I nodded, but the unease lingered. Was I back? All of me? The question haunted me even as Sean's hands drove all coherent thought from my mind.

Breakfast was routine—pancakes, eggs, coffee strong enough to wake the dead.

Sean moved easily through the kitchen, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

The domesticity was striking against the backdrop of our blood-soaked lives.

Somehow, we'd carved out this small pocket of normalcy in the middle of a supernatural war.

I watched from the doorway, coffee mug cradled in my hands. Sean hummed as he cooked, some classic rock song I half-recognized. The scene felt like a photograph from someone else's life—warm, ordinary, safe. It sat at odds with the lingering sensation of wrongness that followed me like a shadow.

“You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna help?” Sean called over his shoulder, a smile in his voice.

I moved forward, setting my mug down. “Depends. You gonna burn the bacon again?”

“That was one time,” Sean protested, pointing a spatula accusingly. “And if I recall, it was your fault for being distracting.”

The easy banter felt rehearsed, like we were playing roles we remembered but couldn't quite inhabit. Still, I made myself smile, made myself reach for the plates, made myself pretend that I felt the comfort this scene should bring.

We stepped into the dining area to find Skye already at the table, arms crossed, their dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, expression unreadable. I startled slightly—I hadn't heard them come in, which wasn't like me. Before hell, I'd have known the moment they stepped through the door.

“So, the weird guy in the living room? He left. Said he had something to do.” Skye's voice was casual, but their eyes were sharp, watching my reaction.

There was a beat of silence as Sean and I exchanged a look. Skye raised an eyebrow, waiting.

I nearly dropped my plate. “You let Cassiel just walk out?” The words came out harsher than I intended.

Skye blinked, taken aback by my reaction. “He seemed in a hurry. Said something about 'heavenly business' and then just...” They made a vague gesture with their hands. “Vanished. Like, literally vanished.”

Sean cursed under his breath, setting the platter of pancakes down with more force than necessary. “Perfect. Just what we need—our own personal angel going AWOL.”

I ran a hand through my still-damp hair, trying to quell the spike of anxiety. Cassiel was our only real lead on what was happening, on what the seals meant, on what I myself might be becoming. Without him, we were stumbling blind.

Skye blinked, eyes widening as understanding dawned. “...Cassiel? Like, the angel?” Their voice rose with each word, disbelief coloring their tone. “The freaky guy in the trench coat is an actual, literal angel?”

Sean snorted, sliding into a chair. “Welcome to our life.”

Skye stared at us both, mouth slightly open. “You're telling me angels are real. Angels. With wings and halos and—” They stopped, shaking their head. “No, wait. He didn't have wings. Or a halo. He just looked like some weird tax accountant.”

“The wings are there,” I said. “You just can't see them.”

I watched as Sean set Roxie's food down in a ceramic bowl painted with tiny fish.

The Himalayan cat flicked her long, fluffy tail and began eating, entirely unimpressed by angelic affairs.

Her blue eyes, striking against her cream-colored fur, held more disdain than I thought possible in a non-human creature.

“At least someone's keeping their priorities straight,” Sean commented, scratching behind Roxie's ears. The cat purred loudly, rubbing against his hand before returning to her meal.

I watched the simple interaction with a pang of something like longing. But I felt disconnected from her, as if my return had made me a stranger even to Sean's cat.

“So,” Sean said conversationally, crouching next to Roxie. “We ran into a celestial being yesterday. No big deal. Turns out angels exist.” His tone was deliberately light, as if he was discussing the weather rather than a fundamental shift in our understanding of the universe.

Roxie, unsurprisingly, had no reaction beyond a disinterested tail twitch.

“You never did tell me how you found her,” I said, watching Sean with the cat. “What's her story?”

Sean's hand stilled for a moment. “About four years ago. Found her outside a vampire nest. She was the only survivor.” His voice was neutral, but there was an undercurrent of protectiveness that had always been there when it came to Roxie.

“Little fighter scratched the hell out of me when I tried to grab her.”

“She likes you now,” I observed, watching how Roxie leaned into Sean's touch.

“She tolerates me,” Sean corrected with a slight smile. “Mostly because I feed her.” But the gentleness in his hands as he stroked her fur belied his casual words.

Skye was still processing, running both hands through their hair in a gesture of sheer bewilderment.

“You're telling me the guy I saw—the one who looked like he'd never seen a couch before—is an actual angel?” Their voice pitched higher with each word.

“The guy who stared at my coffee machine for ten minutes like it was some kind of alien technology?”

Sean's mouth quirked in amusement. “That's the one.”

“He asked me if I was a 'new species of human' because, and I quote, 'your essence vibrates differently.'” Skye looked torn between outrage and fascination.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Yeah, he's still figuring out how to talk to people.”

“He's been around since before people existed, and he's still figuring it out?” Skye's voice was incredulous.

Sean stood, reaching for his coffee. “For a celestial being with that much power, you'd think he'd have picked up some social cues along the way.”

I took a bite of my pancake, savoring the sweet taste of normality. “From what I've seen so far, at least he's trying.”

“Trying,” Skye repeated flatly. “He told me my internal organs were 'arranged pleasingly.'”

Sean nearly choked on his coffee, coughing as he tried not to laugh. Even I felt a genuine smile tugging at my lips—the first one since I returned that didn't feel forced.

“To be fair,” I said, “from what Cassiel explained about angels, they see humans more as biological structures than people. Coming from him, that actually might be a compliment.”

Skye exhaled sharply, sinking deeper into their chair. “What the hell is my life?” The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular. They stared at the ceiling, as if expecting it to offer answers.

“Welcome to the club,” Sean said, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast.

Skye shook their head, as if physically clearing away the existential crisis. Their expression shifted to something more focused, professional. “Well, before I could fully spiral, Sterling called. Said he needs you in his office ASAP.”

The light mood evaporated. Sterling didn't call unless it was urgent, and “urgent” in our world usually meant blood and danger.

I set down my fork, appetite suddenly gone. “Did he say what it was about?”

Skye shrugged, but their casual posture was belied by the tension in their shoulders. “He was... terse. More so than usual. Which is saying something.”

Sean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He and Sterling had a complicated relationship—built on respect but frayed by Sean's recklessness during my absence. I wondered just how bad things had gotten between them.

Sean and I exchanged a look loaded with silent communication. The sudden shift from peaceful morning to potential crisis was jarring but familiar. This was our real life—stolen moments of peace punctuated by disaster.

“More angel nonsense?” I guessed, already calculating how quickly we could get to Sterling's office, what weapons we'd need, how much ammo we had left after the last hunt.

Sean's face was already hardening into hunter mode, the brief warmth of the morning giving way to professional detachment. “Maybe.”

Skye watched this transformation with a mixture of awe and concern. “You two are scary sometimes, you know that? The way you just...” They snapped their fingers. “Switch gears.”

“Comes with the job,” I said, not elaborating on the cost of that ability—the compartmentalization, the emotional whiplash, the way it hollows you out over time.

Skye shrugged, but their eyes were sharp, assessing. “Sterling said something about the seals. And a guy named Hawk.”

The name meant nothing to me, but I could tell by the subtle tension in Sean's shoulders that it should. Another piece of knowledge lost in the gap of my absence, another reminder of how much had changed.

“Hawk?” I repeated, watching Sean carefully. “Who's that?”

Skye's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. “That's the weird thing. Sterling seemed to think you'd recognize the name. Said something about your father?”

I went still, a cold feeling settling in my chest. My father had been dead for years, but the past never stays buried in our world. Especially not with the seals breaking, with ancient powers awakening. “He mentioned my father specifically?”

Skye nodded, studying my reaction. “Yeah. Said Hawk knew him well.”

Sean leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a frown creasing his forehead. “Never heard of him.” His tone was carefully neutral—too neutral. I knew him well enough to recognize the deliberate blankness. Sean was hiding something.

“You're lying,” I said quietly, not an accusation but a statement of fact.

For a moment, Sean looked like he might deny it. Then his shoulders dropped slightly. “I've heard rumors. Hawk is... was... a Hallow hunter. One of the best. Went off-grid years ago. Some say he died. Others say he found something that changed him.”