The absence of Nyx's things made the cabin feel empty. At one time, Angel hated to find her brush left out by the sink, all clumped up with hair, but these pieces of her all strewn about had been like collateral.

A slight chill hung in the air. He'd left the window open and closed it again with a snap.

Angel wandered into his kitchen. He checked the fridge. One solitary can of beer stood on the bare shelves and condiments were stacked in the door. The cold light illuminated the dark kitchen. Grabbing the beer, he let the door slam shut on its own and returned to the living room.

When the beer was gone, he tried to think of something else to do. Normally, he'd go see Nyx and they'd jam together, but that was out of the question. He kicked himself for fighting Carl and ruining things.

I'll only hurt her anyway. No matter how hard I try, I won't be able to hide this power forever. Maybe I don't even want to?

Then he thought of Ivy. A harbinger, warning of his future if he pushed too far.

Angelus looked at his guitar in its stand next to the television, gleaming red in his night-vision and decided to practice without her. He hugged it close. The familiar silk of its glossed body, the tension of the strings under his calloused fingers brought comfort.

He sat with the guitar in his lap and played. Each pluck of the string vanquished a rogue thought, but Nyx found her way into every note regardless.

As he played, Angel became aware of the warm life-force that hovered in the air. It was in everything, everywhere all at once, delicate, like the gossamer threads of a spider web.

How didn't I notice such a powerful sensation for so long?

This power was more like an awareness of an already existing element. In much the same way he was capable of perceiving the ultra-violet spectrum, this new sensation simply was.

The energy had its own flow and rhythm. The beating of a heart or the rise and fall of the breath.

Angel sat with it. Not commanding, merely observing as he continued to strum. He marvelled at the waves of blue light surging as he played. The energy ebbed with the song, responding to his intensity. It grew until light trailed from the instrument like mist. It surrounded him in a sphere, hovering at the boundary of his skin.

He consciously drew it into himself as he played, drinking it into his body like a fine wine. It made him almost as delirious.

If this tiny amount feels this good, I'll have to build a tolerance.

When he stopped playing and put his guitar back, the sensation remained. His body had never been so light. It's not like he had much pain to complain about anyway aside from the usual aches from work. Even the hollow, empty pang in his chest, the constant gnawing anxiety had dissipated.

Every cell in his body vibrated. He needed action, to get out and do something. He stripped off his shirt and stepped into the night. The fog rolled in, bringing the taste of brine and the scent of seaweed.

Angel pushed out his wings. Charcoal feathers beat the balmy night air. The flight to the triplet's house did not take long. He could practically do it in his sleep.

He hovered by Alistair's window. This wasn't his strong suit. His wings were built more for distance and speed, but he could tolerate it a little while. Angel pressed his palm to the glass and pushed it upward. Thankfully it wasn't locked and shifted easily. The screen had gone missing a long time ago. He slipped inside to find Alistair stooped over his desk, writing on a notepad.

"Do you ever use the front door?" Alistair asked, not bothering to look up.

"It's late, I didn't want to wake anyone."

"I don't count then?"

"I knew you'd be up."

Angel flopped onto his best friend's bed. The room had not changed much over the years. Alistair's bookshelves were still crammed with paperbacks and comics he'd collected until they overflowed. His desk drowned under cluttered knick-knacks. Milk-crates stuffed full of records were shoved under the record player on its stand.

Alistair's energy filled the room, rippling outward and building as he wrote. It was soft, and easy. There was so much of it, but it was not overwhelming. Rather, it was radiant like a hearth fire.

"Do you wanna do something?" Angel asked, tossing a pillow and catching it over and over again.

Alistair looked at him, covering his paper with his arm. "Like what?"

"I dunno, something fun," said Angel. He sat up and peeked at Alistair's note pad. "Whatcha writing?"

"Nothing," he said and snapped the notebook closed.

Angel grinned. "More corny love poems for Blossom?"

"Shut it," Alistair said, only slightly annoyed. "We can't all be stoic cynics such as yourself." He spun around in his chair. "I'm thinking we go out to the shed? My car is getting cleaned. I leant it to Cass and she spilled a bunch of wine in the back. She tried to clean it out but there were some gnarly stains."

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Angel swallowed, his throat suddenly tender. "Uh, yeah, that sounds alright."

They crept out into the upstairs hall, careful not to wake the others and slipped out through the front door. They made sure to close it softly as they left.

Crickets and peep toads sung out in the still night air. They tromped through the tall grass around the side of the house toward the shed.

Alistair pulled the shed door open with a pop and flicked on the over head light. The naked bulb clicked with a light buzz. The far right corner seemed much larger now Nyx's drums were gone. Angel hadn't realized how much space they had occupied before.

He sat at the table while Alistair rummaged through the shelf.

"Urgh, where did she put it?" Alistair muttered under his breath. "Nyx better not have taken it, I swear. Did you see what she did with my stash?"

"No," Angel mumbled.

"Never mind, I got it." He pulled out a small tin and carried it to the table. "I was surprised she wasn't moving in with you."

Angel shrugged and averted Alistair's eyes, picking at the grains of wood on the table instead.

"She didn't want to," he said.

"Did you guys break up again?" He opened the tin and pulled out a joint and a lighter.

"I'm not sure. She's tossed me into some kind of purgatory."

"What did you do this time?" Alistair lit the joint and inhaled.

"Me?" Angel exclaimed, taking the joint from Alistair. "Why do you always assume it's my fault?"

He leaned back and blew smoke rings. "Because it usually is."

"She wanted to move in with me, but I said no, and then I got into that stupid fight," Angel grumbled. He took another drag off the joint before handing it to Alistair. "I was sorry for it, but the fight made her rethink things, so when I told her I changed my mind, she had already claimed the cabin."

"Just give her a minute, she'll cool down," Alistair said. "She's forgiven you loads of times before."

"I don't think she will this time. I really fucked up." Angel examined the design on the worn out tin. He scratched and peeled at the faded label. A rolled up bag of weed crammed inside the tin, squashed alongside a couple of small pipes and discarded lighters. "Then she asked me to love her and I said nothing."

"Dude," Alistair gasped. "You're gonna fix this, right?"

"I don't know if I can." Angel recalled the look of horror in Nyx's eyes, the way she cried against his chest, the hurt, the rage. His stomach dropped.

"You gotta stop leading her on," said Alistair. "If you don't want a serious relationship, that's fine, but you gotta say so."

Tension squeezed his chest into a vice.

Either way I look at it, I'm gonna lose her. I'll fuck it all up somehow.

"That's not what I want either. I just - I dunno."

Alistair sighed. "Look, I try to keep out of it and I don't like to choose sides, but at the end of the day, she's my sister. It's pretty difficult to hear her cry and not be mad at you."

Angel's heart stung. The waves of frustration and grief emanating off Alistair made him want to turn inside out.

"Everything is so much more complicated now."

"I think you're making it more complicated than it needs to be," said Alistair.

Angel sighed and picked the skin around the edges of his fingernails. He watched it heal again with tears blurring his eyes. He still hadn't wrapped his head around it.

"I really did die last night." The words tasted sour in his mouth.

It was only for a few minutes. Does it even still count?

"What do you mean you died?" Alistair exclaimed.

"I fought Aluminum Carl and he kicked the absolute shit outta me," Angel explained. As he spoke, the pain in his ribs recurred, sharp and vivid. "Nyx and Cass pulled me out of the ring and tried to take me to the clinic and... and I guess I died."

"You guess?" Alistair's eyes shone with horror.

"Nyx did the compression thing and a bright light came... and then I was back completely healed like nothing happened. It seems to be the same power as -"

"Ivy," Alistair said, cutting him off. "Well shit. What are you gonna do?"

"What can I do? We gotta pretend it never happened so Ivy doesn't pitch a fit."

"Do you think she would?" Alistair frowned. "I mean, loads of people have all kinds of dangerous powers out there, but so long as people use them responsibly, she doesn't seem to care."

"Nyx seems to think so," said Angel. He took the joint from Alistair and had a long, deep drag.

"If hiding your new ability is what you want to do, of course I'll keep your secret."

"Yes and no," Angel grumbled. "We don't know how Ivy will respond, but I was experimenting with it tonight. It's like this whole new world of sensation has opened up to me and I need to explore it. All of it."

"Careful Grub, you're not exactly good with moderation."

The urge to taste more of that power itched under his skin, nearly impossible to resist.

There can be no small licks, no such thing as just a taste. Not until I get a better hang of things.

Angel clenched his jaw. Ivy had sucked up thousands at once during the height of the war. Whole armies. The more she consumed, the more powerful she became. Her range expanded, as did the fear and awe she instilled in all of Gleodem.

His breath came in quick, rapid bursts and he scraped his fingernails into his jeans. The light flared whenever he closed his eyes, and as frightened as it made him, being drug into the darkness was worse.

I was just gone. There was nothing. Can I even die at all now? I don't want to ever go back there.

"Are you ok?" Alistair reached out to Angel. The sensation of Alistair's warm aura made him flinch away. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," Angel said.

"This is a big deal Angel. You might not care if something happens to you, but I do. I was scared half to death. You scared everyone as a matter of fact, and poor Nyx -"

Angel shifted uncomfortably, but didn't know how to respond.

Alistair sighed. Hot waves of frustration, mingling with the bitter tang of disappointment and grief emanated from him. Angel's stomach churned with guilt.

Maybe I'll wake up and find this was all a bad dream.

"For the record, I'm glad you didn't die. When I heard, I was... I love you dude."

"Gross," Angel teased, though the lump in his throat made his voice catch. "I guess I love you too etcetera."

"Don't be a turd," Alistair laughed. "So who else knows?"

"Only you guys."

"How did you hide it from Kismet? She'll find out if you're around her long enough."

Angel shrugged. "I guess her telepathy doesn't work too well with me."

"Speaking of, where is she anyway?"

"She's in good hands, don't worry," said Angel. "I left her with Nyx."

Alistair lifted an eyebrow. "You don't think she can read Nyx's mind?"

"Oh." The blood drained from Angel's face. "Well, shit."

"Good thinking with that one Grub." Recovered sufficiently from his shock, Alistair straightened in his chair. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "A genius you are."

"I never claimed to be the brains of this operation," said Angel. "I'm clearly the beauty. I can't have it all."

"Yeah, that's it." Alistair chuckled.

"Do you think Kismet would rat me out?"

"I doubt it," said Alistair. "I know her about as well as you do, but I don't get that vibe about her. Maybe we should just tell her so we can explain why it's so important to keep quiet?"

Angel nodded, still thinking. "Yeah, you're right. We'll have to talk to her." The beer curdled in his stomach. "What if she doesn't listen? What if she turns me in instead?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Alistair said, patting Angel on the shoulder. "She seems like a reasonable girl."

Anxiety sat like a stone at the center of his chest. If Ivy wanted to come and kill him or take him away, there was nothing Alistair, or anyone, could do about it.