Business was as usual.

Meet at North's, then go off and do your own thing. They called in all the Guardians, most of which were completely unknown and remained invisible to the main Guardians' view.

Summer, aka Mother Nature, flapped lazily by her husband Jack Frost's side. Toothiana was flitting about excitedly with her Fairies and examining Jack's teeth. He didn't seem happy about it. Bunnymond and North were discussing defense plans--which really needed my expert touch--and Sandy was practicing his sand sculpting.

I leaned against a wall in the shadows, tinkering with some gears and trying to tune everyone out. The metal and the wires kept intertwining and folding and turning into what became a small mechanical bird. It fluttered out of my hand and around the room.

It landed in front of Angel and twittered at her. I ducked into the hallway. Maybe she didn't notice.

Too late. She looked up toward me, and cracked a shy grin. I could feel my cheeks burning. I hoped it wasn't too obvious. And then, she approached me, something no one had done for three thousand years. She handed the bird back to me and I flinched as her hand came in contact with mine. It was a strange feeling. Angel smiled. "Did you make this?"

"Y-yeah." Geez, how could I still talk after not speaking for a few millennia?

Angel peered at the bird, then examined my wings. "You made those too," she guessed, "right?"

I nodded.

"They're so intricate. How do they work?" I felt an eagerness rising in my chest that I hadn't felt since my days in Athens. It overcame my shy reluctance and the flirtatious feelings that had stained my cheeks pink.

I wanted to strike up a conversation.

"Well..." I extended the wings. "They're mechanical and magical at the same time. They kind of sense what I want them to do, and the levers and pulleys and gears and cables on the inside move them. The primary feather on each one doubles as a dagger--it's really sharp, don't touch it. And, the feathers can detach and wrap around the primary one to create a lance, like this." The metal feathers flew off with a series of clinking noises and wrapped around the end of the wing. In about three seconds I had two very long metal spears sticking out of my back. Angel's eyes widened in awe.

"I wish my wings could do that," she whispered, spreading her own wings. Unlike mine, they were natural with pink-tipped white feathers. They were smaller, but round and well-defined. They were probably powerful enough to carry her at least forty miles, and could cause some damage if you were to clout someone over the head with them.

I smiled at Angel, something I hadn't done in a long time. "Your wings are perfect the way they are," I told her. "I only made mine because I was really bored and thought I could use something that not only would protect me but also make travel easier. Going from Scotland down to Athens can take a while."

Angel cocked her head with a enlightened grin. "You live in Scotland?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"But you don't have an accent."

I spread my arms. "When a guy hears all the creative ideas and imaginations of each of the seven billion people on this planet, he'll tend to go with the accent simplest to his tongue," I stated. "For me: American. Specifically Pacific Northwest accent where it's almost Canadian but not quite."

"Where do you like to spend your time?"

"Eh, despite living in Scotland, I actually spend a lot of time in Seattle, Washington. I go back to the bogs and heather when I need to create something in the peace and quiet of a foggy morning in the old lands of the Norsemen. I also visit my hometown of Athens regularly."

"Really?" she inquired. "I've never been there."

I shrugged. "You could come with me next time I go," I ventured. Angel grinned and flicked her short golden hair out of her eyes.

"Why couldn't we go now?"

Suddenly one of the Yetis bellowed something unintelligible. North nodded to Angel. "Ya got an overload of your love-stuff, Angel!"

"Shoot." Angel looked back at me and smiled. "Well, see you around?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." My cheeks were burning again, and I didn't know why this time. Angel flew off toward her office, little fairy things fluttering around her. The bird I had made earlier nested in my hand, and had gained a pinkish tinge with a red heart on its head from Angel touching it.

I smiled down at it, and it twittered back up at me. I stroked its head and realized how empty I felt without someone to talk to.

It wasn't good.

And I think that's why Pitch appeared to me in a nightmare that night. Or maybe it was a vision of the future with him talking to me as well. I saw a blurry image of a guy with two withered and broken wings slowly plodding down a dirt road on a cloudy, gray, foggy day. Tall black trees rose on either side. A black wisp of smoke churned its way around the guy.

I heard whispers.

"How does it feel to be lost, lonely, broken, unwanted?"

"There's a piece of you that, if I harnessed it, you and your true form could become one, and together we could take the world with darkness."

"They can't see you. The Guardians, I mean. I have noticed you, however. Would you like to stay invisible, or be known and feared like me?"

"My daughter has stopped me far too often. I need your craftiness to create something to stop her for once."

"You'd become powerful, Ben, powerful."

I saw bronze ad blood. I saw a dark shape with glowing red eyes running a blurry image of a boy with wings through with a sword of darkness. I saw carnage everywhere, fire, wounded fighters, the limping image of a heavily injured dragoness, and I could feel pain, even though it was a dream. It was so vivid and terrifying.

I sat straight up in bed. Sweat dripped down my forehead, but it was cold. My heart raced and hurt with each beat, the scars on either side of it from my suicide so long ago burning. The matching scars on my chest and back were inflamed and appeared to glow gold. This had never happened before.

I looked out the window. It was still dark out. I didn't want to wake Angel, but she was the only one I could confide in.

I threw on my day clothes and went to find her.

She was awake, but looked exhausted. Her hair was a mess and she had three empty venti coffee cups laying on the floor. Four more waited to be consumed while she worked on another. Calls would not stop coming in from brand new couples or any other sort of romance from all around the world.

I knocked lightly on the doorframe. She blinked at me blearily. "Why are you still awake?"

"Same thing I was gonna ask you," I smirked. Angel yawned.

"Well," she countered, "do you have a bajillion couples to watch and even more to get together on a daily basis?"

I laughed. "No."

"Then shut up. By the way, I never actually caught your name. Isn't it, like, Benacias Imaginatio or--"

"Just Ben, ma'am," I said through a bitter smile. "Please do not call me anything other than Ben."

"Oh," she yawned. "Why? Do you not like your name? Does it bring a bad memory--"

"Let's not talk about my name. There are more important matters I wish to discuss. Hypothetically, what would one do if they had a dream involving what seem to be glimpses of the future and a certain man who's official title is the Boogeyman?" A cold shadow seemed to drift in front of the moonlight as soon as I said his name. Angel appeared to become somewhat frightened and more alert. She set her coffee down and turned toward me, folding her hands in front of her.

"Ben," she whispered, "are you asking me this because it's happened to you?"

"Yes," I replied. "In fact, just about ten minutes ago. And you're the only one I can ask because nobody else can see me."

"I was going to say go see Sandy, but that won't work, obviously. I'll see what I can do to help. It's never happened to me, but it doesn't sound good."

I felt relieved knowing I had someone to help me. I whispered, "Thanks, Angel."

She smiled at me.

"You're welcome. Now get back to sleep, knucklehead."