her neck. Kye adjusted her body to a comfortable position before resting her head on his chest.

"You know, I love to listen to your heartbeats. They are so fast, but they calm me down," Kye chuckled.

"I love everything about you," Michael responded simply.

His mind was racing hundreds of miles per hour in all directions and just couldn't seem to stop, but he wouldn't trade being right here, right now with anything in the world.

"What do you think about a boat sail and maybe BBQ later? We haven't done it in a while. I actually feel better, believe it or not, so we could mak—"

"No! Absolutely not!"

Michael sat up and glared at Kye. He didn't know why he got so angry, but something had told him that he needed to keep Kye as far away from any body of water as possible, at least for the day. At least until he could figure out what gave him this uneasy feeling.

Kye seemed hurt. " Why? Did I say something wrong?"

"No..." Michael exhaled, "You didn't say anything wrong... I'm sorry for reacting that way. I just think it's very windy today, and it may rain later. Your body can't take all that right now, so we can go to the lake another day. We can do BBQ later if you want."

He could see the sparkling emerald water that they usually loved through the back sliding door. It looked sinister.

Kye studied Michael for a while before moving her eyes away. "It's ok, I guess...I have to pee now. Again. Excuse me."

Racing to the bathroom hundreds of times a day was definitely not fun, but there was nothing Michael could do to help her with that. They didn't know when her due date was. They didn't know if this pregnancy was normal. All symptoms were magnified, making it extremely difficult for Kye. They couldn't go to a hospital either. All they could do was wait.

Michael watched her waddle away. He thought about the two of them, the haven they had, and what would come next. Last year had been a blur. Michael only knew they had somehow ended up here, and he needed to do everything in his ability to keep them safe.

His thoughts circled back to Kye when Michael realized she had been in the bathroom for an absurd amount of time. Nothing should have taken that long.

"Kye? Is everything ok?"

"Michael..."

He could hear the fear in her voice. Michael rushed to the bathroom, and right there in front of him, Kye was standing in a large puddle of blood. Her hands were covered in the bright red substance, and she was shaking uncontrollably. Her face had lost all colors. Her brown eyes widened in panic.

"Stay calm, I'll go get the truck!" That was all he could say before running out of the bathroom.

This situation made him hate his powerless self even more. Michael didn't know what to do. Every part of this mortal body felt slow and out of place.

Before he could reach the stairs, however, a loud thud made him stop dead in his tracks.

Michael ran back to the bathroom. Kye had fainted, and her head must have hit the bathtub. Blood flowed freely from her wound, staining the blinding white tiles.

All Michael could think of was how strange she looked in this sea of red. Kye seemed to get smaller and smaller as if the blood was swallowing her. Michael crouched down to check her pulse before picking her up and carrying her out to the front yard where he had parked the old blue truck.

Michael was in a daze. He put Kye in the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. The sun had been out full force. It was much warmer than earlier. The wind had also stopped. Michael buckled his own seat belt and turned on the engine. The old truck roared to life and headed to the main road.

The closest clinic was about twelve miles away. Michael kept looking at Kye. His eyes traveled back and forth between her pale face and her huge bump.

She looked worse than before. Her breaths were shallow and irregular. Gigantic beads of sweat covered her little forehead.

But At least she was still alive.

The fall was serious. They had never risked visiting a doctor before, but Michael knew this was different. Kye needed immediate help, or he would lose them both. He couldn't let that happen.

Something gnawed at Michael again. It seemed as if he had been driving around for hours. The scenery on two sides of the road had not changed much, and Michael was sure it had been more than thirty minutes. They should have arrived at the clinic by now, considering how fast he had been driving.

There were no other vehicles on the road. This was a rural area, but it didn't make sense that he had not seen even a tractor in the middle of the day.

Out of nowhere, dark clouds appeared on the horizon. Flashes of lightning struck across the sky, and strong winds blew. The weather reminded him of this morning, only worse. Michael pressed the gas pedal, but the old truck struggled to move.

He peeked at the clock again. 12:50 pm. That was the time they had left the cabin.

Things just didn't add up. The bad feeling in his chest got stronger than ever. Michael turned on the radio. All channels were statics.

Ahead of them, a thick fog slowly formed. Michael drove blindly, not being able to see a thing ahead or around the truck. Kye's breath suddenly hitched, and her body spasmed. After that, she went limp.

Michael knew immediately what that meant, but his heart refused to accept it. How could it when things were so perfect earlier?

"Kye, hey, Kye... Wake up. Open your eyes and look at me, please... Kye? "

He called her name like a broken record. He shook her. He reached over to check her pulse. Paralyzing pain slowly washed over. Michael wanted to scream, kick, kill something, or just curl up and disappear, but he could do none of that. Someone had dug a big hole in his chest with a spoon and stole his heart.

The fog still followed the truck like a parasite. Michael felt tired and utterly lost. He stroked Kye's face and unbuckled her seat belt.

"Come here..."

He pulled her toward him and let her head rest on his shoulder. The scent of her shampoo threw away the last bit of his senses, and Michael sobbed like a child. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he chuckled.

" Look at me, Kye. I'm crying. Like a human."

He lovingly caressed her belly before taking both hands off the wheel. Michael then put a kiss on Kye's head.

"Hang on, we're going home."

......................................................................

"...If we could take the time to lay it on the line

I could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine

All mine

So if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain

Or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold November rain..."

Kye looked out the window, watching the strong winds punish the pines. She was lost in her thoughts again. The song was very out of place on a sunny, beautiful morning, but it had always been her favorite. Her dad's, to be exact.

Kye said her dad used to play it on repeat while whistling along every time he was home. It was the only good song on the old cassette tape he had kept. Her parents used to dance to it all the time, too. How happy they had been until the War tore them apart. His crusade.

"You've burned the bacon!" Kye suddenly screamed, pulling Michael back to reality.

Woken up from the horrible images in his mind, he looked down and threw the pan to the side.

Michael exhaled and turned off the stove. "I'm sorry... I'll make some new ones."

"Don't worry about it," Kye smiled and walked toward him. "You know I can't even keep the food in these days. Besides this dry bit of gingerbread,..."

"...Everything just makes you nauseous." Michael looked at the half-eaten piece in Kye's hand, completing her sentence.

His blue eyes returned to her face, and Kye seemed thoroughly disturbed.

"Michael, what's wrong? Did you just read my thoughts? I thought you couldn't do it anymore."

"No, I can't." He dropped the spatula on the counter and walked toward her. "Somehow, I just know what you were going to say. Like...I have seen this before. All of this. You, me, this kitchen, many times. I don't know... My mind is just confused."

Michael avoided Kye's eyes and the questions in them. He didn't have any answer, not at the moment.

"Michael... You know whatever it is, you can tell me, right?" Kye grabbed his hand and held it to her chest. "I'm right here with you. We will go through everything together, as always."

Michael gazed at her with all the concern and affection in his heart before blinking them away.

"I know... Don't worry, I will keep you safe. Both of you. Believe me. I will keep us safe if it's the last thing that I do."

He touched her face and put a kiss on her forehead. Another on her lips. Michael lingered there for a while before letting go.

"You scare me a little. Don't say it like that." Kye put her hands on top of his. "But hey, I believe you. I just need to go lie down a little bit... Why don't you forget about breakfast and come with me? You've been busy all morning anyway when neither of us eats."

They both chuckled. It was a fact. Michael had gotten into cooking since Kye had shown him how. He could only do a few simple dishes, but it was still impressive and, quite frankly, comical to see. Kye would eat anything Michael put on the table as long as her stomach allowed, no matter how bad it was.

They walked together to the bedroom. Michael was behind Kye with his hand on her lower back.

As soon as they arrived, Kye threw herself on the bed and rearranged all the pillows. Michael leaned on the door frame and watched her.

"Don't just stand there!" Kye frowned and held out her hand. "Come here!"

Michael walked slowly to his side of the bed and sat down.

Kye grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him toward her. "What do you have in mind? Are you still bothered by whatever you said in the kitchen?" She locked her fingers with his.

"Yes... I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. I need to get ready."

"For what?"

"For whatever may come."

"We've been fine up until now, right? No one has come looking for us. You've been doing such a great job keeping us safe despite everything and we," Kye put Michael's hand on her belly. "We're both very thankful."

He could feel strong movements inside. It was a wonderful feeling that Michael could never describe or get enough of. It reminded him of how far they had come and what his priority was. He was the one who should be thankful.

Michael leaned down to kiss the bump before pressing his ear to it. The muffled rhythm of a small, fast heartbeat on top of a louder, calmer one got him soaked in bliss.

It didn't take long before Michael heard faint snores. Sweeping a few strands of hair out of Kye's forehead, he stood up and walked to the armchair next to their bed.

He sat down and watched. After a while, Michael's eyes started to feel heavy, too. It was still strange to him. Sleeping. Michael tried to fight it in vain.

He didn't know how long he slept, but when Michael woke up, the sun had changed its angle. The sounds of insects drowned out everything else. It was so hot. Michael sat up and rubbed his temples. His head was throbbing. Being mortal was not really fun.

He looked at the empty bed, and despite the migraine he was having, Michael pulled himself up.

"Kye, where are you?" He called out her name on his way to the living room and kitchen.

Kye was nowhere to be found. The howling wind outside heightened Michael's anxiety. She would never leave the cabin without telling him, so where did she go?

Walking around the corner, Michael was slammed against the wall by a mysterious force. His head made a chilling noise as it made contact with the stone surface.

If he still had his grace—that was the only thought running through Michael's mind. He wrestled his attacker, and they both fell to the floor, smashing the glass coffee table nearby. With some effort, Michael got a good grip and put his attacker into a chokehold. At least this vessel was capable.

Michael was thankful for the soldier who used to own this body. The man had been strong, agile, and very skillful in combat. It had been the best vessel Michael could find at the time. He didn't lack experience himself but also had never fought like this.

With nothing but brute force.

Michael counted the seconds and let go when his attacker passed out. He didn't want to kill this person just yet.

Tying the man to the sturdiest chair in the cabin, Michael brought out his toolbox. Most household items, gardening, or mechanical tools were surprisingly useful when fancy torture equipment was not available. One just had to get creative.

Michael stepped closer and slapped the man who was still unconscious a few times. "Hey, wake up. Let's talk."

He dragged another chair across the room loudly, savoring the sight. It had been a while. His attacker winced and immediately struggled with the tight rope when he opened his eyes.

"No need to waste your energy." Michael raised his hand. "We have all day. First, let's get acquainted."

Something similar to madness took over the man's face. "You can't kill me! They will come for you!"

"No one says anything about killing you." Michael wiped each tool slowly with an old dishrag. He then bent down to the man's eye level. "If you answer everything truthfully, who knows? You may live to see tomorrow... I'm actually looking forward to seeing them all anyway."

His blue eyes sparkled with a predatory focus. By now, Michael had known for a fact that Kye's disappearance was no coincidence. To find her, he needed to play the game.

So, for three hours, blood-curdling screams and curses broke out from the small cabin. The winds muffled them. No one lived close enough to hear them.

In the living room, the fireplace had gone out. Michael walked around the dining table while examining a collection of blood-stained tools. They lay next to the cold breakfast like a stark reminder. He was focused. This was what he did. Otherwise, he would crumble.

The human mumbled nonstop. Nothing sensible, really. Michael was in an entirely different world now, thinking about his soon-to-be-three family. It was what he had never dreamt of having. He might never have it if he didn't find her soon.

"We've been at it long enough, don't you think?" Michael looked up at the tied-up, bloodied man. "I don't mind, but I start to think you may not make it even if I decide to let you go right now. It would be a pity... I'm a little rusty. What if I accidentally use too much force on you? "

"Please! I told you everything! I don't know anything else, I swear! Please let me go!"

"Let you go before I get what I want? You must not know me." Michael shook his head.

He picked up a gut-hook skinner and admired its blade. The blood on it had become darkened. This human was tougher than he had thought. Could be the result of training, but everyone cracked sooner or later.

"You know, it's a shame that the angels could buy some of you out that easily. I almost feel bad. It is embarrassing, really. What did they promise you?" Michael asked.

The person's eyes changed in a split second. It was the fervent look of someone who had nothing to lose. His face contorted into an ugly mask.

"You are one of us now too, Michael. You forgot? They sent me here because they couldn't think less about you. You're just a nuisance to be gotten rid of. An abomination. You and your whore don't even know what's comin—"

A wrench across the face knocked most of his teeth out. Blood splattered up to the ceiling. Michael squeezed the wrench until he lost all feelings. Anger and impatience ate him up inside. Even when he wanted to keep this human alive a little longer, he might just have to end it here.

"I think we should circle back to the beginning one more time." Michael combed his blood-stained hand through his thick brown hair. "What do you like this time? Pick one." He gestured at the table. The person didn't answer, so Michael walked over and grabbed his hair. "Take a good look and tell me what you like."

Michael dragged the person to the table and pressed his face on it. He used to take pride in "the art". He had genuinely enjoyed the blood, gore, pain, and intimidation, but tonight, he felt none of that enjoyment. Time was running out.

The man whimpered and squirmed in Michael's hand, calling his attention. He felt disgusted touching this piece of filth, but he had to endure. "Tell me what I want to know, and all this will be over. I promise. Where is she?" Michael whispered to the person's ears while poking his swollen face with a utility blade.

"I don't know anything... I don't know where she is... I swear... They only told me to take you..."

Another scream as the curved blade dug into his jaw. Michael made a short, jagged cut upward and continued to whisper, "Take me to them? Hm. You didn't do a good job now, did you? And you're lying still. We both know you're lying. Think carefully and answer again before my knife finds your ear."

"I swear I don't know where she is!" The person wept. "I only came in after they took her ... Oh! Oh! I remember! One of them mentioned something about Alamo or Adamo. I don't know what it is! Please, just let me go!"

"Sounds plausible. Thank you."

The man wheezed as Michael slit his throat. It happened fast. Michael let go of the body and swept his hair out of his face. The cabin was a mess. He leaned back on the table and looked down at the stream of red liquid approaching his boots. Michael frowned and got out of the way.

A cough startles him. Michael whips his head around. All he can see is light. It fills his kitchen and temporarily blinds him.

Michael squints. The brilliant light shrinks and shrinks until it takes the form of a small, brown-haired man. The man smiled benevolently and spread his arms out toward Michael.

My son.

Michael's mouth gapes open.

It's been a long time.

Realization washes over him, and Michael runs to his Father and kneels in front of Him. There was hope. Finally.

Father, please help me! Help her! We need you! I need to find her!

His Father only shakes His head. He gestures at the floor, and Michael's eyes follow. His whole body shakes with realization.

Kye's neck folds over like a broken doll. Her clothes are soaked with blood. Her blood. Which stains both his hands.

Her brown eyes are wide open. A horrified expression is permanently etched on her once beautiful face. If Michael didn't know that face like the back of his hand, he couldn't recognize Kye under all the swelling, red, and purple. Her wavy brown hair is matted with sweat and blood. It seems as if she had screamed her lungs out just a few minutes before she died.

How is it possible? How?

Michael looks at his creator in utmost devastation. The pain is too much for him to wrap his mind around it.

Your eyes choose to see what they want to see. His Father finally answers. As well as your soul, heart, and mind. Michael, do you understand what happened?

I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. Father. I killed her.

The last cry breaks out of him. Michael jumps to his feet and grabs the nearest object. He swings the gleaming hatchet toward his hand.

It hurt her. It killed her. Michael needs to get rid of it.

The man next to him waves his hand and the hatchet along with the whole table flies across the room.

Michael, He comes forward and stands in front of His heartbroken son. None of these is real. The cabin, your life with her, your unborn child. They are not real. They are...Suggestions. Probabilities. They are tools to help you make the right decision.

I don't understand, Father.

You will. As you can see, sometimes, no matter what choice you make, it will only lead to one outcome.

I don't believe it...I'm sorry, Father, but I just can't. We were so happy. She was just next to me.

Believe what you want Michael. Fate decides. I'm just here to show you. However ... His Father looks at the devastated Michael and busts out laughing. Remember that nothing is set in stone. Even for you. Even for me.

What do you mean?

Michael avoids looking at the body. Even if it's not real, it feels that way to him.

His Father doesn't answer the question. He just smiles and wraps His arms around Michael. Warmth and certainty pour into him. The archangel feels elevated and renewed. Just like before.

In that moment, Michael knows he is home. Everything will be alright. Everything will return to the way it's supposed to be. Sparing dead Kye one last look, he closes his eyes and buries his face in his Father's shoulder.