�Trowa Barton, philanthropist, billionaire and former circus performer passed away yesterday at the ripe old age of ninety. He will forever be remembered as a great man who devoted his entire life to charitable causes. A memorial will be held tomorrow in remembrance of one of the greatest humanitarians of all time.�

Quatre looked down at the newspaper solemnly.

�Don�t worry Trowa.� he said. �We�ll both come back and find each other again.�

He looked at the earth as if wanting to make sure that everything was fine and glanced up at the sky as he slowly ascended into the heavens.

Decades later, in a large house somewhere north of the city, a boy could be seen seated on a large dining table. A look of boredom covered his features as he swirled the mashed potatoes on his plate. He was starting to doze off when he realized that his long, thick, brown bangs were touching his dinner.

�Trowa! Finish your dinner and stop playing with your food.�

Much to his father�s dismay, the statement was blatantly ignored.

��and try sleeping earlier tonight. You�ve been spending too much time decorating that tree of yours. Why don�t you just put those regular ornaments and be done with it?�

�No! It has to be special.� the boy answered, his voice increasing in volume.

�Stop trying to make that tree so perfect and stop trying to be so picky about what you put on it. If you don�t, you�ll never finish.�

�Leave me alone dad! You just don�t understand.� By this time the boy was screaming.

With that said, he stalked off to his room, leaving a disappointed father and a crowd of baffled servants behind.

�That little brat!� one of the servants whispered harshly to another. �He better learn how to respect his elders.�

�Keep it down. Mr. Barton will hear you.�

Intent on continuing to voice out his opinions, the servant that had expressed his anger quickly grabbed as much people as he could into the kitchen.

�Mr. Barton should do something about that child�s attitude.� he continued. �That�s the reason why he�s been getting too stressed out lately. I think that it�s just too much for a child to act this way.�

Hearing the frustrated voices coming from the kitchen, more servants came in to join in on the discussion.

�That boy is never going to learn if his father doesn�t reprimand him.�

�He always gets what he wants.�

�One of these days, he�s going to learn his lesson.�

The constant bickering continued on for quite some time until one of the servants let out a frustrated scream, obviously voicing out something that he had been keeping in for so long.

�He�s the son of Satan!� he exclaimed.

Gasps of surprise were heard from all corners of the room. Everyone had felt the same way but no one had ever dared say it. Silence followed the remark and the initial surprise.

Just then, a stout, cheerful woman entered the kitchen with a laundry basket on hand.

�Is that so?�

The uncouth comment had apparently traveled a great distance. She looked at her companions in disbelief.

�So, if he *is* the son of Satan then why does he dream of angels?� she asked.

All she received were incredulous stares that spoke more of their dislike for the boy than anything. They looked at her as if she had been possessed, used by the evil child as a tool for some sort of plan he had conjured up in his malevolent dreams.

In defense for his beliefs and suspicions, one man decided to speak up.

�Anything that comes out of his mouth is a lie and you know it. I bet he�s lying to you so that he could use you against us.�

�That is absolutely absurd! What did he do this time to make all of you think this?�

�Well,� the chef responded. �Last night, he came into my quarters with a match in one hand and a can of gasoline on the other. He said he�d deliver me to hell if I didn�t make him a chocolate fudge cake.�

�Oh, come on. He was just teasing you.�

�Is that,� the chef said, pointing to his charred hat on the counter ��exaggerating?�

A majority of the crowd sympathized with the chef. With their beliefs reiterated and somehow proved through the burned hat, the verbal assault on the boy was gladly continued.

It was starting to get late, however, and the laundry woman who was now laughing uncontrollably from the implausible statements she had been hearing had noticed this.

�Enough with the paranoia people.� she interrupted. �I�m sure he�ll grow out of it. After all, he�s only seven.�

She wiped a tear from her eye and composed herself.

�I think that it�s about time we get back to work. The little devil might be watching and he may just decide on roasting us for dinner if he sees what we�re doing.� she teased.

The timing was just right because just after that had been said, evil, childish laughter could be heard emanating from the boy�s room.

Without a second thought, the servants quickly dispersed from the group and went back to work.

****************************************

On the south side of the city, another boy could be seen sitting on a stool, lazily playing with some feathers that had fallen on the ground. A look of boredom covered his features as he sighed and blew the bangs off of his face.

�Quatre! It�s your turn. Come up here so we could set you up.�

The boy simply looked up in defiance at the lady who had called him.

�Why do I have to do this? I always play the same part again and again and again. It�s not fair!� he whined.

The lady looked at the pouting child with a hint of amusement filling her face.

�It fits you perfectly.� was the only explanation she could give.

�No, it doesn�t.�

It looked like he was definitely going to stick with his answer. He continued to sit on the stool with his arms crossed, ignoring everything else.

All of a sudden, someone poked his back, causing him to topple over the stool. When he turned around, he saw his friend Duo grinning while trying to undo his braid.

�Hey pal! At least you get the good part. Look at me. I have to be a girl.�

Duo mumbled something incoherently and suddenly realized the consequences of playing a girl even just for one play. He would surely be teased until the day he died.

Resolved that the consequences were too great, he decided that he really didn�t want to play the part. It was just too humiliating.

In reaction to his discovery, he quickly faced the lady from across the room and did as Quatre had done. He crossed his arms and it looked like he was not going to cooperate any time soon.

�What am I going to do with you kids?� the lady reacted and raised her hands in defeat. In spite of this, she decided to hold her ground as she explained the situation they were in.

�We can�t cancel this play. I�m going to get in trouble with your parents. The Christmas play will be in two days and it�s too late to change all your parts.�

She looked at Duo pleadingly and said �Do this for me, just once.�

The answer she got was not something she hoped for, but it was definitely something she expected.

�No! I am *not* a girl so I don�t wanna wear girly clothes.�

�Duo, we had to give up our only available girl because she had the flu. We can�t possibly haul her back here to play Mary when she�s sick. Besides, that long hair of yours could fool anyone.�

�But�� Duo started to open his mouth in response, but a hand quickly clamped it down from behind.

�I think Duo�s going to do it, or else...�

The owner of the hand gave Duo a quick look and then released his grip on the now furious boy.

�Fine then! At least you and Heero get to play kings. Why can�t I be king? Kings are cool. I get to wear a crown and I get to have lots of gold and...� he continued to babble, not caring if anyone was listening.

�Thank you, Wufei.� the lady said, momentarily ignoring Duo�s incessant talk. She then looked at Heero who was patiently trying to convince Quatre to cooperate.

�Why don�t you wanna do it, anyway?�

His question was firm, but he was not the least bit annoyed at the other�s reluctance.

�Umm, because I�m afraid of falling?� Quatre answered while trying to conjure up his most winning smile.

The smile didn�t work too well because even before he could protest, Heero had already lifted him from the ground. Heero shook his head in disbelief and secured the irrational boy on the rope that had been set up earlier. He pulled on it and signaled for the others to get ready.

When he thought that Quatre was secure enough, he screamed �One angel coming up!�

He pulled the ropes further and levitated Quatre while the still annoyed angel continued to cross his arms and mope.

****************************************

�I wanted black ornaments with red fire, not blue.�

The words were said with such coolness that the servants surrounding the boy did not know what to expect. Considering recent events involving their young master, they thought that it would be better that the boy express his anger rather than keep them waiting for his oncoming rage.

�Give them to me tomorrow.�

His demand was acknowledge by several nods from the servants save for one man who dared refuse the order.

�Trowa,� he started, taking on a fearless, but irresolute tone. �We will have to find a particular store that makes these custom made ornaments. I don�t think that we�ll have enough time to accommodate your request.�

The rest of the servants refused to affirm nor deny their companion�s statement. It was either they face the boy�s wrath now or they wait for the punishment later. It was apparent that the first choice seemed a lot more appealing than the later. At least, they thought, this would be finally dealt with.

�Really?� Trowa asked in response, now sounding a bit more cynical.

Nobody answered his question. It was getting obvious that nobody would dare talk so he decided to play with them a bit more.

�Ok. I�ll just wait like a good little boy.� he said.

He motioned with his hand for everyone to leave his presence. At that moment, audible sighs of relief filled the room. The servants, one by one, started to approach the door, very much eager to leave the child�s presence.

�Oh, and...�

They were so close to freedom, but alas, it was halted by the child�s voice.

�Burn in hell!�

Without waiting another second, Trowa quickly took out his Halloween mask and flickered on and off his fiery red lamp and cackled evilly, sending shivers down everyone�s spines. The dark room was filled with red, orange and yellow lights that only seemed to emphasize the existence of the atrocious mask.

The poor servants immediately bolted for the door as sounds of sadistic laughter reverberated through the thick walls.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, ongoing practices for the Christmas play were being held.

�Has everyone memorized their lines?� the lady from earlier, the director of the play asked.

A united �yes� from all of the children was the only answer she needed. Satisfied, she clapped her hands and signaled for everyone to take their places.

�Hey! Wait a minute!�

The startled director looked up to find out the cause of the distress call.

�Why don�t *I* have any lines?� Quatre said indignantly from his position. He was still dangling from the rope with his arms crossed while the unstable support kept him moving around and around.

�I�m getting dizzy.� he added.

�You do have a line, Quatre. It�s the best one too!�

�...That? ...but it�s so hard to say!�

�Hey, at least you don�t have to wear a dress!�

Quatre quickly turned his attention to his friend who had gathered with a group of other children. They were all looking up at Quatre curiously, eyes not leaving the sky circling boy.

�I *am* wearing a dress Duo!� Quatre exclaimed.

�Oops.� Duo replied and decided not to interfere any further when the director whispered in his ears �Don�t make it harder for us.�

By this time, everyone was staring whimsically at the irate angel.

�Ok Quatre. Try to say your line. We�re all here to help.�

Quatre was reluctant, but he didn�t have a choice since everyone�s stares were making him very nervous.

�Gworia in eshellshish deo.�

The director shook her head and signaled for the group to help out. So, as one, the children said �Gloria in Excelsis Deo.�

�Hmph.� was how he expressed his gratitude.

Quatre began another one of his pouting sessions and said �At least you all don�t have to be anormament.�

�Ornament.� all of the children said in unison.

So began another typical day of exhaustive rehearsals.

****************************************

�But I want chocolate. This is mocha. I *hate* mocha.�

Quatre was staring at the ice cream on his hands that was slowly dripping from its cone.

�C�mon Quatre. Mocha tastes a lot better.� Duo said, pointing to Heero and Wufei who were rapidly consuming their mocha flavored ice cream.

�But...� his words were cut off when his ice cream toppled over its cone and landed squarely on his shirt.

�Oh dear!� a woman exclaimed from her position behind the counter.

�C�mon dear. Let�s get you cleaned up.� She handed over the cone she was holding to her companion and brought Quatre to the back, intent on getting him cleaned up.

While the three were waiting by the counter, an irritated Trowa stomped in angrily with an army of servants behind him.

�You idiots better be right. I hate this part of town and I�m not coming back here ever again. After I get those ornaments, we�re leaving!�

He pushed the three boys who were blocking his way and demanded that he be served ice cream.

�Lady, I want three scoops of chocolate ice cream right now. Make it fast.�

The other woman at the counter was surprised at such a rude remark coming from such a sweet looking boy.

Before Trowa could even reach for his thick wallet, though, a small finger poked him, immediately calling his attention.

�That was not nice.� Wufei said while Heero and Duo silently agreed with him. Heero stared at the rude little boy and pointed his water gun at him.

�Yeah!� Duo agreed.

Doing as Heero did, he brought out his newest toy of destruction - �The Deathscythe� and began threatening the other boy with it.

�Your puny weapons can�t hurt me!� Trowa said.

He grabbed Duo�s toy, dropped it on the floor and began stomping it until all that was left were scraps, remainders of a once perfect toy.

�That�s funny. I think I�m crying.� he said with obvious sarcasm and laughed manically, calling the attention of everyone in the ice cream shop.

Duo tried to hold back his tears as he stared at his broken toy. Heero and Wufei did not approve of such malicious actions so they decided to take revenge on the other boy.

Heero pointed his water gun once again at Trowa, but this time, he pulled the trigger. Trowa�s face was instantly splattered with water.

�How dare you!� Trowa screamed. He immediately retrieved his newest state of the art toy. It was a thick, triple action machine gun, complete with missiles and a removable bazooka.

Heero remained calm and unfazed as tons of plastic bullets hit him. Wufei, on the other hand, was preparing for his attack. He was already starting to take out his plastic sword when he was unfortunately held back.

�I leave you kids for one minute and you all start fighting.�

It was the woman who had brought Quatre to the back earlier.

�He started it!� Wufei said and pointed at Trowa, intending to defend his and his friends� honor.

�I don�t care who started it.� the woman answered. �Everyone better make up right now before I get Quatre out. You know how upset he gets when he sees you boys fighting.�

Trowa just laughed at the woman�s statement.

�Oh, I�m so scared.� he said, mocking her. It was obviously a fake display.

�What kind of toy does your Quatre have anyway? What? Is he gonna wave his fairy wand and make bad little me disappear?�

�You�re very close.� was Duo�s answer.

Trowa was slightly caught off guard by the unexpected remark. He then looked at Wufei who had decided to join in.

�Well, he�s got magic �cause he�s an angel. He�s going to umm...� Wufei had to pause and think over what exactly angels did. �He�s, umm... going to give you to the bad people?� That was the best explanation he could think of.

�Liars!� Trowa exclaimed. �Angels are not real!� His eyes were suspiciously filling with unshed tears at the mention of the word �angel�.

�Slaves!� he quickly called out to his servants, hoping that his reaction was not noticed. �Buy me some ice cream and bring it to me in the car. I don�t want to see them anymore.�

One of the servant proceeded to the counter to purchase his master�s desire while Trowa stormed out of the ice cream shop.

Just as the door slammed shut signaling Trowa�s departure, the curtains to the back of the counter shuffled signaling Quatre�s arrival.

�This shirt is too big.� Quatre said as he struggled against tripping over the shirt he was wearing. Everyone immediately turned their attention to him, mouths ajar.

�What?� he asked.

What had caught the people�s attention was Quatre�s attire and how the little boy had positioned himself in front of the counter.

He was wearing a large, white shirt that covered his arms and reached far below his knees, making it look like a flowing garment. Behind him was a painting of flying ice cream cones and clouds. On the top were the words �ice cream cone heaven� with the �o� from cone the only letter lighting up. It was perfectly tilted to the side, making it look like a glowing, oblong ring.

When one would look from where they stood, they would notice that Quatre, in his white outfit, had wings and a heavenly ring around his head. He was positioned amidst painted clouds.

Everyone kept on looking from the closed door of the shop to the angel that stood by the counter. They looked back and forth and then questioned each other, noting that those coincidences were very, very disturbing.

Suddenly, a loud scream coming from outside caught their attention.

�I said chocolate. This is mocha. I *hate* mocha.�

Quatre smiled at the remark, clapped his hands together and looked at Duo saying �See? I told you so!�

****************************************

�So Mr. Barton, let�s start from the top.�

A young psychiatrist sat in a large, cozy couch while her patient reclined in a sofa to the side. His head was laid on a pillow and his arms were lazily hung on his sides. Not long after he settled down on the couch, his body started to fidget, as if wanting to release some pent up secrets that were threatening to consume him.

�My son.� was all he said.

�Ok, what about your son bothers you, Mr. Barton?�

�Everything about him bothers me. I think he�s been born to make my life a living hell.�

�Please explain further.�

Mr. Barton sighed. He knew this was going to be another one of those sessions where he would end up yakking about his son until his one hour was up. He was very sure that this psychiatrist had a purpose for him and that purpose involved lots and lots of cash. These sessions weren�t helping him and he felt that they might as well poke him with a stick until all the coins fall out.

�Ok. Fine. I�ll tell you, just like I did last time.�

He inhaled deeply and began his tale.

�Remember, I told you that he�s the demon�s pawn?�

�Yes.� The psychiatrist was not going to comment on that yet again.

�He causes so much trouble with everyone. He�s been threatening the servants, letting his pet snakes roam around the house to find their own dinner, terrorizing the kids in school, kissing all the girls, etc., etc. etc. You know what I mean, right?�

�Of course, but what�s so bad about kissing girl?�

�He said it�s the only way to shut them up. He has this little inclination to see them run from fear of him. You see, they think he�s a demon too.�

�Maybe he just wants attention.�

�I *do* give him the attention he needs. I get him everything he wants. I spend at least half of my day trying to do something with him. I even listen to his whimsical little dreams. For goodness sake! I even feed his obsession.�

�Now, let�s not get defensive Mr. Barton. If you�re ready, you can tell me about that obsession.�

Mr. Barton shifted his position. What else could he do but waste time talking to this stranger? He knew this was a lost cause but he still felt the need to come every week. Maybe it was a stress relief or maybe it was the only way he could get someone to listen to his frustrations about his little boy. Either way, he felt better that he was here. At least he could get something out of this little session which cost more than his last dental appointment.

�Ok� he began, feeling more inclined to talk for the remaining time he had. �Ever since he had that little �angel� dream, he�s been too intent on finding something.�

�What is he trying to find?�

The psychiatrist was also starting to shift in her seat. This time, the words that were coming out of her client�s mouth were not the usual complaints. This little boy they were talking about started to spark an interest in her thoughts. She stopped doodling hearts in her paper and instead, began to draw little angels all over her pad. It was still unprofessional, but at least it was a change.

�Everything! I don�t know. He tells me that he doesn�t know either. He said he feels that he�s missing something important. He keeps telling me or rather, demanding me to find it. How should I know what to do? I�m not psychic. I can�t read into his soul.�

�Ok Mr. Barton. Calm down. Tell me, in what way does this search affect his attitude?�

�If he doesn�t get what he wants, he causes trouble. You should see my servants. They�re too scared to even go near him.� He sighed and then continued. �I think they all need to come here and see you. We�re all psychologically impaired.�

The psychiatrist�s eyes began to sparkle. It seemed that this �doctor� heard the coming of a sack of cash. Yes, that new beach house she always wanted would just be a few disgruntled servants away.

She was starting to go into a long, blissful daydream when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

�Of course, I wouldn�t do that. If I did them I won�t have enough money to pay for everything else. I think they should just continue with their own little therapy. Maybe talking amongst themselves about my son�s terror is enough to calm them down.�

The image of the new beach house quickly disappeared into thin air.

�Oh well.� the young professional thought. �I can always find a ton of other disoriented people to come my way.�

�Could you tell me again about this search.� she continued.

�I�ve already told you about it.� he answered. �Anyway, I think our time is up. I have to get back to work so I�ll see you the same time next week.�

�Ok. It was nice listening to you Mr. Barton.�

She handed him the bill and smiled contentedly. �Same time next week.� she said as she lead him out the door.

On the other side, another client was waiting. After waving goodbye to the distressed Mr. Barton, she welcomed her new patient in.

�So how�s that Christmas play going? Are you still having trouble with that little angel of yours?� she asked.

****************************************

�Oh! the play, the play, the play. That�s all I�ve been worrying about these past few weeks.�

The play director settled herself on the couch, still warm from Mr. Barton�s session. She took the pillow in her hands and fluffed it to just the right feel. She wanted to make sure that she was going to be settled comfortably. After all, this was going to be another long session. She might as well feel comfortable while wailing on and on about her life.

�Let�s talk about something else then. We could always talk about that later. So,� the psychiatrist began �How has your boyfriend been doing?� Her eyes instantly sparkled with thought of long, flowing blond hair.

�I was an angel my ass.� her patient said. �He�s still trying to convince me that he was an angel once before. �A majestic guardian� he says. �Protector of the innocent� he brags. Now he says that his hands have been tainted with sin and he no longer deserves to go back to heaven. �

She scratched her head in frustration and ended up disarranging her short hair. It was bad enough that she had to face the onslaught of overprotective parents day in and day out. Now she had to deal with her bizarre boyfriend who will never let go of his little �fantasy� as she liked to call it.

�I told him that he better take out that mask of his when we go out in public. It�s just so embarrassing. What would people think if they saw you with someone in a mask? They�d think that either you were such a good soul to take care of a lunatic or� she paused and then continued. �that you were a lunatic yourself, hanging out with other lunatics.�

The whole time she was talking, her psychiatrist was not listening. Instead, the supposedly highly qualified doctor was drawing heart shapes and angels all over her pad.

During that process, she was daydreaming about a gorgeous, tall man whose long, silky blonde hair would envelope her in his love.

�Ahem.� The now irritated director said. �Maybe we should talk about something else.� she then suggested. �These talks about my boyfriend always seem to put you into some sort of trance.�

�Oh, I�m sorry.� was the answer. �Go ahead. You can talk about that play.�

�Well, like I�ve told you, I have this little boy in the play. Such an angel, but sometimes very stubborn. He has this little apprehension with playing the angel. He said that it bothers him to play the same part over and over again. I don�t understand what he means, though. He�s only played the angel for two years. It�s not like he�s been doing it his whole life.�

�Maybe he has.�

�What?� the director asked. �He�s only five. When would he have done the part aside from the play?� She looked back from her position and directed a questioning stare at her psychiatrist. Maybe the whole world was going crazy.

�Maybe he�s just like your boyfriend - an angel in a different lifetime.�

�Ok. You�re starting to scare me. Are you telling me that you believe my boyfriend? Are you insane?�

Her voice was starting to raise. Her head was aching and her veins were throbbing.

�Ok, Ms. Noin. I want you to relax. Stressing out is not good for you. That was just a little thought of mine. I�m sorry if it sounded strange, but it does make some sort of sense to me. Anyway, I�d like you to continue talking about that little boy.�

For the second time that day, another little boy had caught her interest. Usually her days were filled with boring complaints, but today was different. Two little boys with some sort of personality disorder was just what she needed to wake her up. It wasn�t all the time that she�d hear about these peculiar but interesting attitudes.

�Fine. He�s name is Quatre. I�m not trying to make him sound like a trouble maker because he�s definitely not. He�s really nice. He helps out with many things. He stops fights. He offers his assistance to other people. He defends his friends. You should see him when he�s attacked by bullies. He makes sure that his friends are safe and then launches a one man attack. Thank goodness he hasn�t been beaten up yet.�

She noticed that she was starting to relax. She thought that maybe these sessions weren�t so bad after all. Although it cost her a lot of money, she found out that having someone listen to you is a very good source of relief. Another thing that she had also noticed from the sessions was that she always felt at peace when talking about the little boy. His influence was absolutely amazing even when he wasn�t around.

�He�s such an angel.� she concluded.

�Maybe that�s why he doesn�t want to play the part.�

The director looked back again to elicit a response for such a confusing statement.

�Everyone probably thinks he�s an angel and he�s getting tired of it.�

It was only then that she realized the truth in those words. Maybe Quatre *was* getting tired of his image. Perhaps he wanted to be treated like the rest of the children. She couldn�t help herself though. Quatre just looked extremely adorable in his little angel costume. She just wanted to squeeze him until all the air was taken out of him.

�Looks like our time is up.�

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted. She hadn�t even noticed the time. She sat up from her positioned and thanked her doctor. This time, she was more than ready to face another day of practices. She felt more at ease.

She was handed the bill, which she quickly shoved in her pocket. There was no need to ruin her now contented mood.

Once Ms. Noin had left, the psychiatrist decided to do a little bit of contemplation herself. She was starting to really get drawn into her client�s relationships with those little boys. The first one was trying to find something. She wondered what that was. He had a dream about an angel.

�Wait a minute.� she said out loud to herself. �The second kid was an angel.�

She chuckled and then continued her thoughts to herself while waiting for her next client. Hopefully that client would have another interesting kid to talk about.

****************************************

�I can�t believe you lost my tree topper!�

Trowa was screaming to the top of his lungs.

�It took me years to find that perfect one.�

The servants were beginning to tremble with fear. Who knew what the little boy had in store for them? The snake he had set free the day before had attacked one of the ladies in her room. Her leg was now swollen and she had to stay on top of a table all day in fear of her life. She had said that she was going to quit as soon as she was able to run out of the house with both her legs. The poor thing had started to go insane and the other servants had to restrain her several times. The situation with the boy was not getting any better.

�I had to go to that ugly part of town to have my ornaments made and now you tell me that you�ve lost my tree topper? Where am I supposed to find one just like that?�

Nobody was answering his question. Fear was very evident in the atmosphere. The eerie silence only seemed to fuel the boy�s anger. What were they to do? It wasn�t their fault.

Those that were closer to the door were attempting to flee when suddenly, Mr. Barton appeared from the other side of the room. They hoped that he would act as their savior, saving them from the child�s imminent wrath.

�What is it this time Trowa?� he asked calmly.

�These idiots lost my tree topper.� Trowa answered, anger still apparent in his voice.

�We could always find another one.�

As soon as Mr. Barton had said it, he began regretting it. He knew what was to come next. He just indulged the boy�s obsession once again. They would have to go for another search until his son is satisfied. His son�s satisfaction wasn�t likely to happen of course, but it was the only way to keep him calm.

�Really?�

The once angered face turned into one of excitement. Trowa was glad that he�d been given another opportunity to find the perfect fixtures to his tree.

A thought crossed his mind, however. He would have to go back to the part of town he detested.

�Those kids.� he thought �They�re going to start making fun of me. How did they know about my angel, anyway?�

Those musings were suddenly interrupted by his father.

�Well, Trowa. What are you waiting for? Let�s head off to town.�

Trowa was very much reluctant to return there, but he felt that he must. Perhaps what he was looking for was somewhere close. Maybe that�s why he felt so warm the minute he had stepped out of his car into town.

There was something about that place that mystified him. He was going to find out even if it meant facing those kids and taking their insults about how he would be damned by an angel.

Damned by an angel. He still could not comprehend the idea. In his dream his angel had said that he would protect him from harm. Why the sudden change?

Bizarre as it was, he decided to find out the truth.

He was now resolute on finding out the answers to his many question ever since he had the enchanted dream. Those kids may be lying and his angel wasn�t going to do him harm after all. Yes, it was his mission. For once, he forgot about his hunting obsession. Maybe it was for the better.

When Trowa had finally decided to face the real world, he was surprised to find himself in a car with his father right beside him. They had traveled to the other part of town without him even noticing it.

�I�m going crazy.� he thought.

�Let�s go Trowa. This shop right here carries some of the best tree toppers.�

Trowa got out of the car, still reluctant to face anyone he�d come across. He felt that there was something strange going on, but he didn�t know what it was.

As he was starting to walk to the shop, he suddenly collided with somebody else. From the weakness of the impact, he had assumed that it was someone smaller than him.

He dismissed the idea of getting to know who the offender was and just continued to make his way to the shop. All he said was �Watch where you�re going kid.�

�I�m sorry.� was the reply.

No matter how much he wanted to turn to that person and punish that person for getting in his way, he found that he couldn�t. There was something about that sweet voice that just sounded too familiar. He felt like he had met that person in his distant past. It was conceivable that the events that had taken place after his dream had some meaning behind them. Was this boy part of the answer to the mystery?

He turned around to check the other boy he had hit only to find the owner of the sweet voice gone. He hit himself in the head and dismissed the event as one of his daydreams. He was definitely going crazy.

Meanwhile, Quatre ran back to his friends looking very much disheveled. Running away from the other boy had given him a lot more exercise than he had intended.

�What�s wrong Quatre?� Duo asked.

�There was this scary boy that I bumped into. He had the weirdest hair and I got scared so I ran back here.�

�Quatre. He probably wasn�t going to eat you. You better start relaxing.� Heero said.

�Ok.�

Quatre arranged his clothes and began to walk with his friends back to the small place where they were holding practices. All the while, he was thinking about the boy he had hit. He didn�t know why, but somehow, he thought that he knew the boy from somewhere before. Perhaps he had been part of his distant past. It was just all too confusing.

A few minutes later, he dismissed the idea as another one of his implausible musings and deemed himself insane. Where would one come up with such an idea anyway?

He followed his friends and decided that today, he was going to be a cooperative angel. Besides, Ms. Noin was starting to go insane herself.

****************************************

Trowa entered another store, not pleased with the results of his search. During the three hours that he had been walking around town, not once did he even pay attention to the massive amounts of objects presented before him.

There were numerous designs suggested to the boy and yet, everyone�s efforts were ignored with grunts, incredulous stares and distasteful comments. It looked like there was nothing that could ever please the boy who intentionally dropped the unwanted items on the floor, leaving the job of picking up the broken pieces to his servants. For all they knew, he might have found this activity a new hobby of some sorts, one that would reward him with unbridled pleasure.

He wasn�t with his father this time, however, for the man that was nearing insanity was tired from the walking and the constant whining that had been going on. He therefore opted to stay in the silence of his car to relieve his mind of the onslaught of terror his son was putting the whole town through.

He was almost close to his blissful dreamland of childless fantasies when he was suddenly awakened by the voice of a terrified and breathless servant.

�Mr. Barton,� the servant called out, supporting part of his body with his arms on his knees. �Trowa�s gone out of control. He�s at one of the stores breaking everything on the shelves. We can�t stop him and the owners said that they�d call the police if he doesn�t calm down.�

�What?� Mr. Barton asked in surprise. �He�s a mere boy. What do you mean the police? He�s not causing *that* much trouble, is he?�

The servant answered by turning his eyes downward, wanting to say yes but hoping that he didn�t have to.

That look, however, was enough to convince Mr. Barton to stand up from his comfortable position and head towards his obnoxious son.

Inside the store, Trowa was becoming hysterical. He was screaming to the top of his lungs as he threw different items on the floor, pleased at the variety of sounds the shattered porcelain items produced. Some shattered into the tiniest pieces, others only cracked a millimeter, while the rest remained intact and unscathed. The ones that had escaped with the least damage, however, were not as fortunate because after finishing off with the delicate ones, he proceeded to those stubborn ones and smashed them even far worse than the first. It was, indeed, soothing and entertaining for the boy that reveled in the self-caused destruction surrounding him.

At least, that was what everyone had assumed. In truth, he was actually frustrated. He was frustrated and infuriated at the thought that his search had been hopeless right from the start. Having no knowledge of what exactly he was searching for had been a very clear sign and now, he was facing reality.

His dream did not interpret into anything in particular. They were but images, fogged images of his ideals, which he didn�t even confirm existed. All these ideals, he assumed, were just part of his wild imagination. They were all irrational and untrue, childish fantasies of what may have been.

His brush with the smaller boy had brought up some hints as to what he was searching for, but it created too many conflicting thoughts that proved to do more harm than good. Trowa felt that he was almost there, close to something and yet, this something remained out of his grasp.

He decided that now would be a good time to end his search. He was going to stop looking for that perfect ornament, that perfect tree topper, that perfect someone or something that had plagued his thoughts for so long.

It was the end and he didn�t care if he brought down everyone with him. In fact, he felt a lot better knowing that he was destroying them in the process. That was right. Everyone had to experience hell like he had ever since his dream.

�Trowa, stop this madness this instant!� was the last thing Trowa heard his father yell before a stray item hit him on the head, rendering him unconscious.

People from all over town heard of the ongoing commotion. It was the talk of town that day although the other talk of town had not been forgotten. It was the day the Christmas play was to be held and everyone was excited to see the results of the children�s month long practices. So, while the noise was building outside, the children were having their final rehearsals.

�Are you okay, Quatre?�

�It�s too hot up here!� the dangled angel complained from his position high up. He was still strung from a rope, but this time, he was positioned in front of a small window with the sun�s light striking him.

�Just hold on dear. You won�t have to stay there long.�

�But I�ve been here all day!�

�We�re almost done. We just need to make the final adjustments to the background, and you�re part of it.�

�But why do I have to be in the sun?�

�We�re using natural light, honey. Unless of course, you want us to put the lights directly on you.�

The rehearsal went on in the far corner of the room with the boy being ignored for the time being. So there was Quatre, basked in the sun�s light, bored and feeling the sun�s warm rays hit his pale skin.

Quatre sighed and grabbed for the window, looking down and out at what was going on while he was preoccupied with his job.

Something peculiar was going on, he noticed. There was some kind of disturbance coming from the store across. Multitudes of people swarmed the place as Quatre tried to decipher the source of everyone�s attention.

He spotted a large man coming out of the store, carrying what looked like a younger person. The first thing that came into view were tiny feet in fancy shoes, followed by legs covered in brown pants. Quatre desperately wanted to see who the person was although he didn�t know why.

Perhaps he wanted to see the weird haired boy again because there was something nagging him about the person.

He lost his grip on the windowsill, however, and dangled back into place.

�Quatre, stay still next time and stop looking out the window. The rope looks like it�s going to break apart if you keep on moving.�

�Hmph!� Quatre said in response and looked at his friends who were now in their final costumes, finished with their final practices. They, in turn, looked up at their friend, the grumpily hanging ornament.

Outside, the noise had died down and the immensity of the crowd that had occupied the streets a minute ago were now disappearing.

Trowa was starting to come back into consciousness and noticed that he was being carried back to the car across the street by one of his servants.

�Eww!� he exclaimed as he jumped down from the man�s hold. �Dad, why is this gorilla putting his ugly hands on me?�

His father looked at him, exasperated.

�Son, you�ve caused quite a scene today and we�re taking you home.�

A loud and firm �No!� was the answer.

Mr. Barton was not surprised at his boy�s continual act of defiance so he decided to give up for the time being.

�I�m staying right here!� Trowa proclaimed.

Although his father was not one to argue any further, Trowa stomped his foot to confirm the statement and was again relishing in his glory and power when someone yelled at him.

�That is enough!�

Trowa was surprised at the tone given to him so he immediately looked in the direction of the one that had dared reprimand him.

The servant that had done so, knowing full well what the consequences were, was shaking as he continued.

�You can�t always get what you want.� he explained. �Someday I hope you realize that and suffer more than we�ve gone through with you.�

The boy didn�t respond quickly, but after a moment of silence laughed as if the statement were made as a joke.

�You�re fired!� Trowa yelled after, his voice filled with venom.

The poor servant walked away in silence and everything continued on as if nothing had happened.

People were starting to ignore the argument by this time although a few weren't able to resist the temptation to glance at the representation of evil itself positioned just outside the building. The play was starting soon and they decided that it was less important to find out the results of the arguments going on within the rich disgruntled family.

A few minutes later, the play started and the only people left outside were a few petrified servants, a now indifferent father, and a headstrong boy holding his position.

The play went by smoothly, free of any problems and Ms. Noin was very proud as she held the hand of her masked boyfriend. She became ever more excited, however, when Quatre�s turn came up. She looked lovingly at her dear little angel as he was lifted up, the fading sun�s light surrounding him completely.

Outside, Trowa raised his arms up in the air, looked up and mocked the heavens.

�Oh why, oh why,� he cried. �don�t you just give me what I want? Why don�t you just give me what I�m looking for?�

Inside, Quatre was very proud of himself as he smiled at the crowd and said �Gworia...�

He didn�t have the chance to finish because in an instant, the sky turned gray taking on strong winds that hollered on with great immensity, causing him to wobble. Within seconds, the rope broke and Quatre was flung off the window.

Everyone gasped as they watched the child fall. Quatre screamed, closed his eyes, and prayed that his inevitable end would be quick and painless. To his surprise, he didn�t land on the cold and hard concrete ground he had been expecting, but instead on some warm, soft arms.

Just when he thought that he had died and gone to heaven, just like everyone said he would, he opened his eyes slowly and came face to face with startled green eyes.

Trowa stood agape, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Was this what he had been looking for all along? Suddenly, memories came rushing back into him and he was reacquainted with those sweet distant memories.

�My angel,� he thought. �It can�t possibly be this easy.�

He forced himself out of his quiet reverie and slowly pulled himself back into reality.

�Dad, I�m keeping this one!� he called out.

Quatre couldn�t begin to explain how elated he was that someone broke his fall. He was shocked beyond belief, but upon hearing the remark which included him being kept like a possession, he immediately cried out in protest. There was something very familiar nudging his brain, though, as he did this.

�Hey! You can�t keep me. Let me go!�

Trowa ignored the protest and started ordering his servants.

�Make him clothes.� was the first command.

�What kind?�

�The one he�s wearing right now!�

�Hey, this is just supposed to be my costume!� Quatre objected.

�You�ll dress up like this for me everyday, right angel?� was Trowa�s retort.

�What? Wait a minute, I�m not...�

�He�s too skinny!� Trowa interjected. �Feed him! Buy us some chocolate ice cream, now!�

Quatre clapped his hands, momentarily forgetting the situation he was in.

�I love chocolate!� he exclaimed.

�See, I knew my angel would see it my way.� Trowa said as he realized just how conniving his plan was.

�You traitor!� Duo screamed from the building.

�Oh, and Dad, I�m keeping him in my room.�

�Very well, Trowa.�

�I said you can�t keep me!� Quatre exclaimed, again remembering what all his protests were about.

�Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.� he repeated continuously while trying to break free of the hold.

Trowa found it somewhat irritating and decided that he use his most effective method when it came to shutting girls up. He kissed Quatre square on the lips and his method was proven effective.

Quatre immediately withheld whatever else he was going to say and blushed furiously, looking away in utter embarrassment.

�That�s better,� Trowa said.

He turned back his attention to the servants and with a smirk, said jovially �I told you I always get what I want.�

His father couldn�t care any less if his son had picked up some lint on the sidewalk. All he cared was that the boy had finally found something he was satisfied with. He was tired but pleased at the way things had turned out so he decided that going back home would be the best option.

�Let�s go, Trowa,� he said. �Put him in the car.�

This time, Trowa complied without another word. He headed towards the parked car silently, the smirk still on his face as he carried his angel.

He was so lost in the image that he didn�t even hear the protests coming from the people in the building, although he did hear one familiar voice.

�Hey let our friend go!� Duo yelled while his two other friends stood beside him, silently promising pain if their friend was harmed in any way. Trowa looked up in return and stuck his tongue out.

�He�s mine now,� he said and continued walking.

Quatre remained silent, unable to utter a word, still stunned and blushing from the kiss he received.

Finally, Trowa reached the vehicle and as he deposited his long lost possession into the car, he bent down and gave the flushed boy another gentle kiss.

Quatre looked up into the mysterious orbs and watched as they turned from those with malicious intentions into those with loving memories of long ago.

Trowa smiled at him, winked and said �Didn�t I tell you I�d find you?�