Wirklich ein Engel(truly an Angel)

It was still dark. That was the first thing Nightcrawler noticed when he awoke. The second was the sound of thunder, the distant flash of lighting as rain pelted the windows. He ran a hand over his face as he forced his battered body into a sitting position, his yellow eyes on the two rats rustling in a wire cage on a desk across from the bed. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened, and when he did humiliation flooded through him all over again. He shouldn't have let that gang overpower him like that. He was one of the X-men. A protector. He wasn't supposed to be a victim. He winced as he swung his leg over the edge of the bed. And now he was relying on the kindness of a girl he didn't even know until the others found him. He hoped Christine was alright.

Guilt wrung his stomach as his eyes fell on the picture of the little redhead. He shouldn't have flirted like that with her when he already had Christine Palmer seeking his attentions. He shoved the thoughts from his mind as he reached for his clothes, washed and neatly folded on a chair by the bed. The alarm clock on her nightstand was flashing 6:30 as he crept from the room. The house was silent, save the distant burbling of the coffeemaker. He took a moment to study the oil paintings that adorned the walls, most of them clearly based in a fantasy setting. There were also wall sculptures of the green man or Celtic knot work, candelabras. The house was old, perhaps. It smelled strongly of wood and dust, but it was well taken care of.

He soon found himself descending the stairs, followed by an aged Siamese cat with one eye closed a little more than the other. He grinned despite himself and gave the cat a brief pat on the head as he moved into what must have been the living room. It was filled with overstuffed furniture and a dark stained claw footed coffee table. The T.V was off, the dark screen reflecting the little redhead asleep on the couch, her blanket slipping onto the floor and twisted about her ankles where another, fat grey cat slumbered. The Siamese soon joined it, purring like a swarm of hornets.

He chuckled and picked the blanket up from off the floor, gently unwrapping it from her feet and draping it over her. It had been a very long while since anyone had accepted him so easily, so fully as this one. He smiled down at her as he straightened, letting his fingers trail along her delicately angled cheek, though he drew away when she stirred. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung heavy in the air now, drawing him inexorably towards the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, his spade tipped tail flicking once as he peered around the room and then glanced back over his shoulder at the sleeping redhead, a smile spreading across his face.

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Rachel awoke to the familiar smells of breakfast cooking, the sounds of grease splattering and pots and pans scraping across the stove. She smiled as she sat up in her bed and stretched her long bronzed limbs and shook her auburn hair from her face. Ivy certainly was up early, but she wasn't going to question her good fortune. A nice big breakfast was just what the doctor ordered. Clambering out of bed and stifling a yawn she shuffled to the bathroom and splashed a bit of cold water on her face, wiping away the remains of last night's makeup. She could hear Anakalia stumping down the stairs, grumbling about nothing in particular. The image always brought a smile to her face. She'd plop down at the kitchen table, groggy and tousle haired, less a morning person than even Ivy, and stab at her food until the caffeine started to kick in.

And then she head the scream. It was Anakalia, suddenly very awake. It was hard to tell if she was angry or terrified. Either way, Rachel's feet thundered down the stairs. Whatever was going on, she'd be there to help her friends, because that’s what they did. Somewhere below a door banged open, Aislyn and Dimitri's voices raised in confusion and fear. And then she saw him, the demon bent over Ivy, gripping her by the shoulder as she looked around wild-eyed. A knife was gleaming in his three fingered hand.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!" Anakalia shrieked, grabbing a greenman plaque off the wall and hurling it at him with considerable force. He gave a startled yelp and dropped the knife, disappearing with a soft *BAMF* of imploding air and the slight stench of brimstone.

The plaque landed harmlessly on the floor, one of the carved leaves chipping and skipping across the carpet as Ivy scrambled to get off the couch. Everyone was screaming at once, Rachel and Anakalia rushing towards her as she tangled herself up in her blanket and toppled.

"Oh my god!-"
"Where'd he go?!-"
"No no, its not what you-"
"Where DID he go?"
"OH MY GOD!"

Ivy covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes as she was pulled to her feet. She batted away four pairs of hands and stomped a few feet away, searching for some sign of the blue mutant. Maybe he teleported back upstairs?

"He had a knife!" Rachel was saying, picking it up off the floor as if to make certain it was real. "Oh my god, Ivy, are you okay?"

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Anakalia asked, eying her keenly.

"Would you both just stop and Listen to me?" Dimitri was demanding, glaring at the room at large. Aislyn shook her head, peering up the stairs for some sign of the mutant, followed closely by Bagera, Ivy's aged Siamese, who seemed upset at being left out so easily.

"Would you ALL just SHUT UP already?!" She bellowed in her best 'mom-voice', the voice she used to use when she had to take care of her little brother while her dad was deployed over seas. It was the kind of voice that people had a tendency to listen to.

"Aislyn, will you PLEASE give them the cliff notes version while I go find him?" She asked as she scooped up her ruined greenman. Aislyn nodded briskly and brushed her tangle of strawberry blond hair from her face.

Ivy didn't wait to hear what she said as she climbed the stairs. "Kurt?" She called. No reply. She checked her room, the bathroom, the attic. He hadn't found his way upstairs. Where would he have gone? He hadn’t left had he? He was still hurt, and those thugs lived nearby. If they found him again... She fisted her hands in her hair, sliding down the banister as her worry grew. She darted back into the living room. "Kurt?" She called again. There was still no reply, but she didn't need one as she walked into the kitchen.

He was crouched behind the fridge, near the door that lead to the back yard, clutching his side. He forced a smile upon her approach and straightened.


"I'm so sorry!" Ivy breathed, gripping his forearms as he swayed on the spot. "I didn't think they'd react like that...Are you alright? you should be in bed!" She said, dropping the greenman unceremoniously on the counter.


"I...made breakfast." He said with a weak chuckle, and indeed he had. A stack of pancakes, a plate of sausage, bacon and scrambled eggs were waiting on the table with a pitcher of orange juice and a carton of Milk.

She looked back up at him with a bemused expression, surprised laughter bubbling forth as she wrapped her arms around his midsection, letting him lean on her for support. She felt his hands drop to her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder. He was warm and well muscled under the thin pajamas she found in the dryer. She felt his tail wrap around her waist and smiled despite herself, closing her eyes and burying her face in his shoulder. She could get used to this.

They were still standing like that when The others walked into the kitchen.