Excruciating cold clasped Ezra limbs. He felt that first, like the cold depths of the earth had reached out to squeeze the existence of life from him. He twitched a finger, and the pain travelled through him with such discomfort, his eyes forced open.

He panicked when the pebbled beach below was all he could see. Was he falling? Had he been dropped from a height that would end his long miserable life. But the beach wasn't rising to meet him.

He wasn't falling, he was dangling.

Ezra pushed his boots into the wet earth. Slowly, he dragged his weak body away, rolling onto his spine and gasping at the zap of pain as his lungs tried to breathe in the icy air.

He laid on the edge of the cliff for a long time. Rain started falling. His skin was so cold, Ezra could barely feel it.

He knew he couldn't lay out in the open forever. The demons who had left him there would soon return to make sure he had gone, or worse, gone from the world.

With all his strength, Ezra sat up. A wave of sickness washed over him, and he threw up over the side of the cliff face. He held his head in his hands, picturing his secluded beach and the small alcove in the cliffside, sheltered from the wind and the rain.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Once he was there, he cried out long and loud, knowing the vast space of the ocean would swallow his wailing as if it was a gentle breath. He curled up into a tight ball, feeling the cold hard pebbles beneath him, but hurting too much to crawl into the alcove.

No wonder he had been so bitter after living where he was not wanted for almost a century. How had he gone on before meeting Tom? How had he coped with the hatred, and the bullying? How had that felt like normal life?

The rain poured harder, and Ezra forced his battered body into the side of the cliffs. His teeth shattered on a body that wasn't used to feeling the cold so severely. Ezra dreamed of a comfortable bed, a cup of clean water, and the loving hands of someone holding him until the pain had been sucked out of his wounds.

The anguish he felt towards everyone who had hurt him soon simmered. He could resent the demons all he liked, but in the end, he only felt sorry for them. Perhaps that was his angelic soul shining through, but they didn't know forgiveness. They would hate him for not being them, therefore they would never know peace.

Ezra gripped his chest, and rested a pounding head against the cold stone that surrounded him. He had to get back to Wileshire village. How could he get there when he was in so much pain?

Ezra missed how he used to be able to travel as an angel, fast and efficient. Travelling as a demon was slow and hard work, especially when he had been beaten within an inch of his life.

He rested for longer, drifting in an out of sleep. He wasn't sure if he had woken and dusk or dawn, but the colour of the sky was glum, and the tide was close. The water was so close that another five minutes would have his legs soaked in freezing sea water.

Ezra forced himself to travel the full five miles a demon could travel before having to touch the ground again. He landed painfully in a field. But he pressed on, thinking of Tom, thinking of Wileshire village and the Glass Horns Pub, thinking of home.

Each five miles was harder than the last. Each time he landed, he stayed a little longer, fearing the pain, wanting to give up and lie on the ground and sleep for a week. But he thought of Tom, and the worry he would feel if Ezra didn't return. He had to keep going, if not for himself, then for the ones he had allowed to care for him.

When he was only five miles away from the Glass Horns Pub, he laid in a field as the stars shone down on him. He had woken on the beach at dusk, but had he slept through a full night and a full day? Ezra had no idea of the time, nor the day. But he didn't care.

He was nearly home.

With one final push, and the fond memory of Tom smiling up at him, Ezra landed on his bedroom floor with a heavy thud. The light was still on, and he was faced with the familiar dark floorboards, until he scrunched his eyes and winced loudly, clutching his ribs and pressing his forehead to the floor out of fear that his skull would explode.

Someone gasped and the springs of Tom's bed rattled as he climbed off and crouched next to him. "Ezra!" Tom yelled, touching his arm.

Ezra then relaxed. He was in safe hands. The exhaustion washed over him stronger than he had expected. Once he had let go of his strengths, he couldn't find it again. He slumped on the floor with barely enough energy to keep his eyes open, let alone explain to Tom what had happened to him.

One moment he was lying on the floor, the next moment he was being hauled into Tom's bed by Tom and his sister, Neasa. Ezra stared up at her, wondering what she thought of him. Did she worry for her brother when he spent his time with a grief riddled demon? Did she disapprove of him turning up in such a state?

"I'm sorry," he choked, before his eyes closed again. He heard Tom asking what had happened again, but there was no way of explaining it quickly.

Ezra noticed his quick and wheezy breaths when Tom put a hand to his chest, telling Neasa in a horrified voice that his body was covered in bruises. They discussed whether to take him to a hospital, though they knew it would be a wasted trip.

"He's burning up too!" Tom said, and Ezra couldn't stand the panic in his tone.

"I'm okay," he whispered, forcing his eyes open. "I'll be okay."

Tom leaned over him. His blue eyes travelled all over Ezra's face, and he knew he must look as bad as he felt, though he tried to soften his features. "What do you need?" Tom asked.

"Rest. That's all," Ezra breathed as the heaviness took over his eyelids again. "I need rest."

"First, we have to clean him up," Neasa ordered. "Get him to the bathroom."

Ezra cringed from the pain and the stiffness to every joint, but he tried his best to move with them through the corridor and into the bathroom.

Cleaning his face hurt the most. His nose ached and stung, his eyes were throbbing, and chis cheeks were sensitive to anything, hot, cold, pressure. He was shivering again by the time they had managed to change his wet clothes into clean ones. Tom had struggled to clean dry blood from his hair and sutured his wounds with Neasa's impressive first aid kit.

By the time they returned him to Tom's bed, Ezra felt better. He wasn't cold and heavy from his wet clothes. He knew his body and injuries were tended to. But he was hungry, and desperate for water.

As Neasa desperately ran around the kitchen, Tom sat next to Ezra on the bed, riddled with worry. He softly touched Ezra's scuffed hand and whispered, "What happened?"

"I'm okay," Ezra replied. "Don't worry."

"How can you tell me that when you return like this?"

"I'm sorry."

Tom's hand stroked back hair from his forehead. "Who did this to you?"

"Demons."

"Why?"

"I don't have the energy to explain." Ezra heard nothing more from Tom and struggled to peel open his stinging eyes. Tom was still staring at him, but with a distant gleam.

"Okay," he said eventually, smiling to reassure him. "Focus on resting. You can tell me when you're ready."

Ezra had enough strength to eat a slice of toast and drink half a cup of water. Then he sank into Tom's mattress and drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like an eternity. All the while, Tom stayed with him, tending to his every need, fussing over him, and watching him closely and carefully.

Ezra was stubborn about his health, but Tom was stubborn with his caring nature. And Tom was the stronger one now. Ezra could tell him a thousand times that he was fine, but it fell on deaf ears.

Tom didn't care. He wouldn't rest until Ezra was comfortable. And that was why Ezra had fallen in love with him.

"Get some sleep," Tom whispered, with his own bags under his eyes. Ezra still didn't know the time, but he guessed the hour was later. He wondered then if Tom had slept while he was away. Had the nightmares poisoned his dreams again?

He hoped his trip hadn't been for nothing. He hoped that he had planted even the smallest seed of doubt among the demons. If they could only investigate on their own, he was sure they would all rise to the same conclusion . . . angels.