Katerina was sleeping soundly wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms. She was tucked underneath the soft comfort of her sheets and the warmth of another body pressed against her. The sound of nosy footsteps woke Kate up from a slumber sleep. She blinked her eyes open and unwrapped herself from Andrew’s arms, her boyfriend seems not to notice her movements as he slept on.

Kate put on her flip-flops. She opened the door, adjusting her eyes promptly to the harsh light of the corridors. She stared out into angels dashing with their swords and guns in their hands. She went out of her room, asking the angels, “What is happening?”

The angel stated hurriedly, “Thomas Pitch escaped!”

If it was possible with her heart dropped into her stomach, it would have. She barely could register those words in her brain as she whirled on her feet, and grabbed her gun from her bedside desk. She glanced at her boyfriend, who still seemed deep asleep.

She didn’t feel like waking him up and she closed the door behind her softly. She dashed through the hallway, not as populated with angels running to their destination. She let her feet carry her down the stairs to follow suit with the angels, but as she came down the first level, she saw that the angels were bunched up at the elevator.

“No matter what we do, it’s not working!” exclaimed an angel with a much anxious look on his face.

The angels moved out of Kate’s way as she came forward, looking at the broken elevator. She pressed the buttons many times but to no avail, the elevator wouldn’t corporate. She sensed there was magic stopping its movement. She recognized this magic allure, making her feel frightened knowing whatever Pitch was doing, it was not good. The doors that opened to the elevators were not opening no matter how hard she pressed her fingers between the gap and tried to open them with all her might. She finally asked, “Is Michael down there?”

The angels nodded and some relief came over her, but not much. There had to be another way to get down the elevator. Michael certainly would’ve just left one option to get down the basement in case some urgent thing happened. She knew that he must’ve planned another way if this situation happened. “Anyone knows another way in?” grunted Kate in perplexion. She glanced at the angels standing with the same confused face, but she had determination and relentless crossing her face as she waited impatiently for an answer.

“I do,” Kate heard a soft reply behind her and she swirled around. She saw Sara walk toward them, her body strode with confidence as she went toward them, Nathan behind her.

Sara was awakened by footsteps quickening down the hallways and she tried to ignore the noises, but as seconds slipped, she sensed a small army in a panic pace and she flashed opened her tired eyes. She rolled over and saw she barely dozed off from her nightmare.

She scooted off her bed and grabbed a belt that held her sleuth and sword. She went to her door, put the belt on, and flung the door open, seeing the hallway empty. Just as she was about to dart towards the direction where the angels went, a stab of pain through her chest and back overwhelmed her. She stumbled down in surprise, looking down at her chest and the bruise that she saw just minutes ago appeared to have gotten bigger. Both of the bruises stung her, but she had to ignore the pain screaming inside her.

She stood up, leaning against the wall which supported her up and she started to dash, but the pain shoot right back up and she grunted. She fell to her knees, gritting her teeth. She breathed heavily as she begged her mind: Sal, please.

“Sara!” a man’s voice called over her and she half expect to see Sal, but when she turned her head, it was Nathan running her, and knelt next to her, “Are you okay?” He gingerly touched her shoulder as he looked into her fearful eyes.

Sara nodded for a second and then shook her head, ‘Help me up, Nathan.”

Nathan didn’t hesitate as he lifted her gently from her armpits, “What happened?”

Sara became dizzy and pressed her hands against Nathan’s chest for support, “I’m not feeling very well.”

Nathan looked down at her concernedly and saw a tip of bruising on her chest. He flickered away, trying not to see he was looking down at something else. He saw her pained expression and muttered softly to her, “I can heal you.”

Sara stared at him with wild eyes, “I would love that.”

Nathan felt her warm, minty breath prickle at his face and her cold body pressed against him, but he didn’t mind it. He batted the feeling his insides were melting down like hot lava spreading inside of him, “I’m going to put my hand on your chest,” warned Nathan and put his hand down, feeling the smoothness of her chest and the beginning of the soft tissue of her breast. He silently gulped down his heart racing and focused on healing her. He wrenched his hand away a little too fast from feeling uncontrollable lust. He saw the bruise go down a little.

Nathan frowned, “I didn’t heal you completely…” his voice trailed off in amazement. He was an extremely powerful creature, any Nephilim was and they could heal about any wound from another powerful creature, “Who the hell hurt you?”

Sara glistered her coal eyes at him, “Promise me you won’t tell my father any of this?”

“Sure,” said Nathan.

Sara demanded, her fingers slightly digging her nails in his chest, “Promise!”

“Yeah, I promise,” answered Nathan worriedly, still holding her up, his heart pounding in his chest, and he ignored the sharp pain from the nails. He saw Sara pull away, her silk hair bushing against him and he yearned for her touch again.

Sara felt the pain ease up a little, “I feel better, thanks.” This time she didn’t start to run, but go at a fast pace. “Do you know what’s happening?”

Nathan shook his head, catching up to her easily with his long strides. She didn’t tell him what happened with the bruising, but knew asking her about it probably wasn’t good timing since he came out of his room the same reason Sara did, “No.”

They walked down the glass staircase, seeing angels hurdled at the elevator in questioning. She heard Kate ask if there was another way to get down the basement. Sara answered, seeing angels eye her and made a path for her and Nathan to Kate, “I do.”

Kate seemed irritated that Sara knew this, but asked, “How?”

Sara passed the elevator to the right in the middle of an oil painting of snow-covered mountains. She yanked the sword of her sleuth. Some of the angels took steps back, wondering what she was going to do. She held her sword with two hands and slammed the blade against the floor, making some of the angels startled.

Kate was about to protest when a radiant heavenly golden light circled her. Sara said, “Nathan, Kate, come here.” Kate and Nathan didn’t question as they went to her side into a tight circle. The heavenly light raised above them in a warm glow and burst. Nathan, Sara, and Kate vanished into the basement.

They appeared in front of the desk...well, what was the desk. Kate gasped dubiously as she saw the ruins of the basement that was now barely noticeable as the underground, “What happened?” She saw the destruction of walls torn into pieces and some of the walls almost crumbled so much that they were almost dust.

Kate guessed whatever had happened, it happened seconds ago, because she could see the dust deeming down into the atmosphere. She heard the scuffling of feet and saw white sneakers, now looking like brown, stepping out of the dusting fog.

All eyes went up to Michael who stepped out of the dying fog and stared out at them. Michael's eyes bared down in a horrible stance. His face bore an almost a broken cry, as he helplessly looked to his angels, “How?” He was covered in dust head to toe as he kept walking towards them, his body slumped in horror. His eyes went to Nathan, then Kate’s, and finally fell to his daughter.

Sara had been standing at her spot, unsure what to do, but as her father looked at her, she took that as her cue and ran to him. She hugged her arms around him, “Dad!” Michael didn’t give her his usual comforting hug back, but ran his finger down her back, “Sara, sweetie.” He glanced at Kate and Nathan, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kate replied, walking to him, her gaze filled with disarray, “We heard the angels coming here.”

Michael gently pushed Sara away as he began to walk toward his angels, “Thomas Pitch escaped.” He lowered his head, clearly defeated with himself. He gave out a struggling sigh as he said, “I failed you. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. I just wanted to know how he escaped.” His eyes darted to Sara, “Sweetie, I need to talk to you about a few things,”

Sara’s eyes gave a bewilderment look. What would her father want to talk to her about that was this urgent after Pitch just escaped? “Um, sure?” She slide her sword back into the sleuth that was dangling at her side.

Michael grasped her hand as to lead her out of the basement, but someone called out: “Timothy is hurt! Michael!” The Archangel drew away from his daughter and rapidity walked over to the voice with Sara, behind him; Kate and Nathan hurrying to catch up.

As they neared closer, Timothy was sitting pressed against the wall, his breaths swallowing as he looked at them, his face had tiny cuts and his body shuddered with pain, “Timothy,” said Michael worriedly as he knelt to the young warlock, his back stiffing with pain and jaw clenched with abominable discomfort.

Timothy sniffed out snout as tears ran down his face, “I’m so sorry, Michael. Pitch, he was there, and then the next thing the glass wall exploded and I—”

Michael put his finger to Timothy's quivering lips, “Timothy, it’s not your fault.”

Timothy stared at Michael incredulously, “It is my fault! I was supposed to watch him and he got out on my watch! You trusted me!” He answered, almost yelling at Michael, but his tone angered at himself.

Michael shook his head and tenderly placed his hand on Timothy’s sweating head. A heavenly glow came from his hand as the healing process slowly started to knit the warlock’s skin, broken bones, and torn muscles, “Let me help you get up.” He helped Timothy stand on his feet as the warlock tried to recollect himself.

Timothy gazed at Michael with a heartbroken look, “Why did you trust me?” He saw all the angels looking at him, “I failed you.”

Michael touched Timothy’s shoulder in consolation, “No, I did. This has nothing to do with you. This isn’t your fault. I underestimated Pitch again.” He sighed as he thought of what was going to lay ahead, “And he stole the sword.” He bowed his head down to everyone in the room, standing back up again, facing his body to his angels, “We are now living on a pray in hoping Thomas Pitch doesn’t do what I am thinking he will do.”

“And what’s that?” inquired Kate with a look of uncertainty at her leader.

Michael stared at them and answered with disorientation, “Cause destruction along his wake… and to try to kill me.”

Once Kate saw the sword had been stolen away, she knew this was coming. Kate took a step forward, holding Michael’s sturdy hands with a warm, reassurance look. She motioned her arms out to the angels and Sara, Nathan, and Timothy, “What differences does it make if you face this alone? We have each other.” She smiled brightly.

Timothy gave a baffled look, “To kill Michael?”

“What do you mean by that?” puzzled Nathan.

Sara went next to her father’s side, clinging to his side like she did when she was five coming to Pitch’s prison. She whispered as she glanced up at her father, “The sword is a prized possession because it is one of the most feared by Michael and Lucifer.” She squeezed her father’s arm, Michael letting go of Kate’s hands, “Whoever has the sword, can kill Michael and Lucifer with it.”

“Well, I knew that,” said Nathan.

Timothy replied, “Me too. I just couldn’t believe that Pitch would pull a stunt like that.”

Kate opened her mouth in realization, as she dropped her arms to her side, “Pitch wanted to be taken because he wanted the sword.”

“That’s why he made his presence noticed at the bank,” concluded Timothy, a shocking expression spread across his face.

The apprehension of realizing why Pitch gave his presence known and the reason he did all this, was to get the sword; everybody in the once the most magical, warranted underground basement—which was now complete destruction—looked at each other as if one of them could spurt a magical solution to this dishevel.

Michael raised his chin and waved his hand as if to clear away the ugly silence that clung in the air. He would not let this defeat his heroes so easily, “Katerina is right. We have each other. We will work this out, no matter how hard it gets.” He chuckled with a shake of his head, “But we will need to be doing some praying.”

Kate beamed as Michael praised her for her words and nodded back to the angels. She knew, however, that this was barely the beginning of whatever Pitch had planned. Her hands moved before her mind as she grabbed Michael’s hand, lacing his fingers around hers, and raised their hands, “We got to hold on to what we got. We will stop Pitch, do not doubt Michael. I know this is a frightening time, but let us pray and hold our heads high.”

The angels clapped their hands and some gave a more cheerful appearance.

Sara expanded a slight smile as she heard Kate’s statement, taking her father’s hand and flung her arm up, nearly yanking Michael’s arm off his shoulder.

Michael beamed proudly at Kate and kissed on top of his daughter’s head. The frightening darkness that enclosed him was lightening up as he heard the encouraging words. He knew that he didn’t have to walk alone in this fearful time...but also knew that this was his fault that this happened. However, he wouldn’t let this upsetting occasion bring him down. He would end Pitch for good and learn from this.

“No matter what happens from now on,” said Michael, grasping the two girl’s hands steadily, “no matter how much Pitch is a threat right now, we will make it, I swear. We got this.” He nodded affirmatively to his angels and heroes, hope sparkling in his soul.

***

Michael stepped inside his office, closing the door with a soft bang. He sat down on his smooth leather chair. He patted down on his lap, nodding to Sara, “Come.”

Sara was hugging her arm to her side and came to her father, asking softly, “Am I in trouble?” Her black hair spilled over her face as she walked to him. Her eyes gave a glossy look as she wondered why she was called in. She unhooked. She sat down on his lap, brushing her cheek against his as she let him wrap his arms lovingly around her, Michael nearly holding her in his arms. Her sword, which was held by her sleuth--connected to the belt, hanged by her hips.

Michael’s daughter inhaled a deep sigh, her cheekbones enhancing her sharp figure. She placed her head on his, letting her creamy legs draped over the armchair, and her back pressed against the other armchair. She gazed at him as he stared down at her bruise, “Sweetie,” he traced his finger on her bruise, making her flinch, “What happened?” He was trying to pacify his mind of Pitch escaping.

Sara was too exhausted to muster a dodge to the question, “Sal.” She clutched at her father’s arm, “It was a nightmare and he pretended to be like you and stabbed me.” She buried her face in his chest as she started to weep, “Father. I know you think I’m insane, but I’m not, I swear!”

Michael felt spots of wetness go down on his white cotton shirt, feeling the hotness of her cheeks as they pinked when Sara cried. He delicately stroked her hair as he whispered back, “Sara. You aren’t insane.” He kept looking down at the bruising and his mind wondered if she hurt herself internally, but that wasn’t his daughter. Sara was a lot of things and wanted attention from him from time to time, but this wasn’t how she would seek attention or even lie about it. “Is there anything I can do?” Pitch and Sara were to complete different matters of stress for Michael. Michael wanted Pitch dead, while he wanted Sara healthy and happy as Heaven itself.

Sara wiped her nose on his shirt, which Michael could care less, “No, I just want this to go away.” She burst into harder tears, “No! Dad, it’s none of your concern!” She tried to pull away from her, but Michael held her still, grasping his arm around her back, making her wince.

Sara looked away from her father, not trying to seem weak, “I have a bruise on my back too.”

“Can I look at it?”

Sara folded her arms with a frown on her face, “I guess.”

Michael lifted the back of her shirt, seeing a deep blue and purple on the left upper side of her back. He saw the sharp spine and let the shirt drop as he placed his arm around her again. He gave her a stern, serious look as he said, “You aren’t hurting yourself?”

Sara dropped her eyes to the floor, “Dad, you think I could reach my hands there?”

Michael raised his eyebrows, waiting for her response.

“No, of course not!” Sara huffed, some of her hair blowing away from her face, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Sara,” warned Michael, “This is important. Look at yourself. You are paler than a vampire, looked like most of your blood had been sucked out of you already, and if weren’t part demon and angel, you would be dead by now.”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be your daughter!” She shout back, her eyes flashing red with anger as she snapped her glare to the floor, her heart feeling like it was ripped out of her chest as those words hung in the air. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

The Archangel sifted his look from a loving gaze to trying not to look hurt, “Sara, you’re tired. Pitch is out, this is scary. We all are impoverished." He placed his hand on her chest, letting the bruise heal from the chest to the back, “You said that he stabbed you?”

Sara gritted down her teeth as she hugged herself tighter, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Sara,” sighed Michael.

“I don’t!” She felt herself shudder and held herself together from not crying again. She changed the subject, “What did you want to talk about anyway?”

Michael was getting a headache with his daughter; but didn’t know how to keep reflecting on what was happening with Sara. But Pitch escaping was a demanding process in which he needed questions answered sooner rather than later for he didn’t want to waste anymore precious time, “Sara. Did you help Pitch escape the first time?”

Sara jerked her eyes up to him in revelation, “Help Pitch? Father, why did you think I would do such?”

Michael clasped his daughter in his arms, “What you said during that video I had to look more closely at. Everyone that met Pitch during those three days is a suspect, including you.”

Sara bowed her down, “I understand. I don’t know. I wouldn’t have helped him, or I would’ve told you by guilt, you know I would’ve.”

“How about the time you were in the forest unconscious?”

Sara shrugged, “I think I was playing in the forest.”

Michael replied, “You said beforehand that you went to see the sword and the weapon scared you and you went running off.” He noted that he didn’t sense her lying to him at all when she had mentioned that.

Sara glanced up thinking, “Oh...I don’t remember any of that. I just remember, darkness.”

Michael bite down on his lips and asked, “When you try to remember what happened that night, do you get a headache?”

Sara flickered her eyes at him, “Yes, how did you know?”

Michael groaned and rubbed his temple, “I was afraid to hear that.”

“Why”

“Because, that means someone replaced your memories,” he shook his head, “And that is not good.”

“Maybe the incident hitting my head and every time I try to think of that, I get a headache?” suggested Sara.

“That’s not how it works.”

Sara stared at her father with wide eyes, “You don’t think I would’ve let him escape. Dad, if I was that stupid, I am so sorry,” she stated. Even though her brain kept denying that she would do such a thing, her heart and soul knew that part of her would. That was like her to do something like that. And her asking for a second chance for Pitch...it seemed to click perfectly as her being the suspect. “Are you assuming he erased my memories?”

Michael swayed his head with a frown, “I don’t know honey. But, that’s not what I would’ve liked to hear.” He felt like he should’ve been angered at Sara for this, but these were all observations he was making without any evidence. But her not remembering anything and being at the forest that day...and saying those things about giving Pitch a second chance, was making some lead way more than anything else he had.

Couldn’t have been possible for Lucifer to use a shapeshifter when he gave Pitch to me that day? That it wasn’t the real Pitch? Then, of course, that would mean Lucifer and Pitch would be working together, and Pitch, which Michael assumed, failed to save their sister.

His mind started to daunt maybe this was the reason he hated Pitch now. Because he failed to save her. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought of that and clutched at his daughter. He smelled the wonderful natural scent of coconut and lavender from her but sensed something off from her.

He saw her eyes glistered as she responded, “Dad, you should throw me in jail! I could’ve been the one to let Pitch out!”

Michael hushed, ‘Sara, don’t say that.” He was surprised at how calm he was to learn of this news, but he couldn’t be mad at her. Who could’ve been at her in that state she looked, fragile and delicate, and looking at him with such innocence?

Even though Michael wanted to dismiss what came to him of Sara helping Pitch out and then the warlock erasing her memories, he couldn’t. He did feel frustrated nevertheless, “Sara, honey, if this is true…” which he hoped it wasn’t, “I am going to have to work to pry at your memories. I will need the Seers' help for this.”

Sara nodded understandably, “Yes. That’s fine.”

Michael couldn’t believe he was convincing himself of this awful idea, but it felt now like a concrete fact that was laid out of him like a golden ticket, “Alright then.” He said with a sigh and Sara slid off of him. She stood up and dizziness hit her like an unexpected storm. She collapsed, Michael reaching her in time to catch her. Sara's eyes fluttered as darkness came to her. Michael’s heart plummeted down in his chest as he saw that she somehow looked even deadly paler than she had seconds ago. It looked like she had lost gallons of blood.

Michael didn’t have time to interrogate her as he glanced frantically at her harsh breathing. A lump came up in his throat as he wanted to start crying. This wasn’t fucking fair.

It took me this long to get her. His hands shook as he held her tight close to his heart, feeling his heart punching at his chest. I worked this hard. I am not going to lose her. The Archangel let a sob escape his mouth as he glanced up to the ceiling, imagining seeing the heavens. He prayed with a heartbroken plea, feeling her silky hair bush against his skin lightly and her cold body pressing his muscular body: Father, please. He let another sob escape from him, Lucifer had our sister, let me have Sara.