Well, here's a somewhat revised version of the story so far. I've added a few little scenes for a little more flavor and background. I've hit a snag in my thought process so it's going to be awhile before more gets up. Roswell High belongs to Melinda Metz. Gargoyles belongs to Disney. I'm doing this for my own sense of demented pleasure and the people who actually like the story. Please read and review. Enjoy the slightly revised version of "Following Darkness Like a Dream."
Half an hour after sunset, he settled himself into the booth by one of the full-length wall windows. He glanced around the Crash-down Café, searching for the familiar amber face among the newly awakened teen gargoyles, but she apparently hadn't come down from the rooftop yet. He gazed out the window and smirked as a pair of gawking human tourists passed by. Roswell was the only place he could think of that knew about the existence of gargoyles and actually accepted them into human civilization. Hell, they believed that aliens walked among them, why shouldn't they integrate gargoyles into their families, which probably saved them from a load of trouble. The town made sure that Roswell's other little secret didn't cause uproar. Most of the tourists went away truly believing that they had seen an alien. Either that or a very intricate costume. As far as he knew, the world was still ignorant about the actual existence of gargoyles.
Musing, he stared at the dim reflection of his face. Some of the female gargoyles called him a Fairy prince because of his appearance. Emerald green skin. Golden hair. Pale blue eyes. He rubbed his doubly spiked brow ridges while pondering why some high school human girls would flirt with someone so inhuman. He had already answered that. The people had accepted the gargoyles and the thought of aliens. But would they, would she…
"Maxwell. You're dreaming again. Need I remind you how dangerous that is?"
Max spun to glare at his friend. He hated when Michael snuck up on him like that. He could always read his mind, too. Had Michael figured out a power they had that he hadn't?
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the high and mighty Archangel tonight?"
He smiled as Michael's fanged half-smirk turned into a frown. Michael hated that nickname, but how could Max not peg him with it? Michael looked like the devil incarnate and his "rebel without a cause" attitude didn't help any. He was the kid that all mothers warned their daughters about, at least on the outside. His skin was brick red and from each temple, long horns curled over his spiked black hair. Under the horns, his pale gray almond-shaped eyes mischievously burned. His wings furthered the fallen angel look. They were large, soft, bronze-feathered wings, not the usual bat-like ones. They were like hers, but darker…
"You know I'm telling the truth, Max. We can't get involved with anyone here. Remember, you were the one who used to lecture me and Isabel."
"Isabel and me."
"Whatever. But you know that this can't work. I mean she's a nice girl and all, but have you ever even talked to her outside of class?"
"Where is Izzy, anyway?"
"She's with the in-crowd at the club. Apparently hanging with her big bro and his buddy while they mope over girls isn't totally styling."
Then, talking to her friend, she entered the café and perched on the counter. Her raven hair cascaded over her amber shoulders and creamy feathered wings and pooled into her lap. A halo of small horns crowned her forehead and jutted out of her high cheekbones. If he spaced out enough, he could almost see a golden glow around her and hear the soft singing of doves and heavenly choirs. He sighed and leaned against the table.
"You're doing it again Maxwell. Liz is off limits."
"There's nothing wrong with looking, is there? Or would you like to have a lecture about staring at Maria?"
Michael's cheeks actually turned a deeper shade of red as his head whipped around to focus on the window.
"Like you said. There's nothing wrong with looking," Michael mumbled. Max knew Michael would never admit that he actually had a thing for Liz's friend. Maria's pale blond, curly, shoulder length hair set off her dark blue skin. She had no distinguishing spikes or horns, which was odd for a gargoyle. Max was rather surprised that Michael felt something for her. She could be a complete ditz sometimes and was into all that new age feelings and aromatherapy stuff. She was completely different from Michael.
Two shouting humans shook Max from his thoughts. They were obviously arguing over something and it wasn't going to end with them hugging and making up. Max and Michael got up at the same time, but with different interests. Michael grabbed Max's arm as he moved towards the fight.
"It's time to bolt, Maxwell."
"But what about the fight? Serve and protect! It's the gargoyle way."
"We're not really gargoyles, Max," Michael hissed. "It's time to stop living in your fairy tale. Wake up, before it's too late."
A shot rang through the commotion and everything proceeded in slow motion for a moment. Her creamy wings created an ivory aura as Liz fell behind the counter. Maria screamed and leapt after her friend.
"Don't even think about it! She'll be fine and the dawn will heal her. She doesn't need your help."
"Oh my God! Liz! There's so much blood! Somebody help!" Maria yelped.
"No, she's dying. I have to heal her now. She'll be dead by dawn."
"And what about Isabel," Michael argued. "You think she'll be all fine and dandy about this. The government or God knows who will be knocking down our door tomorrow morning, ready to cut us apart. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a lab, just to play hero?"
Maria was still crying behind the counter, whimpering for help. The two humans rushed out the door, nearly knocking Max and Michael off their feet.
"You go get the bad guys, Michael. I've got to save the girl."
Max pulled away from Michael and leapt skillfully over the counter.
"Maxwell, you're fucking insane…"
"Do it now!"
Max bent down behind the counter as Michael sprinted out the door. Pooling onto the floor, blood bubbled out of Liz's stomach. Max surrounded Liz with his dark green wings, creating a barrier between them and the outside world. Maria pounded on his left wing, her hoarse voice hissing pleas and threats. He ignored the distraught gargoyle and focused on Liz. First, the bullet. As his left four-taloned paw melted to a slender five-fingered hand, he placed it on her wound. He closed his eyes and willed the sides of the puncture to widen slightly. He winced as Liz gasped in pain. The chasm was wide enough now, and he called the bullet to his hand. He grabbed the metal pellet, after it escaped the flesh, in his right hand. Then, he focused on Liz's cells. He didn't know how to really describe what he was doing. One by one, he summoned the damaged cells back to life, knitting them together into whole tissue, muscle, and skin. He slowly realized the new tugging on his right wing that now accompanied the beating on the left.
"Hurry up! The ambulance is almost here. It's time to go! Now!"
Max looked at the healed wound, the unmarred skin, then at Liz's face. Her fanged mouth and dark eyes gaped wide open.
"How…" she mumbled, awestruck.
He put his morphed-back talons to her lips. "I'll explain later." He scanned the counter and picked up a Ketchup bottle. He crushed the glass bottle, pouring the contents onto her stomach. "You were startled and broke the bottle when you fell. You got that Liz?" She slowly nodded her head as Michael pulled Max to his feet.
"Are you done now, lover boy?" Michael asked angrily as he dragged Max out the door. The paramedics entered as they exited the café. Max glanced back to see Liz standing up, holding the broken Ketchup bottle.
"I'm fine," she gasped. "I was startled and spilt Ketchup all over myself. Really, I'm fine." Her eyes searched his, confused. Michael continued to drag Max up to the roof. The police pulled up as they scaled the building.
"Great! Are you happy now, huh? If we live to see tomorrow, Izzy and I will personally kill you." Michael leapt off the backside of the two-story café, gliding away from the developing crime scene. Max glanced at the scene, watching Sheriff Valenti exit his car and stride into the small restaurant. Sighing, Max followed Michael's flight route.
"Isabel's going to kill me."