Weston Covanger had only ever lost one fight; it had been with a friend, brief, painless, until he'd gotten home and told his family:

'To fight for one thing is to fight for everything.' Grandpappy Covanger's lessons could be harsh - 'We bury our enemies.'

Weston had not. Weston had failed.

To this day - he hadn't taken a beating like that punishment. So Weston did not fight lightly, he had a reputation for absolute brutal efficiency when it came to violence. The students at Red Hills High knew not to offend Weston, just as their parents knew not to trouble a Covanger.

And therefore - he had to admire Hickory. Even if the runt had more balls than brains, approaching across the lunch lawn toward Weston's table. You could almost felt bad for the pup, falling for May, because even if Weston hadn't already picked May, Hickory didn't have a chance, he was a nobody.

But within Hickory's eyes Weston saw that need -

And it was just a look! And Weston Covanger was looking back, meeting that gaze. People could surprise you.

Who knew the boy had so much...class, manners - Hickory's look wasn't a threat but an invitation, to discuss the matter as men could. A chance for Weston to bow out gracefully, even - if he wasn't a man. If he wasn't worthy of May, or if she wasn't valued beyond blood or bruises.

Because Hickory didn't come up spitting insults, chest puffed out - it was just a look. As Weston looked back he nodded, slowly standing up as he wiped his lips with a napkin and dropped it onto his plate, and while it made no sound, it's passing rippled in silence as others noticed - as Weston stood up, stepping cleanly away from the table, hearing the whispers. Their names. And May.

Of course May gasped, as though surprised. Perhaps pleased? That Weston would fight for her? That was certainly more then asking a lady to a dance, that she was that subtle, that clever. That she'd never asked if he even liked her, never asked to go steady, and now? What level would this place their relationship in the eyes of others?

Dangerous - Imagine what she could accomplish in the Kitchen?

Weston and Hickory converged, a slow walk - a clear path between them as the other students backed away.

And if this wasn't a time for smiling? It was a mirrored grin they both held, not hatred, because they weren't enemies. Just two men eyeing the same claim, the only question was -

Who wanted it more?

Three paces between and they slowed to a stop, their shoulders square, and still neither had blinked. Weston could smell the grass, felt the soft breeze as he unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled them back, took off his gold ring; the family crest, and tucked it into his back pocket.

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Hickory's hands opened, fingers fanned out quickly in a wave -

No weapons. Just us. Ready?

The slow nods, and -

The world tore open! A drop of light that bled through a wound in reality, impossibly bright -

The roiling globule hissed like lava in it's rapid growth, roared like a tornado, and what the fuck!

"The Heavens call for aid!" A golden voice rang -

What? No - but it's real. It's here. And yet? It can't be - Weston could feel his skin vibrating from the sound, air whipping, his clothes flapping as madly as his thoughts as something emerged from that ripe multi-faceted glow, more then just light -

Hair. A head - no halo, but wings -

It certainly wasn't an Angel -

Screams! May's shrill voice, "Hickory!"

Hickory hadn't backed away - Weston's feet were slipping on the slick grass as they made space between himself and this absence of sanity, his eyes couldn't leave the sight of -

Hickory punched it.

"He punched it?" It was flying, hovering - beautiful, more beautiful than any human had a right to be, glowing and godly, the word 'heaven.'

People shouted -

"My God!"

"Hickory!"

"He punched an Angel!"

Weston didn't believe - couldn't believe - but now there was no Hickory. Hickory was gone. And the being? Alien? What was worse? Gone as well, returned to the ball of multi-hued light shifting like a perfect diamond, and it was just shouts now - but Weston had seen it, seen the light wrap around Hickory's hand, slushing over and absorbing him -

Gone. That was impossible - that wasn't a hologram or a...

All the adrenaline that hadn't appeared for just a fight, an easy fight, now coursed through Weston's veins, his body electric, he felt his head slam into a tree, the rough bark forcing the halt as he realized he was still trying to scoot back, get away from -

Weston scrambled up the tree trunk to take his feet, continued to stare at the glowing orb that floated above ground in impossible weightless wraith.

It ate Hickory.

Turning he looked at May's face, seeing a shocked, blank expression that matched his own mental discordance, she was praying, her already perfectly pale features gone milk. The entire world around them was caught in shocked stillness, friends clutched at each other gasping or screaming, unable to turn away, unable to stop it, to change it -

Weston saved May, they were still in danger, he pulled her from the table, guiding her back, away from the threat -

His movement was like a gunshot, students scattered. The fire alarm was suddenly wailing, blaring around them but May was dazed, zombified movements and dead weight - she was going to be trampled!

Weston pulled May tight to him, feeling the shoves and shoulders of the terrified, hearing their panting, panicked pace, he took the blows and shielded her - and when it subsided he swept her up into his arms and ran, ran to the soccer field, to that ingrained emergency meeting point that had been drilled into them so many times.

The world seemed to move in slow motion, wild thoughts trying to process everything he had seen and coming up blank, hardly hearing May's voice in the emergency, not a minute had passed -

Emergency.

Of course Grandpappy Covanger knew what to do, had left words for such a time, and Weston felt his mind calm. Because some things just couldn't be forgotten no matter the circumstance, not a lesson that had been beaten into you...

'They see emergency. We see opportunity.'

Hickory punched an Angel.

May prayed.

Weston made a call, the right call. Not to the police, not his father or even his Grandfather, but his uncle - a call that would change his life as much as that thing, those - aliens or light people, whatever they were - would change the world.

"Mayor Covanger's office."