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"Do you understand the rules?" The Head Angel asked.

"Yes," Michael nodded.

"Good. Recite them back to me."

"I'm to tell him that my name is Michael Nesmith, I'm 21, and moving in down the street. You will contact me once a day and if he asks, you're my father, Warren. I'm to stay with him until he gets out of his spout of depression—which will take less time than it would with normal treatment, due to my being an Angel."

"Good," the Head Angel nodded his approval. "And?"

Michael took a deep breath.

"I mustn't form any sort of relationship with him or anyone else on Earth unless they are of our kind. I'm there to guard, not make friends."

"You listen well, Michael. Now come, it's time to clip your wings."

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