(Story told from Billy's perspective)
Angels are not usually created from humans who have died, but rather, we are born in the Celestial City, and certain families were chosen to be Demon Hunter Guardians hundreds of years ago.
An ancient battle between the Celestial City, the Capital of the heavens, and Pandemonium, the Capital of Hell, occurred millions of years ago. Unfortunately, many demons and witches escaped and scattered throughout the earth, going into hiding during that time. The creator, known by many names, allocated different Celestial Gods to various places of the world to start life. You would have heard of some of them: Zeus, Odin, Ra, Shiva, Vishnu, Athena, Freya, Ganesha, Kali, Buddha, and the list goes on. Of course, many stories told today are mostly exaggerated, but they were all real at a specific time to help create and shape humanity.
Once mankind was created, these divine beings had to return to the Celestial City as humans started to thrive independently. They received free will and, therefore, became responsible for their own fate, though they still worship their allocated Gods today. Although they were not allowed to interfere with humans in any way, they were granted messengers to provide them with prayers from their followers and offerings bestowed at places of worship.
The problem came when demons and witches resurfaced, blending in among humans in plain sight and causing havoc throughout history. Think of big events such as the Battle of Bannockburn, the Battle of Thermopylae, Pompeii, the Yellow River flood, the Ganja earthquake, the Calcutta cyclone, World Wars One and Two, and many more—cataclysmic disasters that killed many humans in mass numbers.
By the 1400s, the truth was undeniable. Humanity wasn't fighting alone. Lucifer—fallen prince of heaven—found himself betrayed by his own kind. Demons had abandoned him after the war, hiding among humans instead of returning to Hell. It was then that the most unthinkable truce was made: Lucifer and Saint Michael agreed to send celestial warriors to Earth, training selected humans to hunt demons. A pact between light and darkness. The Demon Hunters were born.
But there was a problem.
Demons and witches didn't just hide. They adapted. They seduced. They bred. Their bloodlines tainted humanity, gifting their offspring with dark powers. And their numbers grew. Fast. Too fast.
So we fought back.
Guardianship wasn't just a job. It was an honor, a sacred duty. Archangels trained the strongest among us—Saint Michael, Gabriel, Raphael—turning angels into warriors, making them faster, stronger, lethal. But Earth wasn't like the Celestial City. Here, angels could die. And when they did, they never returned. That was the sacrifice. A lifetime on Earth, as mortal as those we protected.
To keep our legacy alive, guardian angels were granted something unnatural—we could reproduce with humans. A rare exception, but necessary. Demon hunters had to pass down their knowledge, their gifts, their weapons. If one walked away, they could sever their connection through a ritual. Their guardian would remain for two more generations before vanishing.
My family never walked away.
We were one of the original guardian bloodlines chosen by Saint Michael himself. For generations, we've protected the Goodwin family. My father, my aunt, my sister—they fought beside Wyatt, their human demon-hunting partner. My mother trained me from the moment I could walk, preparing me for war while forcing me to live a normal life. Humans couldn't know what we were. They never could.
Then, 22 years ago, everything fell apart.
My sister was murdered. My aunt, stabbed with a demonic blade designed to kill angels, held on longer than she should have, but the poison won in the end. Wyatt abandoned demon hunting, yet we continued to guard him. He never went through the ritual. He never stripped himself or his children of their powers. The Archangels weren't happy, but my father convinced them that Wyatt might change his mind.
Then there was me.
Angels weren't meant to make friends with humans. It was an unspoken rule. Unless they were your mate, you kept your distance.
I knew that. I lived by it.
But then, Bastian happened.
I was alone, as always. Sitting at recess, dragging lines into the dirt while the other kids ran around screaming, playing tag, laughing. I pretended not to care, but the loneliness was suffocating.
And then he sat down next to me.
He didn't run. He didn't scream. He didn't push or prod or pester. Just sat there, quiet, calm. He had soft blue eyes and a presence so… still. It wasn't forced. It wasn't awkward. It was like he belonged there, beside me.
"Why do you always sit by yourself?" he asked, his voice matching the gentle energy around him.
I froze. The rules screamed in my head. Stay distant. Don't connect. But something about him made it impossible to push him away.
I shrugged. "I like it here."
He didn't question it. Just nodded like that was a perfectly acceptable answer. "Want to do something? Ride bikes? Throw rocks at cans? I know a good spot."
It was so simple. So easy. And before I could stop myself, I said yes.
That was it. That was the beginning.
Every day, Bastian found me. We'd sit together, talk about nothing and everything. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all. And for the first time, I felt seen. Not as a guardian. Not as an angel. Just… as me.
Weeks turned to months. He never questioned my past. Never pushed. Never pried. He accepted me for who I was, even when I didn't understand myself. And in that quiet acceptance, my walls began to crumble.
Rainy days, we'd hide under the covered walkway, swapping stories. I learned his struggles, the things he never told anyone else. And I realized his kindness wasn't empty. It came from experience. He understood loneliness.
Before I even realized it, Bastian became my best friend.
The only one I'd ever had.
The only one I ever trusted.
And then my parents found out.