The drive to the apartment seemed to take too long. It had only been twelve blocks, but with the way Blaine's night had been, it felt like fifty. Once they pulled into the driveway, Blaine bolted to the door; Vince's tired, gasping breath huffed behind him.
Blaine juggled his keys and quickly unlocked the door, letting it swing open. “Come on.” He motioned to Vince who had barely had a chance to take a breather.
Once in the house, Blaine froze in the darkened living room. The only memory left of Lynsael was the base of the statue in the corner. Its small, granite stand still dusty from when Lynsael had broken free from its bounds.
“Whoa.” Vince stopped behind Blaine. “What the hell is that?”
“A statue,” Blaine said. He stepped close to the base. “Or what is left of it. Can you start reading that here?”
Vince paused a moment. “You gotta be kidding me, Blaine. You really think somethin—“
“Just do it, Vince.”
Vince mumbled, “Yes, sir” as he flipped through the pages, searching the page he'd been on. He stepped past Blaine and stilled just inches from the statue's base. Again, he began to speak in the language of the past, and again, nothing happened.
There had to be something missing. If this wasn't bringing Lynsael back, Blaine wasn't sure what would. There was nothing left for him to try until he remembered the last feather on top of the dresser; the feather that hadn't disintegrated.
“Wait,” Blaine commanded and Vince stopped.
He dashed into the bedroom. Up on the dresser, leaned against a picture of his parents, was the feather in its perfection. Blaine stilled a moment, he couldn't bear to see the last remains of Lynsael turn to ash like the rest of the feathers. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and touched the fine hairs. For a moment, he couldn't breathe as he waited for it to disappear, but when nothing happened, he picked up the feather and embraced it in the palm of his hand.
“This might work,” he said in hopes, stepping back into the living room.
“What's that?” Vince flicked his eyes to Blaine.
Blaine approached the statue and set the feather on top of the base. He stilled a moment, and then ran his thumb across the scratched front where the inscription was inset. “You are freed,” he whispered to himself. “Solvo pro umquam magis.” Blaine turned towards Vince. “So that's Latin... you took Latin in high school, didn't you?”
Vince shrugged. “Hey, I dropped out after a half a semester. Fuckin lousy ass class, man.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“What the hell, man? Maybe a little bit, but that was five years ago.”
“Okay...” Blaine thought a moment before motioning to Vince. “What's the opposite of free?” After everything that had happened, he couldn't think anymore.
A curious look wavered on Vince's face as he began to come up with words from the top of his head, “Trapped, stuck, bound...”
“Bound. Is there something in your book?” Blaine approached Vince, and leaned over to try to get a look at the book in his hands. “Like how to trap someone, or something. Or maybe how to chain someone up?”
“Not sure if I wanna be part of your freaky, dinky thing, man.” Vince raised a brow, but began to flip through pages again. “There is this one thing I tried on Katy,” he snickered. “But, of course, it didn't work. Ah, here it is.” He stopped on a particular page, and ran his fingers across the text. “Can you turn on a light or something? I can't see shit.”
“Hit that switch behind you.” Blaine pointed to the light switch that led to the spotlight he had installed above the sculpture.
Once Vince flipped the light on, the pure white light shined on the remains of the statue, lighting up the entire corner like it had the same day that Blaine had released Lynsael. “Damn man, that's a weird place for a light.”
“Now read it,” Blaine commanded. He could only hope this would work.
As Vince began to read the words, Blaine felt his legs tremble. He'd been through enough; he just wanted Lynsael back in his arms. If anyone, or anything, came for him, they'd find a way to hide together. The raging beat of his heart thumped in his chest. He could barely keep still. The sound of a car horn wailed from outside, making him jump.
“What is that you are saying?” Blaine flicked his eyes to the book.
“Um,” Vince turned the page. “It's something like “I bound you to these chains of anguish—“
“What the hell are you reading?” Blaine snatched the book from Vince's hands. He flipped through the pages, the text written in the same language as the scratched inscription on the statue. A couple of pages through, he found something that caught his eyes. Slowly, he approached the statue, and focused his attention on the feather. “Vos es reus.”
A flicker of blue light extended through the feather, making it glow. The beam rose up towards the ceiling. Blaine found himself backing away. A loud crackle reverberated through the room, followed by streaks of golden particles forming through the air above.
“Holy shit,” Vince muttered. “What the hell did you say?”
Blaine dropped the book on the coffee table, his eyes wide at the sight of Lynsael's figure appearing in front of him through the streaks of light. Who cared what he said, his angel was coming back, and that was all that mattered.
“Blaine,” Lynsael's angelic voice echoed through the aura.
A smile spread wide on Blaine's lips. “I brought you back.” He stepped close to Lynsael, and extended his hands out. Blaine tried to touch him, but his fingers went through Lynsael's figure like he was a ghost. His heart dropped into his stomach. “What's wrong? It's not complete.”
He turned to Vince, who stood with his jaw dropped, the light sparkling through his eyes. “It's not working, Vince.”
But Vince stood frozen; eyes bright and in awe at what was in front of him.
Blaine flicked his eyes back to Lynsael, who leaned down and reached out his hand to Blaine's face. His features softened. “At least you've tried,” his voice echoed.
“Lyn.” Blaine tried to touch the lighted hand, hovering just above it, needing Lynsael's warmth more than ever. “What do I do? Please, tell me. I cannot let you go.”
Lynsael lowered his head. “There's nothing—“
“Blaine. This is my fate.”
“No it's not, Lyn. Your fate is here... with me.” Blaine lowered his hand. “Please, Lyn. I love you.”
Lynsael lifted his head, eyes bright with a smile on his lips. “I love you too.”
Blaine leaned in close, white particles hummed around him; he'd wanted to brush his lips against Lynsael's, but Lynsael cupped the back of his neck, instead.
“The words...” Lynsael began. “I've been waiting to hear.”
There was no way this could be it, Blaine wouldn't settle for this. He thought back to the words he'd read, those words spoken that brought Lynsael back. All he wanted to do was to wrap his arms around Lynsael, and make him his forever, no matter what Raz or anyone said.
He gulped and noticed the light beginning to fade. “No.” He attempted to clamp on to Lynsael's disappearing body. “Please. Vos es reus...” The last word he'd read from the book ran through his memory. “Volo.”
With the last word, Lynsael's figure began to reappear, and a loud pop crackled around the apartment with a bright, shining light. Blaine closed his eyes a moment, praying his angel had come back, and when he looked back to the statue, Lynsael was standing there, looking out at his paled hands.
Lynsael spread his full wings, feathers ruffled in the breeze. He met Blaine’s gaze with a smile.
“You did it. How did you—“
“Shut up.” Blaine hopped up on the base and wrapped Lynsael in his arms.
Their lips found each others, warm and inviting, and their bodies pressed up close. No one could break them free, not even Vince who began to stutter.
“Um, Blaine. What the fuck?”
He didn't care, let Vince freak out. Blaine had only wanted to speak those words to Lynsael for days, but this situation had put a damper on them. After he found the voice to actually say them, the tension had lifted from his shoulders. He had his angel in his arms and nothing would interfere with that.
The bright aura began to fade and with it, Lynsael's wings began to crumble. Black feathers fell to the floor, shriveled and disappeared until there was nothing left of the ethereal wings. Lynsael pulled away, but instead of breaking down like he normally had, he watched the last part of his wings break and fall to the floor.
“Lyn... you're—“ Blaine stuttered.
“I'm becoming human. You've bound me, haven't you?” Lynsael embraced Blaine. “Thank you. Now no one can come for me ever again.” He buried his head in the crook of Blaine's neck.
“Yeah,” Blaine sighed, his hand caressing Lynsael's dark hair. He supposed he had bound him, unknowing of what the spell would do, but if it meant they could be together without burden, so be it. Lynsael was his; Blaine would live in his guardian angel's arms. And Lynsael would live in his.