Of Angels and of Demons

Arsonist's Lullaby-Hozier

A/N: This isn't a fanfic of any sort, this is just a story idea I had, and I need to put it into words. Bear with me please.

I came home with the sketch pad my wife had requested. She had been talking to herself lately, and it worried me. She talked about an angel, one who was more beautiful than any being she'd ever met. What worried me most was, that out of the corner of my eye... I think I saw her. The angel.

I'm a therapist. I'm supposed to be reasonable. Angels aren't real. But when I came home, I saw her sitting with my wife. She was holding Cecile's hand, stroking it gently with a hand the color of polished ivory. I opened the door, startling the "angel". She looked at me only once before vanishing.

Something's wrong... Everything felt wrong. Cecile didn't stir as I inched closer. I reached for her hand, and instantly backed away. She wasn't breathing. I put my hand on the side of her throat. No pulse.

"Cecile? Are you awake? Cecile?" No reply. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. William appeared in the door way.

"Dad? Is mummy okay?" he asked in his sweet voice. God no, I thought.

"Go to your room, William. " I said flatly. He didn't move. "Now!" He scrambled back up the stairs. I grabbed Cecile's shoulders and shook her. No reaction at all. I shook her, screamed her name. Nothing. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks now, and my breath came in smothered sobs. I choked as I picked up the land line and called an ambulance.

Hours later, I sat in my house, a bottle of scotch dangling from my hand. The ambulance was gone. The policemen were gone. It was just me. William was with Cecile's sister. Our bed still smelled like her. Cecile... It was like laying next to her. I breathed in her perfume, which still permeated her side of the bed. It was like being slapped. She's still gone. You aren't helping yourself. You're only making it worse, Roger. I began drinking like a madman. It wasn't long before I was sick. My energy was gone. I don't remember laying in the floor... How'd I get here? I didn't care. I laid in my filth on the hard floor.

I felt myself being undressed. A warm wetness on my face, on my chest. More dragging.

"Oh, come now! You're a grown man! Can't you get yourself in bed?" a feminine voice said in my ear. It was one of the most heavenly voices I'd ever heard. I tried to be of some use, but my legs felt like rubber. My eyes fluttered open only for a moment before I snapped them shut. It's the angel...

"Am I going to die too? Do you take people when they die?" I slurred. She chuckled, and I swear I heard every bell in the world. The beauty of her voice made me want to cry.

"No love. Actually, I've made it my business to keep you alive. Sweet dreams." She pulled a blanket up over me, and began to run her hands through my hair. A gentle hum could be heard. Like a lullaby... I fell asleep almost instantly.

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Light streamed in through the windows, waking me slowly. I sat up, head pounding. The smell of bacon and eggs tickled my olfactory senses. Moving slowly, I grabbed my old bathrobe. My headache was pounding erratically.

Breakfast was on the table in the kitchen. I looked around in wonder. A cup of coffee and some toast... Whoever did this had thought of everything.

And it was still warm! The toast had butter, which melted on my tongue. The eggs were done just right. My coffee was just sweet enough. It was all so good, but my stomach rebelled. I veered away from the table to the sink and was sick.

"Sorry," I murmured. Hopefully the "angel" heard.

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"Jasmine? Are you in today? You are? Well, cancel my appointments, move them back, whatever. I can't work today. I'm just in no position to work today. Might as well move them back for tomorrow, too." I listened to his voice. I managed to get his breakfast done in time, and kept it warm as well. And then he went and threw it all up. I thought about his wife. Cecile, your husband is impossible when he's upset. What have you gotten me into? I almost wished I hadn't promised her anything. The son should be easier... Children are always easier.

"I don't care, Jazz, just do it. I'm not coming in today. Okay, I'll see you then." He dropped the little rectangle that I assumed was a telephone on the table. He looked around, and then straight at me. Please don't see me... Please... No... He didn't this time.

"Thanks for breakfast! And last night! I'm assuming that was you..." He said loudly, looking around the room for me. You're welcome...

"Talking to yourself again, Roger. You're completely mental." He went on rambling to himself. His phone rang. I walked over to it and looked at the little screen. It read William. Roger picked it up.

"Hello? I'm fine. Yes, Will. I'll be just fine. I'll see you when you get home. I love you too. Bye." He put the phone back down.

"That was William. He's worried about me. He's only seven, and he's worried about me," Roger said, looking around the room again. I began to get the feeling he was addressing me. I stood in front of him, close enough to feel his breath on my face. His breath smelled sour.

"I'm crazy aren't I? I see people like this everyday. They come to me for help..." His voice broke, and his eyes welled with tears. I wanted to hold him just then. He seemed so alone. He's got William... And you...

"How am I supposed to do this? I can't take care of William on my own... She did that! I can't do this without her!" Roger was sobbing now. Every inch of me wanted to reach out and wrap him in my arms. Hold him, calm him. Stroke his hair. I just didn't want to be inappropriate. After all, his wife had only died yesterday. Yes, revealing myself to him then would be extremely inappropriate.

"I should buck up. He'll be home soon. We made him move here for nothing, damn it all..." He rambled on. The Carltons had only been in the house for two months. Cecile had always been sick, with her smooth, bald head covered in usually a scarf, or a knit hat. She was beautiful, with a wonderful singing voice. She would sing and wash dishes, or play the piano. She seemed like a wonderful wife and mother. Little William would keep her in stitches, make her laugh... Their family was perfect, all of it except for her sickness. In her last few days, she could see me.

I stayed with her and talked with her. I think they could all see me. William talked to me a couple of times, but didn't really pay me any mind. I guess he thought I was one of Cecile's many doctors. Most doctors wear uniforms, though. Not night gowns. But I didn't mind. It was better he thought I was a doctor.

I stayed because Cecile was scared. She was afraid to die. I remember the paralyzing fear I had when I took my last breath. I wouldn't wish that fear on anyone. So I talked her through it. I assured her that it would all be fine, that she wouldn't hurt anymore. Before she took her last breath, she made me promise to take care of Roger and William. I couldn't refuse. I would've asked the same for Jamie if someone had given me the chance. I think I envied Cecile, only a little bit. She got to move on. I didn't. She died peacefully. I didn't. But I was happy for her. I didn't wish my death on anyone.

So I carried out my word. No harm would come to Roger or William. On my honor, I'd promised. On my honor. It's all I have left, love. Just let go.