"Miles?" Michael whispered, his voice losing all conviction.
He wanted to reach to his friend, to offer assistance, but he could not force his body to respond. Instead, he kneeled at his side, weak and helpless, as slowly Miles pushed up in to a seated position.
Miles looked down at himself, as though seeing his body for the first time. There were no signs of injury, no blood that would be his own. His hands were coated in the blood of the Fallen, who still lay at their side.
Michael remained silent, unsure what to say. There were no words of comfort, no assurances to be offered.
Slowly, Miles turned to look at Michael with his now unfamiliar eyes.
"I....I am human?" he said, a statement that was bordering on a question.
"Are you certain?"
Miles nodded. "I felt my essence leave this body. My tie to Heaven is gone. I can feel it as though it were a tangible thread, frayed and broken."
Michael shook his head quickly. "How..."
"It is a sin to kill," Miles said with surprising calm. "To be pure, and to kill another, is to be damned."
"But you were defending yourself,"
Miles shook his head slowly. "The reasons are irrelevant, my friend. The law is absolute. For an Angel to kill another, pure or mortal, is to be cast to Earth as human. My act has sealed my own fate."
Moving slowly, Miles shifted to push himself to his feet. Michael's hands reached out to assist, but quickly pulled back. Michael felt certain Miles would not want his help. It was his acts, his feud with the Verland boy that had caused the damnation of his closest friend.
Silently, Michael watched as Miles took stock of his new form. Gazing at his hands, still covered in human blood, the former Angel appeared calm. Curious, even. He moved to step forward, the movement awkward.
"It is a strange sensation," he mused, almost to himself more than to Michael. "The feeling of being no longer tied to Heaven. I feel...heavy. As though gravity is now my tie."
"I am so sorry," Michael heard himself speak. "Miles, I never wished,"
"It is not your doing," Miles said quickly, turning to Michael for the first time since mortality took him. "It was my choice to intervene. My doing in ending the life of the human. Please do not blame yourself for my fate."
A stinging pain touched Michael's eyes, blurring his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear them, before reaching up and wiping the back of his hand over his face. The skin came away damp with clear liquid, startling the Angel.
"What is this?" he asked, frightened.
"It is tears," Miles explained, always knowledgeable. "It is a expression of many human emotions. Your body is reacting to the situation."
Michael felt weak, his stomach rolling with an uneasy feeling. How could this have happened? How, when so close to the possibility of absolution, could such a horrific turn take them from their path? They were one day away from finding their answer, from possibly changing history. And now, no matter what, one of them was never returning home.
A high pitched cry called out over the field, causing the two to turn. In the distance, the figure of Anne Caison could be seen running towards them, her hand to her mouth. With her, was Ariel, keeping easy pace, as well as Jonathan, and several other Otherworld members.
Michael turned to Miles, immediately panicked.
"Say nothing," Miles said quickly. "Do not risk to perjure yourself."
"But,"
"Be silent," Miles urged, as the crowd converged on them.
Anne fell to the ground, at the side of the body of her nephew. Her hands came to his chest, her eyes roaming him as though not able to understand. There was a steady muttering of confusion, of cries and questions, all smothering Michael as he stood.
Ariel stepped to his side.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice grim. "I felt a change, as though a taught line were broken."
"I...he...." Michael began, when Miles moved to interject.
"He approached us, angry," he said quickly. "Demanding that we came only to find the Fallen of guilt, and that our purpose was tainted."
"But how,"
"He charged," Miles continued. "He brandished a knife. We believed his intent to kill us, and I reacted."
"You?" Jonathan gazed, his eyes wide. "You killed him?"
Miles expression remained blank. With a nod, he continued. "I was defending myself, and my friend."
Ariel, despite his usual expressionless face, appeared shocked. "But that means..."
Again, Miles answered the question before it was spoken.
"I am now mortal. Yes."
Another ripple of shocked voices and gasps slipped over the ground, all eyes turning to the former Angel. Michael felt cold, as though his body made of ice. Miles was surprisingly controlled, despite the fact that in the last several minutes he had been attacked, fought, murdered another, and turned human. It was all so much, Michael could not understand.
Turning to place himself in front of Miles, Ariel's voice was low.
"Was this provoked?" he asked. "Was there anything said or done to bring this upon you?"
Michael looked to Miles, immediately fearful. He knew the answer was yes. He knew his relationship with Harper, while not something Xander knew definitively, was the catalyst for the attack. It was coupled against Xander's own rage, his impotence and his hostility, but none of that matter. To answer the question, would be to condemn them both.
With a face empty of emotion, as though nothing had changed other than the color of his eyes, Miles shook his head. "No, my Lead." He lied. "There was no provocation. I fear this to be merely an act of one Fallen, who had succumbed to his own fears."
Michaels eyes widened in shock. Staring in disbelief, he was thankful that Ariel seemed to have no interest in him. The pure could not lie, and yet, Miles had fabricated the context of their situation.
But then he remembered...Miles was now mortal. No longer was he bound to truth and purity as of Heaven. As a human, he could now lie without impediment.
And it would seem, he was rather good at it.
With an exhale, Ariel hung his head.
"I am sorry, my friend. I fear there is nothing I can do to change your fate,"
Miles was quick to interject. "It is not of your doing, Lead. I hold no one else accountable for my actions. While unfortunately tragic, for the case of the Verland boy, I do not pretend to be a victim regardless of the circumstance. It was my actions. My punishment. And I will accept it with grace."
Ariel's lips thinned in a grim line, as he offered Miles a nod of acceptance. Slowly, he turned to Michael.
"What of you?" he asked. "Did the boy move to attack you?"
Regaining his composure, Michael nodded. "He did."
Ariel shook his head. "This is difficult. Surely, there will be more questions raised. Tensions here are at an all time high. This will only exacerbate them further." Seeming to consider his options, Ariel glanced to Miles. "You may continue to stay at the Angel residence, Miles. At least until the verdict is released."
"Thank you, Lead," Miles offered with a respectful bow.
Turning back to Michael, Ariel's face was stern. "You did not commit a crime here, Michael. But you were a part of it. It is of the law that you must return to Heaven. To remove yourself from further influence."
Michael stepped back as though punched with the same force of Xander's fist.
"Why?"
"It is the law," Ariel said with a shrug. "If an Angel is witness to a crime upon humanity, whether directly involved or not, they must return to Heaven as to not further risk their purity. It is beyond my control."
The panic that gripped Michael rippled through him like a coating.
"When?"
Ariel was quiet, but only for a moment. "I can allow you two days," he said with finality. "Two days to say your farewells, both to the community, and to Miles. But I cannot give you any longer. It is already pushing the limits of my power to grant you this."
Michaels breath was ragged, his eyes unable to focus. He felt lost, as though everything had been pulled from under him.
Two days. He had two days before he would be returned to Heaven. Only two days to figure out what to do, and whether Harper would be at his side.
"Will you accept this with grace?" Ariel asked when Michael had yet to respond.
Slowly, he regained his composure, hoping that his frantic state would be attributed to the situation, and not his secrets. Standing straighter, he stood the stance of the pure, clasping his hands at his back.
"I will," he confirmed with a nod.