Insanity at its best

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As a father you always worry about your kids. Even more so when your kids are adopted, and you are a committed single parent of two boys who might as well be the embodiment of Yin and Yang. The level of worry and stress sometimes makes you wonder if the stress and worrying is worth it.

Then again, when they both go missing on the same night that a meteorological impossibility happens. Well that's when you think you haven't been worrying enough.

Bursting out of the door I ran. The snow falling heavily now, in the middle of August, while totally unexpected for Northern British Columbia, was not the weirdest thing I have had to deal with. Watching the panicking people, I pushed through. My destination being where I was working at least one of my two adopted children had been taken and hoping I was not too late.

My adopted sons, Sam and Mike, were special children. While absolute polar opposites, they were still family, as I adopted both as infants. Sam, or rather Samuael, was a demon born child. Skin as dark as night. Mike, or rather Michael, was an angel born child. Now in their early teens, they had started to rebel, with various consequences.

Never thought I would have had to reprimand an angel for turning water into wine, while celebrating his brother's 16 birthday. Nor had I ever thought that I would be consoling a demon born, because the kids at school were being bullies.

Watching a car, sliding sideways past me, I realized that the snow was getting worse. Wasn't stopping me though. Pastor Jamieson was still going to have to answer for the disappearance of Sam. I knew that the church kids didn't like Sam, and had threatened him a few times with a cross.

That day still made Mike very angry, even then I ended up having a very long conversation with the school nurse about how she had never seen burns like that on Sam, or any other child.

The conversation I had with the principal was even more spectacular, as he felt that Michael had absolutely over reacted to the situation. His religious bias coming out while going on about how lifting the bully up into the air several thousand feet, was absolutely not how any being should have reacted to what happened to Sam.

It took all of my self control to not punch the zealot. He backed down and didn't expel Mike, after Sam joined us. The reason being that his face was still bubbling and smoking from where the boy in question had pressed a cross into Sam's face. Seems that putting a blessed item on the flesh of a demon was disturbing. The mark is still there, and starts smoking anytime someone with a religiously blessed item is near.

Now I was running to the same church that the boys who assaulted Sam went to. Their pastor had called to have Sam banished several times over the last fifteen years; the boys had been a part of my family. Always to meet the amazing support group they have of friends, and teachers. Always saying he would be back. Never thought he would stoop to kidnapping.

Sprinting around another accident, as people were not prepared for the road conditions. The church finally came into view. Fire had engulfed the bell tower, and I could see the water jets from the firefighters putting out the rest of the building. "Fuck", I burst out running towards the burning building.

The fire chief tried to get in my way, "Frank! You can't go in there!"

"The hell I can't John!" I yelled back, sidestepping his tackle. Seems John forgot I was a running back when I had been in school. Full scholarship, and top of my class. My nationals championship ring sitting at home in my safe.

The snow helped. As John went down into a pile of snow, several other first responders attempted to stop me from getting to the church. I wasn't letting anyone stop me from getting to Sam. Thankfully I didn't need to get physical with any of them, as they all slipped in the snow, falling with the grace of a Bull moose trying to navigate a maze of clotheslines.

I reached the church and slammed my shoulder into the flame engulfed door. The wood exploded inward as I flew into the church. Landing on the floor, I tried to roll with the fall, only to run into something heavy, wet, and covered in rough cloth. Startled, I checked to see what it was I had run into.

Turned out it was an unconscious body. In horror I pulled back the hood to reveal the father of the boy who had scared Sam. Jacob Dracon.

That's when I heard the screaming voice of Pastor Jamieson. Pushing Jacob up on to his side, and checking for a pulse, I started scanning for Sam. I was relieved when finding Jacob's pulse, he gave a rough sputtering cough. Still scanning the wreckage of the church, a scene of chaos met my eyes.

Random people lay in random heaps, as though they were flung around like rag dolls. some unconscious, others groaning and helping others as best they could while not aggravating their own injuries. All of them trying their best to escape the carnage and the being that had caused it.

Pastor Jamieson was on the floor, trying his best to shove his back through a wall. Screaming to defeat the demon. “Take the hellspawn back from whence it came!” His ragged zealous cries rang out. His eyes seemingly stuck with religious fervor to one spot.

Following his eyes to the middle of the sanctum, my eyes landed on Mike's wings. The pristine white of his holy origins, stained with blood and soot. Making him look like an avenging Angel, sent to make sinners repent. As I ran to him yelling, he turned, tears running down his face. Under his arms he was hugging a limp form, wrapped in soot covered bandages.

It was Sam.

Collapsing to my knees, I slid the remaining few feet to the boys. Mike's wing lifted up, and wrapped me in a protective embrace. When I got to Sam he was barely breathing, his right arm was hanging limply in his brother's arm. “I tried dad, I couldn't get to him in time,” he sobbed.

That's when I noticed Mike’s right wing was broken in two spots, and he was covered with bruises from being beaten. He had tried to save Sam, only to be beaten himself. The screaming preacher still ranting about how Sam had to die.

That poor teenage angel, teeming with the conflicting emotions of rage, sadness, disgust, guilt, and lord only knows what else. Having to sit there and listen to his heavenly fathers Servant declaring that the entity that was the nicest, gentlest, and most peaceful being Michael knew was the cause of all of the destruction around them. How does any teenager cope with those conflicting feelings?

How are any of us able to cope?

I for one had had enough of the preacher's sermons. I took my kids in a big embrace, “I have got this Mike. Get Sam outside to the paramedics.” For once the angel did as asked. My merely human gaze turned from concern to the utmost of anger and contempt as my gaze moved from my children, to the man who had attempted to kill one of them.

“Is Sam going to be ok dad?” He asks between broken sobs of grief.

“I don't know Michael, but we need to get him out of here,” I implore him. Helping him to stand, and helping him shoulder the weight of his unconscious brother.

Mike struggled for a moment, then fell to his knee. I went to help him as any father would, only for him to hold up his hand, “No, dad. I got this,” gritting his teeth, he prayed, “Father, I need your strength to help he, who I call brother. While he would not be welcome in your home, he is still the lesson I came to learn. Don't let me fail him again.”

Now, I am not a man of the cloth, but praying to God to help you lift the unconscious form of a demon born seems the pinnacle of weirdness. Yet the heavens opened a single ray of light, spilling upon Mike and Sam. Mike, finding the strength to lift his brother up and carry him like a sleeping child. “Thank you Father,”

Regrettably that's when the preacher found his conviction to attempt to continue with his plan. “HOW DARE YOU PREVERT THE HOLY FATHERS WILL!” He screamed with zealous fervor. Standing up and pulling a wicked looking knife from his robes, “That BEAST will not leave this sanctuary!”

The boys were almost at the door when pastor Jameson lunged towards them. I tackled him to the ground, and wrestled with the knife. “You will not thwart the will of GOD!” He spat in my face.

I didn't even realize the knife entered my left shoulder. I was too busy punching him, my own anger taking over, “He has done NOTHING TO YOU!” My voice erupted, in my own mirror zealous fervor, “YOUR DEITY JUST GAVE HIS POWER TO HIS ANGEL BORN!”

The pastor was past being able to answer his unconscious form before me. “For fuck sakes,” that's when I felt a hand on my right shoulder.

“Frank, my son” no one had ever called me that.

When I turned to see who it was, I was met with a blinding light, totally obscuring whomever it was. “He will no longer bother your charges. As I, for one of the many, am deeply indebted to you for your kindness, and truly divine temperament.”

Pulling the knife from my shoulder, the being pressed their hand on the wound, and it healed. Hurt like all the fire in the world was being shoved through me all at once, mind you.

That's the last thing I remember, before waking up in the hospital.

Mike and Sam are ok. Michael’s wing is still in a cast, and will have issues with flying for a few years, but it will heal. Sam spent six weeks in a coma, but has recovered.

Pastor Jameson, well his church exploded when the divine touched my wound. Out of all of the people that were in the church, only he was unaccounted for. The crater where the church once stood is now avoided by everyone, as once you cross the edge of it you can hear the agonizing screams of pastor Jameson.

And I hope you'll know that's a lie

'Cause I've found what I have been waiting for

But to get there means crossing a line

So I'm crossing a line"

-'Crossing a line' ~ Mike Shinoda

Thanks again @mikeshinoda your music always hits me when I need it.

Never too late.

Giving me the fuel to hike my mountains,

So I can fix my fate.