Heather Jackson, granddaughter of Athena and Poseidon, thinks she's losing her mind. For as long as she can remember, she's had a guardian angel. Only she can see him, and he won't tell her his real name, where he came from, or why he has to protect her. When she was young, everyone thought "Aww, she has an imaginary friend!" But now that she's too old to play games like that, people are starting to think she's brain-damaged. But is Angel something more than just an imaginary friend? Sparrowsong 23:04, March 5, 2010 (UTC)
It was a hot summer day. A two-year-old girl with blonde hair ran around outside. Her parents were on the front porch, visiting. They thought it would be okay to let the toddler play outside, since they were closeby.
The child's name was Heather. She couldn't talk very well, but she could run fast.
However, she didn't know to look both ways before crossing the street.
"Heather!" screamed Percy and Annabeth, running towards their daughter.
Heather sat in the middle of the road, twirling her hair. A car was just inches from her.
Her panicking parents ran towards her, even though they knew it was too late. Suddenly, Heather was pushed out of the way.
She looked up, startled.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" Annabeth asked through tears, hugging her daughter.
"Mommy, I saw an angel!" she exclaimed.
Her parents raised their eyebrows at her.
"Dare wuss this gah standin' in the midda of the woad," she explained. "He wuz kai-duh gwoing. I dink he was an angel." (A/N: "There was this guy standing in the middle of the road. He was kinda glowing. I think he was an angel.")
"It was just your imagination," insisted Annabeth.
But Heather knew that her angel hadn't been her imagination. He was real. This wouldn't be the last time he'd save her.
Eight-and-a-half-year-old Heather finished her dinner, went up to her room, and closed the door.
She sat down on her bed and pulled out The Tale of Desperaux by Kate DiCamillo.
Her eyes widened and she jerked up, dropping the book.
"Don't scare me like that, Angel," she whispered. She didn't want her parents to find out about their secret friendship.
Angel smiled, his ice-blue gaze resting on Heather. You could tell he was fond of the young girl. Sometimes, it almost felt like Angel was looking at Heather and remembering someone. (A/N: Hmm...who in the PJO series has ice-blue eyes? *Hint hint*)
"Do I remind you of anyone?" she quietly asked, twirling her wavy hair. When she was very young, it was honey-blonde, but it was getting darker every day. It was now medium brown, and she was sure it would be almost black by the time she grew up.
"Yes," he nodded. "This girl I was friends with as a kid. She was beautiful, strong, and really smart, just like you. And she had the same eyes as you. Her hair was blonde, though." (A/N: If you haven't figured it out by now, you're an idiot.)
"Hey! I used to be blonde when I was little!" Heather exclaimed.
"I know," Angel calmly said. "I saved you from that car when you were two, remember?"
"Yeah..." answered Heather, looking down and blushing. "Thanks for that, Angel. I seriously owe you one."
He ruffled her hair.
"Oh, no," he insisted. "You don't owe me one thing. I'm the one that owes you."
"Why do you owe me anything?" she questioned, looking up at Angel with big grey eyes. "All you've ever done is save me, be my friend, play with me, and listen to me when nobody else will."
"Heather, Heather, Heather," he whispered, looking out the window and into the distance. His blonde hair covered his face. "You have no idea."
"Why?" she repeated, getting frustrated.
"It's a long story," he responded. "Let's just say I'm your guardian angel. I have to protect you, no matter what."
She nodded, hugging him.
"Angel? How old are you?" she murmured.
He tensed up for a minute, unsure what to say.
"I-I'm twenty-three," he stammered.
The next day, on the playground at school, Heather attempted to make a friend her age. She walked up to a boy from her class and gave him a friendly smile.
"Hi, I'm Heather. What's your favorite show?"
"Hi, Heather. My favorite show is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."
"Eww, that show sucks," she commented, wrinkling her nose. "Do you believe in angels? I do. I see them all the time."
The boy gave her a weird look. She stuck her tongue out.
"Nya-nya!" she taunted. "I have my own guardian angel and you don't!"
She then sat down on the swings and talked to Angel until the bell rang and she had to go back inside. She heard everyone whispering behind her back, saying things like "That girl was talking to ghosts on the playground, do you think she's possessed or something?"
School ended. Heather ended up missing the bus home.
She whimpered, running around and looking for her parents. They were nowhere near the school.
She felt Angel give her hand a reassuring squeeze. She felt a warm glow in her heart. Sometimes, Angel felt more like a father to her than her real father did.
Heather gulped and crossed the street. She thought she'd reached her neighbourhood, but then Angel whispered in her ear "Sweetheart, you're going the wrong way."
She turned around and found herself face-to-face with a Fury.
She turned around and ran, screaming as loud as she possibly could. The Fury lunged at her, pinning her down by the throat.
Heather covered her eyes and prepared to die.
Angel tackled the Fury. Heather watched in amazement as he killed it.
"You're awesome!" she exclaimed once he was done, hugging him and burying her face in his shirt.
He ruffled her dark hair.
"Why couldn't you push it really far away from me, though?" she asked.
"I have to stay within ten feet of you at all costs, kiddo," he explained. "Preferably more like four feet."
She walked home, her guardian angel standing right behind her.
"Angel, why is the sky blue?"
"That's the color of air."
"It's the color of your eyes, too."
"Yeah, you're right."
Heather noticed a Hispanic man standing on her porch. She had never seen him before.
"Who are you?" she demanded, bravely confronting him.
"Nico," he responded. "I'm here to talk to your pa--"
He looked at Angel and froze.
"What is that?!" he gasped. He knocked on the door.
"Percy, Annabeth! Heather's being haunted!"
Heather ran away. She couldn't stand the thought of her parents finding out about her secret friend.
"Come back, honey!" her mother shouted.
She ignored her.
"Go home, now," Angel advised. "But stay away from Nico. He can see me."
"Why?" Heather wondered.
"Hades is his father," Angel told her. "He can see the dead."
"You're dead?!" she gasped. "You're a ghost?!"
"I thought you knew." Angel had a hurt look in his eyes.
"I-It's fine. Sorry."
"Heather, you never need to apologize to me. You can abuse me as much as you want, because I'm your guardian angel. As we both know."
Finally, her parents came to drag her back home. She just stared at the blue sky and Angel's blue eyes, and wondered why parents had to exist.
That night, Heather went to bed. Angel sat on the floor next to her bed, as usual. Heather slept for twenty minutes before waking up with a pounding heart and eyes the size of saucers.
"Are you okay?" asked Angel.
Heather shook her head, sweat and tears rolling down her face.
"I had a bad dream," she blubbered.
Angel crawled into her bed and wrapped his arms around her. She felt warm and safe.
"Angel?" she whispered in her young, soft voice. "How did you die? What was your name when you were alive?" Though she'd asked for his real name countless times before, she didn't expect the answer she got.
"Heather," began Angel. "My real name was Luke. First name Luke, last name Castellan. I was a demigod, like you. A son of Hermes." His eyes darkened when he said that.
No wonder his platinum hair and ice-blue eyes were always so familiar. She'd seen them on Hermes campers the few times she'd been to Camp Half-Blood.
Heather looked at him with surprised eyes.
"Luke..." she whispered, trying out his real name. "Luke Castellan."
"I was angry at my father," Luke continued. There was a pained look in his eyes. "I wanted revenge, and a bad person said he'd give it to me. I joined his army. I ended up getting possessed by him. This bad person would have taken over the world, and the only way to stop him was by killing myself. So I did."
"You killed yourself?" she gasped.
"Exactly the look Annabeth got in her eyes, when she was your age and didn't know something," he muttered.
"Annabeth is my mommy's name!" she exclaimed.
"She was that friend I told you about," revealed Luke. "My friend Thalia and I took care of her when she was little. We all ran away from home, and it was just the three of us all running away together. I miss that a lot."
"I miss being really little a lot," Heather reminisced. "Back before I was shy and couldn't make friends."
"Oh, I've been with you all your life," Luke told her. "I watched you being born. I made sure you weren't a stillborn. When you were a baby, you never cried because I slept with you. I could even sense when you were about to need a diaper change. You just didn't need to be saved from anything until you were a toddler."
"I love you, Luke," she declared, hugging him. Though she didn't know what a stillborn was.
"I love you too, Heather," he murmured, stroking her hair.
She fell asleep in his arms.
The next day at school, Heather was approached by some fifth-graders on the playground.
"Hey, freak," one of them snarled at the black-clad girl. "Stop wearing that emo sh*t you call clothes. Stop talking to ghosts."
She stared blankly at him, unsure of how to respond. She lightly touched Luke's hand.
"Or we'll beat you up!"
They pinned her down and started attacking her. She screamed in terror, but Luke pulled the bullies off her quickly enough.
"Are you okay, Heather?" he panted. He looked tired.
"Yes," she nodded.
Luke gets tired when he has to fight off bullies for me, she thought, troubled and sad. He does this for me. I should be more greatful. She hugged her friend before going back inside.
"Heather," he whispered into her ear. "I want you to tell the teacher."
She did follow his advice, and the bullies got in trouble. They ended up suspended from school for a month.
There was, however, one last thing Heather was unsure of. She wasn't even sure if she was comfortable asking Luke about it.
Why did he have to be her guardian angel? Why couldn't he be someone else's?
That weekend, Heather was in her room, talking to Luke, when the door opened. In walked her parents with Nico and a young girl.
The girl was very thin for her age. She had purple hair and jewel-blue eyes.
I've never seen her before, she thought. She looks about my age. Is she nice? I should say hello.
"Heather," her mother began, placing her hand on the other little girl's shoulder. Nico glared at Luke. "This is Maria. She's sad because her mommy just died. You should be nice to her, I'm sure she would love to play." (A/N: Yes, that Maria.)
With that, they closed the door, leaving Heather alone with Maria. There was an awkward silence.
"Hi, Maria," Heather greeted. "I'm Heather."
Maria gave her a weak smile, not looking up.
"Uhh...sorry about your mommy," Heather stammered. "Cool, you have purple hair!" She reached out and ran her fingers through it.
"It used to be this weird goldy color, but I dyed it," Maria explained. (A/N: She was born blonde, but her hair darkened to golden brown when she was older.)
"That rocks, I wish I could dye my hair."
"I could show you h--"
Maria finally looked up. She saw Luke and gasped.
"Wh-wh-what is that?!" she cried.
"Shh," hushed Heather. "That's my guardian angel. His name is Luke. You can't tell anyone about him. Anyway, how do you dye your hair?"
Luke just stayed close to Heather and ignored Maria.
The girls went up to Heather's parents' bathroom, took out some dye, and dyed Heather's hair.
"What color are we dying it?" Heather asked.
"Uhh..." Maria stuttered, reaching for the bottle. "Blonde." (A/N: Don't ask me why Annabeth, a natural blonde, would have blonde hair dye. Maybe she was trying to make it more of a bleach-blonde or something? *Shrugs*)
By the time they finished up, Heather's hair was reddish-orange with some dark bits. Luke covered his mouth, clearly amused.
They managed to hide it for three hours before Heather's parents found out and made her go to a salon.
She exchanged a glance with Luke, who burst out laughing.
"Sorry! I can't help it!"
From then on, Heather and Maria played together every single weekend, if not more. Maria even transferred to Heather's school.