A half an hour later, Blaine was still up on stage, jamming out his own slow, harmonious tune, Save Me. The band had been ready, playing everything almost perfect, and so far, it had been a great success.

The lights were darkened to set the mood, with only one spotlight set on Katlinne. “Save me in my greatest time of need. Save me,” her sweet vocals during the song lit up the crowd. Some ladies down on the floor swayed their hips, and lighter flames rose into the air.

Blaine narrowed his eyes at another group of patrons coming in. The typical rocker bunch, a couple of guys with shiny piercings and tattoos layered up their bare arms like a sleeve. They filed in past the entrance, sliding past the crowd towards the front of the club. But there was one figure that stood out. A black leather jacket, long, black wavy hair, pale skin: there was no way it could be...

He caught the twang of a missed note he made and straightened his spine. Katlinne flicked her eyes to Blaine a moment, but he lowered his head and closed his eyes to focus on the song.

There was no way that could be Lyn, Blaine thought. He raised his head again; the familiar figure was sitting at the opposite end of a crowded table close to the stage. The character stared bright-eyed at the stage. Blaine knew that jacket, he knew that face.

“Lyn,” he whispered to himself.

Twang, came another missed note, this time the accident didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the band. Robert hollered across the stage, “Hey”, but Blaine had ignored him and prepared to sing the ending solo, as he normally did.

He cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone. “We're going to have a quick break.” The change made the entire band stop suddenly. “Be back in thirty.”

Blaine set his guitar on its stand, and dashed down the steps on to the floor.

“What the hell, Blaine?” Robert huffed loudly, but Blaine was already next to the familiar silhouette with his hands splayed out on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asked in irritation.

Lynsael turned; his excited look wavered as he caught the anger raging through the man's eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he pleaded. “I know you said I couldn't come, but I—“

“Damn right you know what I said.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Bullshit. You wanted to investigate Raz,” Blaine huffed, his eyes flicked to the stage and the band was gone.

“Who's this?” Katlinne's voice took Blaine off guard.

He turned to see Katlinne and the rest of the band standing next to them. “This is... my roomie,” he sighed.

“Oh, well, hell Blaine. Why can't you introduce us?” Katlinne stepped around to the opposite side of Lynsael and extended her hand. “I'm Katy.”

Lynsael took her hand in his, tipped his head, and said, “Lyn.”

“We don't have time for this.” Blaine trembled with anger as he seized Lynsael's arm. “He has to leave. How did you even get in here?”

“Why, is he underage?” Katlinne asked.

Yeah, underage, the thought swirled through Blaine's mind. It could be a reasonable explanation. Blaine tipped his head to look at the doorway, the doorman was nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell is the bouncer when you need him?” Blaine shook his head. “Never mind. It's time for you to leave, Lyn.” He forced Lynsael out of the chair by his sleeve.

“We got a show to do, Blaine.” Katlinne said, stomping her foot.

“I know. Just let me take him home.”

“What's the manager going to say?” Katlinne asked, but Blaine was already leading Lynsael towards the door. “You better fucken hurry up, then.”

Blaine moved past the hordes of people with Lynsael in his grasp.

“Blaine, please,” Lynsael whined as he stiffened his knees. “I just wanted to see you play.”

The protest caused Blaine to have to drag him the entire way. “Stop dragging your feet,” he said as he lead Lynsael out the door and onto the damp sidewalk.

“Let go,” Lynsael yowled as he yanked his arm away.

“H-how did you even get here?”

Lynsael lowered his head. “I got a ride.”

“Yo-you have no ID—“

“Oh... that's what the doorman wanted. When I told him I didn't have one, he said I couldn't get in.”

Blaine stilled. “You didn't...”

“I might have,” Lynsael whispered.

Blaine looked back at the club and spotted the bouncer walking through the club doors with a nasty black and blue bruise across his left eye.

“Shit,” Blaine spouted and grabbed hold of Lynsael's arm again. “Let's get out of here.” He sped his pace across the sidewalk, heading towards his car a few blocks away. “I can't believe you did that, Lyn. God...”

Hopefully, the doorman wouldn't know that his attacker had anything to do with Blaine. He'd be lucky to ever get into the club again after that.

A cool, light rain began to pour down, soaking Blaine and Lynsael as they made their way to the car. It tinkled off of car windshields next to them, and they splashed into puddles created by the heavier downpour earlier that night.

The car was just up ahead, and Blaine took his keys from his pocket and tapped the alarm button. The car's alarm system beeped and the headlights flashed. Another splash of water came from behind, followed by the sound of heavy boot stomps on the concrete.

“Where you guys going?” Raz's voice echoed out.

Blaine turned to the see the guitar player standing behind them, a curious look etched on his face.

“I'm taking him home, Raz,” Blaine answered. “I'll be right back.”

“That's a bummer. You're not going to let him see the show?”

“He shouldn't be out here, okay.” Blaine persisted.

“Really? Why's that?” Raz furrowed his brows as he stepped closer.

Blaine shook his head, irritation returned to tense his shoulders. He didn't need to give Raz a damn explanation.

Just as Blaine tried to find the words, Raz darted out and seized Lynsael by the arm. There was a blinding flash, and a horrid shockwave boomed against the quiet night air. Blaine's eyes widened. Raz stood in front of him with a full pair of black wings protruding from his back. The force had torn his shirt from around his back, leaving it shredded.

He spotted Lynsael; the black jacket hanging from his arms, and the familiar black wings blooming from his back.

“Rasiel,” Lynsael shrieked as he tried to escape the strong hold.

Raz yanked on Lynsael's arm, pulling him closer until he was trapped in Raz's embrace. “Thanks for noticing, but I do believe you already knew I was here. Am I right?”

“Let him go.” Blaine darted close. He swung his fist, pummeling Raz in the jaw.

The clash caused Raz to drop Lynsael. He held his jaw, tensing his muscles. “You shouldn't have done that.”

Blaine eyed Raz, ready to dodge any attack. But the pain came too quickly. As if Raz had moved faster than Blaine could track. He felt a fist ram his stomach. Another came barreling across his nose. The taste of blood infuriated Blaine as it dripped into his mouth.

“Stupid fucking human,” Raz said, continuing to punish Blaine for getting involved.

“Stop,” Lynsael's commanded in a frightened squeak. As the last painful smack dazed Blaine, he looked out towards Lynsael. The angel had grasped onto Raz's arm, stopping him from attacking.

“Don't hurt him, Rasiel. I'll do anything you want,” he whimpered.

Raz cupped Lynsael's chin in his hand, forcing him to look into his pitch black eyes. “I knew you had been freed of that statue. You're coming back with me,” he said.

“Damn it, Raz. I said let him go,” Blaine said, tasting his blood with every word spoken.

Raz laughed sharply. “What if I said no? Lyn, here, has a date with the devil. He's to serve a century of punishment for his deeds.”

“I don't care what he's done—”

“Ah, he hasn't told you everything, has he?”

“Told me what?” Blaine thought he'd heard it all already.

Raz grabbed hold of Lynsael's hair, and forced him to his knees to look out at Blaine. “Go on, tell him Lyn. Tell him why you got in trouble in the first place.”

Lynsael tried to lower his head, but Raz tightened his hold on him, forcing him to look straight at Blaine. “I-I,” Lynsael stuttered. “Interfered.”

“Lyn,” Blaine whispered, afraid of what was next.

“With your past. I knew I shouldn't,” Lynsael continued. “But I just had to make sure everything was right for you.”

Blaine furrowed his brows. “You mean, the bad luck was because of you?”

Lynsael nodded. “If I had known what would happen, I never would have messed with fate. But, I just couldn't stand to see you when you were sad, Blaine, so I changed things in your favor.”

“Until I was eight...” Blaine's voice hitched. He couldn't believe it. Lyn had lied to him about that when he'd asked before.

“And we all know that guardian's aren't supposed to mess with fate. Bla. Bla. Bla,” Raz spouted as he jerked on Lynsael's hair, making Lynsael yelp. “Ah, but I suppose that murder is a much more of a crime, isn't it Lyn?”

“Stop it,” Blaine hollered. “He doesn't deserve this.”

“Who are you to command me, human?” Raz's tone darkened. “Lynsael has perpetrated the ultimate sin. Because he was caught in the act, he murdered his accuser. And for what, your love?”

Blaine swallowed in hesitation, fear wrenching in his gut as he watched Raz pull Lynsael up to his feet. Couldn't he fight against Lynsael's persecution?

As Raz held Lynsael tight against him, a glowing pair of cuffs appeared to wrap around his wrists. Lynsael struggled, trying to push away, but Raz only laughed at his failed attempt. Their bodies began to disappear. Glowing particles raised into the air around them.

Blaine reached out, but the force surrounding them burned his skin, forcing him back.

“Lyn,” he hollered. “No.”

“So much for goodbyes,” Raz chuckled, as their figures disappeared.

Blaine clenched his fists and dashed inside the circle, for one last bid at trying to save Lynsael, but it was too late. He landed on his hands and knees on the wet concrete, water splashed into his face. The last few white particles disappeared around him. So close, damn it. If only he could grab for Lynsael earlier, but it wouldn't have made a difference.

He clenched his fists, and pounded them into the concrete. “Shit.” His heart thundered in his chest.

Lyn was gone; everything he'd known for the past week, for the past sixteen years, had fluttered away in that moment. His luck had changed when he'd lost his angel, and though Lynsael had denied it, Blaine's luck had gotten better while Lynsael was there.

Water rippled in the small puddle underneath him. His shadowed face peered back, his black eyeliner soaking down his cheeks. He hadn't felt the tears welling in his eyes until one dripped into the puddle. He finally realized that conscious feeling he'd had for Lynsael throughout the entire week. The words he'd wanted to say to Lynsael loosened from the tightness in his throat.

He picked himself up. What could he do now that Lyn was gone? There had to be a way to find him, to retrieve him, to hold him in his arms and whisper those words.

A crazy idea sprang into his thoughts. He dashed down the sidewalk, past his car, and to Schnooker's Place, the old bar just a couple of blocks away. Upstairs, he'd hoped Vince would be home, and not out partying like usual.

In the back alley, Blaine found the doorway leading up to the apartments. He yanked on the door, his hand slipping against the metal knob. Locked. He pressed the one of the faded buttons next to the door, hoping his intuition was right.

Nothing.

He pressed the buzzer again, letting his finger linger and was tempted to press them all, apartments one through five, just to get someone's attention. Finally, Vince's voice came from the speaker. “Who the fuck is it?”

“Vince. Hey, it's Blaine. Let me in.”

“Blaine?” Vince mumbled, sleepily. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I can't explain out here. Just let me in.”

“Hold on,” Vince grumbled, and Blaine heard the door unlock.

He threw open the door and took the stairs up, skipping steps by twos until he was on the second floor. Lights flickered in the old hallway; the wallpaper ripped and splashed in spray paint. Vince stood outside of his apartment with his hair tousled and a baggy pair of sweats.

Blaine stilled a moment. He hadn't expected to see Vince in bed already.

“You look like shit,” Vince said. “What the hell happened to you?” He led Blaine inside the small apartment and closed the door.

A dim lamp sat on the floor near an air bed in the corner of the efficiency apartment, barely doing its job. Blaine could hardly make out the shadow of Vince, moving ahead of him. His guitar sat leaned up against the wall, and dark, tattered blinds were pulled down to block the night outside. The room he had back at his parents had been ten times better than this dump.

“Having... issues. Look, this is going to sound weird; just don't question me, okay?” Blaine started and Vince nodded. “You remember back in high school when you tried to... resurrect the dead?”

Vince turned his back to Blaine, and folded his arms. “You've come to tease me about it again?”

“No, no! Listen. I need your help. Do you remember what you did, or the words you said?”

Vince took a couple of steps forward, and then turned to face Blaine. “Why?”

“I said don't ask. Do you remember?”

“Yes, okay. Of all the stupid things I retain through my life, it's gotta be that.”

“Good.” Blaine let a relieving breath escape his lungs. “Get dressed, you gotta do something for me.”

“What, now? Can't it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, it can't. I need your help, Vince, now!”

“Fine,” Vince huffed as he threw his hands into the air. He swiped something from the top of a chair. “I swear you...” his voice faltered as he slipped a t-shirt over his head, and stepped into a pair of slippers. “This better be good.” He walked to a dark corner of the room to retrieve something before going to the door.

They both dashed downstairs, Blaine taking the lead, and outside into the moist air. Vince faltered behind a moment, clearly realizing it had been raining. When Blaine looked back and waved at him, Vince finally caught up.

“So, what the hell? Didn't you guys have a gig to play tonight?” Vince asked.

“I-it's a long story,” Blaine huffed as he lead Vince to the area where Lynsael and Raz had disappeared.

Water splashed as they ran, and Blaine had found the spot close to his parked car. Or, at least, he knew it was around there somewhere. He stopped in his tracks and turned to Vince. In Vince's hand, he carried a small, hardback book with an old brown cover; a red ribbon hung out from its end.

“What's that?” Blaine asked.

“It's the book with all those resurrection spells. Good thing I kept it, huh? Because after all your damn teasing back in high school, I seriously thought of burning the thing.” Vince tapped the book on his palm. “So what are we doing then?”

“We're going to bring back the dead... or semi-dead, I guess.” Blaine took a step forward, searching the exact spot. “Here.” He pointed to the ground next to a rounded puddle of water.

“Are you serious, man?”

“Dead fucking serious. Now, open that thing up and let's get started.”

Vince rolled his eyes before he cleared his throat and opened the book. He flipped through the wrinkled pages until one of them caught his eyes. “All right. This might do it.” With that, he began to chant in a language that sounded slightly familiar.

As he continued, Blaine remembered back to the day that Lynsael had been hovered against the statue, humming those strange words. Something wasn't right. It felt too empty here. “Stop,” Blaine commanded. “This isn't going to work.”

“You think?” Vince asked with sarcasm in his voice.

What could he do? If he wanted Lynsael back, this was the only option, though he wasn't even sure if it would work in the first place. There had to be something more; something he was missing. He'd remembered those words inscribed on to the statue, the fact they were scratched and rewritten in Latin. “What language is that?” he asked.

“Hell if I know. Latin maybe.”

Blaine tapped his chin, searching for the answer, when he arrived at a curious thought. “I got another idea.” He turned towards his car and jumped across the curb. “Get in.”

“What?” Vince didn't have time to ask. He jumped into the passenger's side seat and Blaine revved the engine to take off down the road.

“Would you just tell me what's going on. Did somebody die, or something?”

“No. I...” Blaine swallowed. There wasn't a single explanation he could come up with. “Just don't ask okay, man? Seriously.”

Vince leaned his head into his hand. “Whatever.”