In Dutch we are called Engelen, Germans call us Engel, the French gave us the title of Anges, and the Latin speakers called us Angelus. And we keep to ourselves. For centuries, Humans have attempted to prove or disprove our existence. We do exist, but we never plan on telling them this.
We Angels are in a war. A war against the Abyss, a terrible substance made of evil thoughts and actions. As long as one Human has evil within him, or her, there will be Abyss. And as long as there is Abyss, there will be Angels fighting it. We are at eternal war, until it ends. Until we achieve Utopia, the everything and the nothing and the dream and nightmare of the Angels. But, we will never fight alone.

It was dawn. The first trickles of light coming up from over the skyline, and as flora and fauna awoke and began their day, so did the beings that were not seen, those who lived in the In-Between. Angels stretched and those who were Guardians began their happy work, while others continued their little tasks. Some Angels had the job of convincing flowers to open right up until the frost. Others would slow the wind and try and make life pleasurable for the people living there. The Angels, the caretakers of the world, did not fight nature but calmed her. One certain Guardian was charmingly hurrying along from the clouds above. There had been a particularly nice party that night, and she had gone to celebrate.
“Oh shoot, I may miss him waking up,” she said. Tumbling towards a house and going right through the wall as if she was nothing more than an illusion, she tumbled neatly on a round carpet and looked at the only other being in the room.
Sleeping peacefully, a teenager snoozed, his back turned to the curtained windows, avoiding the sun to sleep in. The Angel smiled and approached him. Gently, she touched his forehead and felt dreams pour into her fingers. She read the dreams carefully.
He had been standing before a large council, the Angel had been there testifying for him. He was confused, but had put his faith in the strange winged girl. Still watching the dream, the Angel smiled to herself. The boy had, in his dream, apparently received the gifts that the council had planned to bestow upon him. So far, Fate’s plan was working perfectly in their favour. As the boy stirred, the Angel pocketed parts of the dream, the parts with her in it, and returned the parts with the council. She took a step back and watched fondly as sunlight crept up the covers and tickled his raven-black hair. He groaned, hardly amused by the sun’s playfulness. He resisted for a moment longer, then kicked off the covers and started his day as he usually did. He tripped clumsily over the pillows that had been launched on the ground as he rested. Stumbling from his room and down the stairs, he sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, not seeing who was there.
“Good morning,” his mother greeted.
“More like good afternoon, Iah slept in so late,” Iah’s elder sister, Isis, teased.
“It’s true. And you were asleep so early, too,” added his younger sister, Cleo. Iah rolled his eyes at the three girls sitting across from him. Wait… three? He looked carefully. Isis, Cleo, and… Oh darn. Iah sprinted up the stairs at hyper speed.
“Iah’s just gotten into the stage where girls terrify him. Sorry, Cass,” his mother laughed, apologizing to the third girl.
“No problem. I didn’t know he wore such strange shorts, though,” Cassia giggled.
“He’s even got a pair that’s white with red hearts on them,” Cleo said. The girls at the table hooted uproariously.

Up in Iah’s room, he was trying to catch his breath. It appeared to be a world-class sprinter, and was difficult to chase. When he could breathe normally he started tugging on jeans and a t-shirt, his normal look, and tidied himself up. After combing his semi-unruly hair, he gave himself a good look in his full-length mirror. There he was, a boy with dark, Egyptian skin, black hair, and sharp green-grey eyes from his grandfather. He was definitely a different boy up in Canada, where everyone was paler because of the lack of sun. However, it seemed he was just destined to be a little different.
“You got that right!” a young female voice piped happily. Iah flicked his head towards the sound. He thought he saw a flash of bright yellow and dusky purple. He blinked, and the flash of gold and purple he saw became a silk scarf caught on his window. One of his sister’s. He opened the window and pulled the fabric in, looking out over the city where his home was built. He liked the city, the hustle and bustle and the activities and the all-around city feel. He jumped down the stairs again, taking them two at a time, and showed the scarf to Cleo. As she snatched it from him with a cry of “how on earth did this get there?” his mother set down plates with large stacks of French toast. They quickly sat down to tuck in, as Iah’s father ambled down the stairs.
“Good morning,” he greeted happily. “Oh, Miss Cassia is here again? Maybe you should just live here,” he joked, “it seems to please Iah.”
“Dad!” Iah protested, embarrassed, as the rest laughed.
“So, you feeling okay?” Cassia asked as soon as the laughter quieted and the others began discussing their day.
“Yeah. I feel better than ever, actually,” Iah replied.
“That’s good. I just wanted to see if you were okay when your mom invited me to breakfast. I can’t deny the French toast is good, though,” she added with a laugh.
“Hey, you saps, anything I have to drive you to today?” Isis cut in suddenly. Being seventeen, she was the chauffer for the family and their closest friends.
“Nothing,” they chanted at once. “But Kris may want a ride to the library,” Iah added. The teens giggled to each other. This was a ritual in the household. Iah and Cassia rarely needed to be driven anywhere, so they often pretended Kris had somewhere he needed to go. After a few confusing encounters involving dance lessons, cooking classes, and a picnic, Isis had figured out that they were joking. Since then, it had become a game.
“All right, I better get going. Track has an early practice,” Isis said, taking the car. She left the house, and soon Cleo, too, had to leave in order to arrive at her elementary school on time. Soon after, Iah and Cassia had left the house. As they strolled down the busy sidewalks out to the suburb where their school was, they began talking about whatever came to mind. Suddenly, Iah remembered something.
“Take a peak at this, Cass,” he said, pulling a dusky violet feather from his pocket, where he had slipped it earlier. “Touch it. It’s cold, and it’s been in my pocket this whole time,” he said. Slowly, Cassia reached out to touch it, and when her fingertips brushed the divinely soft feather she retracted as if burned.
“So cold! But why is it cold?” she asked, feeling a shiver go up her spine as a cool September wind blew past.
“I don’t know. And it’s been on my radiator all night. And, when I grabbed it this morning there was no fainting, like yesterday,” Iah said, remembering the light-headedness and following blackness from the previous day. He had been walking to the library with Cassia and Kris when he had seen a beautiful dusky purple feather caught in a tree. Feeling a compulsion to have the thing of beauty as his own, he had clambered along the well-groomed branches until he had the feather in his grasp. Upon reaching the ground, dizzy and slightly disoriented, he remembered the blackness.
“That was scary. And Kris and I had to drag you all the way home, too,” she said with mock-annoyance.
“I said sorry, right?” Iah asked with a chuckle. His sisters and father had regaled him with all the details during his time unconscious after he came to in the evening. There had been much exaggeration on Isis’s part as it was her nature to overuse hyperboles ad nauseum.
“Oh well, it’s over now,” Cassia said, relieved. She leaned into a vacant lot and plucked two pansies managing to take root in the flimsy soil. She placed one behind her ear and stopped.
“Hold still for a sec,” Cassia directed. She started to put the flower into Iah’s hair, knowing it would amuse him and distract him. He grinned and struck a pose.
“How do I look?” he asked, grinning a cheesy grin and adding a fake giggle to the end of the question.
“Like the Venus de Milo!” Cassia gushed mockingly. Iah stopped and raised an eyebrow.
“Armless?” he asked. Cassia punched his shoulder affectionately.
“Sure, armless,” she said. They started walking again, a little faster so they wouldn’t be late. Suddenly, a redhead pushed past them obnoxiously, snapping, “Watch it!” as she rushed by.
“A private school uniform?” Cassia pondered.
“Never mind her, there’s Kris!” Iah said happily, rushing towards his other best friend.
Unlike Iah with his Egyptian complexion, or Cassia with her gorgeous Latina skin, Kris was as pale as a blank canvas. He was also a tall, broad shouldered, almost foreboding boy with such long bangs that his dark brown hair was almost always obstructing his eyes and made it impossible to tell what colour they were. However, he broke into a grin when he saw Iah and Cassia approaching.
“Glad to see you’re back,” he said quietly. Kris understood the value of words, far better than any other yammering teenager, and chose them carefully. He spoke deliberately, never shredding words or beating around the shrub.  And when he spoke he did so in a voice just above a loud whisper, so that anyone who wanted to hear had to truly listen to understand his words. Of course, his serious ways in talking were completely balanced by his out-of-control expressions and exuberant hand motions. At this moment his hands were palms up, outstretched, and his eyes betrayed how elated he truly was.
“Good to be okay,” Iah said. He and Cassia, knowing the tall boy better than anyone, understood Kris would think that they had contracted some mysterious terminal disease until he saw they were all right. Without another word, Kris, Iah, and Cassia swept inside the high school.

Luna et Sol High was a small, public high school that was known for its good academic and athletic records, regularly placing second or third in a variety of competitions against much larger, better funded private schools. It was known for the competitors, its school spirit, and its unusual shape. The school was square, with large bulges coming out of the north and south ends, the gymnasium and the cafeteria, respectively. In the centre was a circular area with no ceiling where the garden club worked their magic and planted flowers, small trees, and put up benches and tables. The grade nines were stuck with the lockers on the walls around the garden, a mixed blessing until winter came around.

Iah was at his locker, grabbing his binder and textbook for his first class. Suddenly, he saw a small girl standing in among the flowers of the garden. She was small but evidently his age, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and strange dusky violet shapes behind her. The first bell rang, but Iah ignored it as the students began milling their way to their classes. The girl waved at him happily. Ignoring anyone who might’ve been watching, Iah approached the girl and suddenly understood something of her. It was as if something deep inside him had clicked. The inexplicable realisation this girl was important seemed to cause her to laugh.
“You’re very bright, Iah,” she laughed without opening her mouth. The high voice in his mind was exactly the same as the voice he had heard first thing in the morning.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Iah replied, speaking the most logical questions first.
“I’m someone who carefully watches you, though you’ve never seen me,” she said with a smile, never opening her mouth.
Frustrated, Iah threw up his hands. “What’s your name?” he demanded.
“Classified information.” She winked playfully. Her face, however, settled back to a serious expression. “Things are going to be very hard for you now. But I’ll be allowed to help pretty soon. Just hold on and do your best.” She turned away and started walking. Suddenly, she stopped.
  “I have to warn you, things are going to get much more difficult. Keep your friends close to you, you’ll need it.” And as suddenly as she appeared, she leapt up gracefully and disappeared. And Iah could swear he had seen a hint of dusky violet emerging from her back as she faded. He stood there, thinking he might be going crazy. Of course, before his mind had time to dwell on his potential insanity, he realised he would be late for class in thirty seconds. He started to run.

~~~~~~~
COMMERCIAL BREAK! (Didn’t think I would let a story that goes in episodes get away without commercials, did’ja?)

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Now back to our show!
~~~~~~~

Kris was chuckling. His chuckles were mostly low rumbles from the back of his throat and the bottom of his chest. He only chuckled like that when everyone else was restraining laughter. He was chuckling at Iah, so it seemed that everyone wanted to laugh at him. And who could blame him?
“Mister Cerny, next time please stay awake for my class,” scolded the teacher, sounding deeply annoyed.
“Yes, sir,” said the youth, annoyed at himself as well. It was after lunch, a time when all the teens and staff in the school were at their most awake. As it so happens, Iah was at his most exhausted. He wasn’t sure what it was. Once, Kris and Cassia had made up some theories as to why noon was when Iah wanted to nap the most. Maybe, Cassia had suggested, you’re really part vampire and dislike the sun. Or, Kris had decided, Iah could have some really bad jetlag. Not likely. Perhaps, both had said teasingly, Iah had been a cat in another life! All of them had a good laugh over that idea. Anyways, besides his green-grey eyes, he wasn’t feline at all.
He yawned slowly and turned to Kris. The smile on the corners of his lips was there just to mock him.
Of course, that fact was only halfway in his mind. Rather, he was thinking about his dream. It was a more vivid repeat of his last dream. This time he could remember the blonde girl—an Angel, maybe? —who had cheerfully declared he was going to be an excellent fighter.
“A fighter?” he had asked.
“Yes, a fighter for the most noble cause of all. Helping us Angels is a great calling. A big burden, but a worthy one of you and your friends,” she said. Her words seemed somewhat disconnected, as if she was only saying fragments of a larger speech. Actually, on closer examination, it was as if he had been watching a film but a prankster had chopped out pieces and glued the rest back up. But this time the girl had been in his dream, which was good enough for the time being.

“Wow, Iah. I knew you had a tendency to get sleepy at noon, but I’ve never seen anyone actually fall asleep at that time. Let alone in history,” Cassia said. She was half-grinning, half-worried, as she always was when something hilarious but unusual happened.
“I know. And it’s not like I had turkey or hot milk or anything like that,” Iah replied. The three were walking to the library again, slowly.
“And it’s not like you didn’t get enough sleep,” Kris said, going straight for the throat with his teasing.
“Oh, ouch! That really hurts!” Iah laughed. As they approached the library, Iah split off and began walking home. Cassia’s home was on the opposite side of the library, although surprisingly near Iah’s, and Kris didn’t go home until he absolutely had to.
“First math to wrap up, then some history penalty for sleeping, and those stupid English preps,” Iah mumbled, rattling off his list of homework. “Guess I’d better get moving, before Isis and Cleo panic.” He started jogging down the sidewalk. As he entered the, surprisingly clean and nice, townhouse region, he saw one of his neighbours at the end of the sidewalk. He had a stopwatch and was sitting at the door to Iah’s home. Accepting the challenge, Iah began to sprint. He saw the boy watching in awe at Iah’s speed. Actually, he did feel faster, more nimble, maybe stronger…
Suddenly, he felt as though a cement truck going at some ungodly speed had hit him. He was launched through the air, his arm had cracked sickeningly, and landed in a weak heap. He barely registered being picked up by a tall, dark figure before passing out. He could actually catch the sad humour in the fact he was falling asleep yet again.

Iah awoke to an excruciating pain in his left arm. He didn’t even try to look at his arm, almost afraid of the sight. Instead, he let his eyes wander languidly across the room. The walls were cinderblocks painted gym-white, the floor concrete. The limited lighting came from a single set of fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The last thing Iah saw was a man, tall, dark, hideous, (you know the type) entering the room through a metal door, also painted gym-white. Then his focus shifted to the animal sitting in the corner menacingly. It looked like a navy blue sabre-toothed tiger with a mane, black stripes, and it was considerably larger and uglier than any other big cat. The tall man went to the corner and placed a hand on the animal’s head. A thought inexplicably popped into Iah’s mind.
A Demon and his familiar. Although the though was not his own, he couldn’t help but think it right. As he remained slumped against the cinderblock wall the man simply looked at him for a while.
Don’t mention anything about your dreams, the little voice in his mind advised. No matter what he may do to you. He simply seeks power through the girl in your dreams. Won’t work, of course, but Demons are like that. They’ll try anything for power. Now the voice was starting to say frightening things. Feeling an awful chill, and at the same time an awful heat, the Demon neared the boy. The Demon looked straight down, looking at Iah as a maid might look at a bug. Simply a little annoyance, easily crushed and swept away.
“You,” the Demon said, “have been contacted by Angels via your subconscious. Tell me, what do you know?” he asked. His voice reminded Iah of someone who suffered from chronic laryngitis but still shouted his or her lungs out at pep rallies.
“Nothing,” Iah groaned.
“You’re lying. I can see it in your mind. So, you think sending him telepaths and saying it’ll be all right will help, huh? The Angels must be doing a really poor job to give you such a valuable case.” He directed most of his words to an unknown receiver.
The sabre-toothed thing growled in a sinister way.
“A poor job? That’s a laugh! I’ve managed to keep you at bay for how many years now? And you still have no idea where the door is!” A girl’s voice giggled and echoed in the small room. Suddenly, Iah saw an astonishingly short girl with bright blonde hair and dusky violet wings. She turned to Iah and winked one big blue eye. Then she turned back to the Demon and frowned.
“Well, the mighty four thousand year old Angel has decided to grace me with her presence. I’m amazed you still have such dark wings after so long,” the Demon mocked.
“Hey, I take my wings very seriously! And seeing as you’re only two centuries old, you should respect your senior,” she retorted. And her wings flared dangerously. Some of the feathers even brushed Iah’s face. They were divinely soft, but so cold. The Demon pulled back to avoid the feathers and dangerous strength of the girl. He created a flame in his hand, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. The Angel seemed relaxed; as if she knew this could not even touch her, let along harm her. Then the Demon turned to Iah and let the flame seer his skin.
Suddenly, Iah was seeing stars as he groaned in agony.
“Iah!” shouted the Angel, panicked. She turned to face him and the sabre-toothed creature leapt upon her. Claws dug into celestial flesh and teeth drew a clear substance unlike blood from her veins. However, she kicked it off with surprising strength and plucked a feather from her wings. As a teenager throws playing cards, so she threw the feather with brilliant accuracy and it embedded itself in the creature’s side.
With the monster temporarily immobilized, the Angel turned to the Demon and launched another feather. As it struck the Demon she chanted a strange, lyrical prayer. He collapsed to the ground, mumbling incoherently.
Iah felt the pain of the burns subside, and saw the girl gently reach out and touch the burns. A light began pouring from her palms, sweet and cool like stardust. He felt the burn going away, and relaxed. Already he felt himself slipping into sleep once again. But this time, he was truly exhausted. He had no strange dream this time.

As Iah slept in a hospital bed, police began examining the murder cases of his family. All four of them were killed around the same time. However, there seemed to be no murder weapon of any sorts. In fact, they appeared to have been slashed and bitten by an animal similar to a tiger, but much bigger. When Iah awoke, with his friends at his bedside, and he learned the news, he was devastated. It was a Demon’s revenge.

“I am sincerely sorry for what has happened, miss. But Fate knows best how to bring the Greatest’s plans to fruitation,” the small, blonde Angel said. She spoke to a tall, regal-looking woman with a darker, Egyptian complexion.
“I understand fully. But you must do your best to protect Iah now, for me. And, will I be able to…?” she let her question trail off, expecting a negative answer.
“Visit him?” the smaller Angel finished. “Once or twice, perhaps. But now we must trust his spirit and everything you’ve done for him to guide him. Bless him, watch him, and try to see where this plan is going.”
Iah’s mother looked down upon her crying son from the Havens.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. A wish, a hope, knowledge.