Demon

Timothy’s

Together, my beloved and I, along with Michael’s Guardian, have managed to stave off the unconsciousness that was threatening his life.

We are filled with a heady sense of success. This is incredible, unheard of. Guardians have saved a life.

Guardians watch, and whisper, and wait. When the life ends, it ends, and the Guardian reunites with the soul, to be enveloped back into the multitude of other Guardians waiting between lives. It is not for a Guardian to change the fate of their Guarded.

But we have done this. Using the methods taught to us by my beloved, inspired by the influence of the Seer, we have succeeded in changing fate. We have acquired the knowledge which allowed us to save the life of my dearest one’s father.

It was the supplication of his Guardian which propelled me into action. I had been sadly contemplating the grief that Timothy would feel, the changes that would occur in his life, after his father drew his last breath. But then, his Guardian took the initiative to speak directly to me, shocking me into the realization that we need not passively await the end. We had the tools at hand to make an actual difference in the outcome of the event.

As we had been training for many months, I was able to contact my beloved, make him hear my message, help him understand what was needed. He reacted immediately, performing exactly the actions necessary to restore his father to consciousness.

It is startling how effectively he used the technique to reach his father’s mind, to nudge him awake from within. I do not fully understand exactly what happened. I hope that soon we will be able to discuss this event with Angel and the Seer, analyzing and learning together as we have done in the past.

Another miracle appears to have occurred. Together I hope we can gain understanding.

Michael’s

When Michael awakens, he is deeply bewildered. Not only is his normally distant son for some reason invading his space, but he feels light-headed, weak, breathless.

Timothy gasps, so close to his father that their faces are almost touching. “Dad?”

Michael wavers blurrily on the edge of consciousness. He leans his head back a bit further from his son, trying to focus on him. Then a wave of vertigo hits him and he slumps back down against the pillows propped uncomfortably behind him, closing his eyes again.

“No, no, no,” Timothy says, “come on Dad, you have to stay awake.”

Michael takes several deep breaths, and this seems to steady him. “What’re you doing?” he asks Timothy, his voice husky and weak.

Timothy is flooded with relief. His efforts appear to be working. However, he does not wish his father to be irate with him. Furthermore, he does not know how much he should tell Michael about what just happened. Should he call for help? Will his father be all right now? He waits to see if he can hear any suggestions from his Guardian, who attempts to convey that his priority should be to get his father up and moving, to prevent him from falling back into sleep. I sense that if only Michael stays awake, the effects of the drug will fade and he will be restored.

While Timothy pauses, trying to determine what step should be taken next, Michael struggles to sit up. He notices the strange placement of the pillows and pushes them to the side, wondering how that happened. Now that he is upright, his head begins to clear. He looks at Timothy, trying to figure out what is happening.

“Um,” Timothy says, trying to find an excuse for his behavior without alarming his father. “I’m, uh, hungry. Mom said I could wake you up if I needed anything.”

Michael closes his eyes but raises his eyebrows, slightly shaking his head. “Oh.” He takes another few deep breaths. “All right. Give me a minute.”

Timothy fears that his father will lay back down again, so he does not leave the room. After a brief silence, he prompts, “Can you make me something to eat now?”

Michael opens his eyes and studies the boy. He knows something odd is happening with the child, that his son’s behavior is even stranger than usual, but he doesn’t feel awake enough to figure it out. Simpler to just fulfill the request. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and shakily stands. Timothy watches carefully, and is greatly relieved when Michael yawns, stretches, and proceeds to go downstairs.

I regard Timothy’s Guardian. I am flooded with a powerful gratitude. “Thank you, Guardian,” I tell him. “Thank you, to both you and to Timothy. I will never forget what you have done this day.”