The Styles Brothers

Chapter Twenty Six: James

Elena's POV

I knew I was dreaming. My brain subconsciously tensed, waiting for the nightmare that always resurfaced in sleep.

The nightmare about Serra.

But oddly enough, my mind remained dark. I waited, anxiously, for the arrival of anguish, the tears and screams that came with the reoccurring memories. They never did.

Instead, out of the darkness of my mind, a light flickered. Then, it burst into blinding white like a butterfly taking off, expanding into every corner until I was enveloped with the light.

I could barely make out two figures standing amidst the ebony surroundings. As if through a mist, I saw her standing there.

Serra.

Only this time, she wasn't in suffering or agony. She was not vengeful about her death. The look on her young, fresh face was innocent and peaceful. I soaked in her appearance, a refreshing change from what I was used to.

"Serra?" I tried to call out to her, but my voice was gone. How hard I tried to coax a sound from my silent throat, I couldn't measure. I felt the silence was what Serra wanted.

Her slender arm was away from her body, tiny hand held in someone else's.

James. He looked, well, beautiful. He was smiling and his eyes were as green as emeralds, not a hint of red anywhere. The dimples in his cheeks clearly showed, as if the grin he wore had never left.

I tried to move towards the pair but my feet were stuck. I was growing frustrated: unable to move, unable to speak. Is this what Heaven felt like?

The smiles they wore were blindingly happy and radiated joy. Neither looked in pain nor suffering and I felt my heart leap with gratitude. I felt the dream was James' way of telling me he had Serra now. He would keep her safe; safe for me.

Then the pair turned around and walked into the fog, leaving me alone, as my voice came back. "James? Serra?"

"Elena?"

"James!" I cried, turning around and around to find him, but I couldn't find him and I suddenly the ground beneath me had disappeared.

"Elena!"

My eyes shot open to see a teary-eyed Lily hovering over me. "What?"

"James," she choked, then sobbed into her hand. I gazed up at the broken girl before me.

I wanted to tell Lily about my dream, that he was alright and doing fine. But I couldn't bring myself to. She wouldn't believe nor understand the dream, and I felt James had wanted that. So instead, I sat up and pulled Lily next to me, enveloping her in a hug.

"We couldn't save him," she whispered.

"Shh," I comforted her cries. "It's not your fault."

Harry sombrely came to sit on my other side, long arms pulling the two of us into his chest. My father looked on with love and sadness in his eyes, a white sheet having been draped over James' still form.

I did not weep. I felt I did not need to, for closure had been granted to me. I only hoped that for Lily and Harry would someday understand. I dared dream that one day they would be united with their brother in a much better place.

<><><> Ten Years Later <><><>

Elena's POV

"Is he asleep?" Harry asked as I walked into the room.

I nodded, the hint of a smile on my lips as I walked toward my husband of five years as he pulled me into his arms. Still tall enough to rest his chin atop my head, he did so as we listened to the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock.

"I miss him," I whispered, turning my face into Harry's chest.

"I know."

Harry and I had been married when I was twenty-three, five years after James had passed away. I'd casually asked in our conversations that if we could visit angels in the Fifth Realm, was it possible we could see James?

"No," Harry had replied. "Only those who were born angels or part angel are able to move between Realms. Those who have died and gone to Heaven, or are guardian angels, are never seen again."

I was saddened that I would never see James in the flesh again. However, him and Serra made recurrent appearances in my dreams, even to this day.

Harry led me over to the couch were he sat down, pulling me into his lap as I curled myself into a fetal position. It had been an exhausting day.

"Mum?" A little voice called.

Our heads whipped around to see our four-year-old son standing shyly by the doorway, peering around the frame. His copper hair was like mine, but curly just like his father's; falling in his eyes.

"Oi, big guy. What're you doing up?" Harry chuckled, opening his arms for his son to clamber into as I scooted over.

To my dismay, our son had picked up on Harry's British accent rather than my American one, and spoke like a posh brat. I forever teased the pair about their trouble pronouncing words.

"I couldn't sleep. And I had a funny dream," the little boy rubbed his eyes.

"Well, weren't you sleeping if you had a dream?" I added in with a smile.

"Yes, and then I woke up," he insisted. "There was a little girl. With hair to here," his chubby fingers indicated a spot near his hips. "And she said she'd protect me."

My breath caught and Harry and I exchanged glances. In the early stages of our relationship, I'd been cautious of telling Harry about Serra. Eventually, I opened up to him and he now knew everything about my past, as did I with him.

"There was a man with her," my son continued. "He looked just like Daddy, only it wasn't Daddy."

James, Harry's voice reverberated in my head. My eyes were moist as I kissed the top of his head.

"Why don't you go back to sleep, okay?"

Drowsily, the child nodded. "Okay. Night mummy." he kissed my cheek.

"What about me?" Harry cried.

Our son giggled before kissing his father's cheek and scampering from the room.

I looked at Harry with a smile on my face; he beamed back at me. "Guess we know who his guardian angel is," he nuzzled into my neck.

"Yeah," I said breathlessly.

Harry pulled away to look me in the eyes. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead before speaking. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

So it continued. Our story, our family. The memories with our little boy, and little did I know, later, a daughter.

However, for now, we had a son. A beautiful, happy child who was so bright; I was so glad he was protected from the demons, who still roamed the earth. Harry was still actively slaying them, he told me he would never stop until Lilith was defeated.

The thought that Lilith was still out there wreaking havoc terrified me. I'd been in her cold clutches once; I prayed no one ever would again. But my prayers were futile, so I settled on protecting my son best I could. I knew later in life he would insist on becoming a demon hunter, like his father. But for now, he was still my little boy.

When he was born, the doctors asked what we would name him. Harry and I agreed to name him after the bravest man we'd ever known.

So we named him James.