Over the last few years, if anyone was looking west from Crystal Point at sundown, they would have seen a curl of smoke rising up from just below Heaven’s Peak; a long straight plume from a chimney tucked in amongst the trees and beside the cold streams running down from the mountaintop, so far from the summer-only road that you would never think to get any closer by car. And all through the summer, at one of the pullover spots along the road through to Lake MacDonald, you'd see a black truck, and once in a while a grizzled old man in a padded vest and cowboy hat walking alongside the road on his own, muttering to himself as he plodded along.

Cain was far too old to be hauling his own food halfway across the whole forest. He was too old to be fetching water, fetching wood, fetching...well every darn thing. But Azrael was supposed to be his charge in a manner of speaking, and the food and the water and wood weren't going to just fetch themselves. The Lord might provide, but more often than not, Cain found He didn't quite offer door-to-door service.

He never had much of an idea when Azrael, the Angel of Death might decide to return. At one point, he’d disappeared for almost two months and Cain had been worried the snows would come on before his charge made his way back to the mountains. Death was, of course, everywhere, and there were times and places where he was needed in person to bring the dead into the ever after. And even though Azrael had taken on human form, he had not set down his duties, so every so often the Angel would saddle up Ryder, and head out into the world beyond. And, of course, miss supper.

Cain's stomach rumbled as he pushed back the pine branches that never failed to slap the back of his head. Supper was starting to sound like a mighty good idea, and he'd been smart enough to bank the logs in the stove, so there would still be some coals glowing by the time he made it back to their little refuge, away from the eyes of mortal men. It wouldn't be long before he could tuck into a nice bowl of beans. He had grown quite fond of beans in molasses. That was certainly human progress in his mind.

Of course, the morning would bring its own set of chores. He would need to see to the fence line, and there was a leak somewhere along the roof that he'd have to patch up. But for now, he thought as he pushed on towards the cabin, for now it would be nice just to sit out in the last hours of the sun with a bowl of beans and listen to the birds.

Though it was Azrael’s nature to learn from the humans, the where and how of it had not been clear, and so naturally the Angel had chosen this place. It was almost a full day of travelling just to get back to the highway, but Cain was not about to question his charge's choices.

He climbed the last little rise that led down to the meadow beyond, then closed his eyes, wanting to see the little oasis here clearly, as if for the first time.

The cabin was close to one of the streams running down the mountainside. In spring, the stream was a constant, singing companion, and now, in late summer, it was a gentle murmur that reached Cain's little room at the back and never failed to lull him to sleep. It was small, but for one old man and the Angel of Death, who had drifted through countless centuries, it was enough.

 And of course, there was Infinite the hound. He launched himself from the front porch, rooping and barking and making a monstrous fuss now that Cain was home. He was far too large to be considered a typical breed of any kind, almost as big as a pony, and though he could easily have taken Cain's hand off in a single gulp, Infinite seemed perfectly happy to just bound along beside him, every now and then swiping his tongue against the back of his master's hand to let him know how much he’d been missed.

It was, as always, nice to be home.

*

Cain had just finished washing his pot and bowl and was getting squared away on the porch with his carving knife and a nice, rounded piece of wood, when he spotted a flicker of white through the trees, just before sunset. ‘Not even out among the living for a full day,’ he thought to himself as he shaved off another curl of pine.

It wasn't a good sign. How was Azrael going to learn compassion out here, out in the middle of nowhere? Cain had asked his charge more than once about being out in the wilderness, even though he himself hated the thought of living anywhere closer to civilization. The whole world, in Cain's opinion, had only gotten louder the longer it went on. But that wasn't the purpose of their time here—there was time enough for solitude and reflection in Heaven. This was supposed to be a time of action in the world of men.

Horse and rider came through the last break of trees, and Cain watched his charge nudge Ryder into a canter. He had a feeling that Azrael had probably driven the horse hard back along the deer run from the road, and the image in his mind, of Death fleeing from men, made him sigh. None of this was going as planned. He raised his hand to wave even as Infinite tore across the meadow again, whoofing and pawing at Ryder's side to say hello to his second favorite person in the world. Azrael brought Ryder into the small pen Cain had built a few days after they had first arrived.

"You're back early!" Cain called across the field.

Azrael nodded, looking out over the slope to the forest and lake below, his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat. But Cain knew his charge was barely here with him. Out in the world, souls were waiting to have their mortal coil severed. The work, the grim work, still had to go on.

"My stomach hurts," Azrael said. Cain heard it rumble all the way from the porch.

"It's hunger, Azrael. We've been through this before. You need to eat."

Azrael nodded again, watching the clouds scrape the mountaintops, far off.

"And you need to brush down Ryder."

"Why?"

Cain sighed, and got up with an inward groan as his bones shouted at him to just rest a little while longer. And he would, but this needed to be dealt with now. He crossed to the pen and took Ryder's bridle in his hand, stroking the bay's neck. Ryder nickered, his ear flicking a little petulantly.

"Because he's mortal, and he needs taking care of. Just like you need to take food, and put it into your body. Otherwise you'll suffer."

Azrael only nodded.

"Azrael," Cain said sharply. 

The Angel of Death looked down at him. If it weren't for the fact that Cain had been sent to watch over the Angel in this time of penitence, he would have folded in on himself from those eyes, from that look, which had in it the alienness of the divine. As if he, Cain, was just an ant, a talking, shouting ant. But he had a job to do here, damn it, and it was going to get done if he had to drag the Angel kicking and screaming.

"Azrael," he said again, calmly now. "Why were you sent to earth?"

The Angel frowned. "To learn compassion for men.”

"And so you were given this body, and Ryder to look after. How can you feel anything for others if you can't even pay attention to your own needs?"

"So I must eat?"

Cain sighed. "First, brush down Ryder. Check his shoes for stones. Then, you sit. And you eat."

"For how long?"

"For as long as it takes, Azrael. Until you're finished."

Azrael slid out of the saddle, landing lightly on the ground. In some ways, Cain was glad the Angel hadn't gone out in human form too often since they had arrived. He would have had a lot of explaining to do. The way he walked, even while doing the simplest things like dismounting a horse, he looked...uncanny. Like a sliver of lightning, every gesture, every motion seemed far too slow for the grace that was guiding it. Even if he was sprinting, his body just never looked...fast enough.

Ryder nudged against Azrael's shoulder, and the Angel patted him absently. The horse had been terrified of him on the first day, and Cain couldn't help but take it as a good sign that the animal had bonded well with him over the last few months. On the other hand, Ryder refused to listen to nearly anything Cain asked of him and had developed a taste for the fence posts.

"I will leave again, after eating," Azrael said.

"Not before we talk, Azrael." Watching the Angel eat was always disquieting. Cain could tell that every part of the process—tasting, chewing, swallowing—was being deliberated on, which was still a bit of progress. It had taken him months to get used to being a spirit attached to a mortal shell. "I need you to think, Azrael, about why you need to learn compassion."

"To please my father," the Angel said, automatically.

"Is that all?"

"What is better than pleasing God?"

Cain had to think on that for a moment. There were times he wasn't sure if Azrael was being deliberately dense, or if this was just part of the entire reason God had sent him down.

"When you go out, tonight," Cain continued, "I want you to remember who you see. Remember who they were, and why you were called to take them away."

"I always remember," Azrael said. "It is not necessary for you to say so."

"That's not what I mean. I don't mean their name, and the time of day you collected them. I mean look at them. Really, really look."

Azrael nodded. If it weren't for those blue, flat uncaring eyes, Cain could swear the Angel was as innocent and naive as a small boy.

"What am I supposed to see?"

"You'll tell me," Cain said. "When you get back."

Azrael sat in silence for a moment. The glow from the stove caught the sharp line of his jaw, the clench of his teeth for a moment. "Am I failing, Cain? Have I failed my father?"

A log snapped in the fireplace,.

"You haven't even tried."

They ate in silence for a while, but when his plate was empty, the Angel stood up. He was gone in a matter of minutes. Cain had at least managed to convince him that he needed to change before he swept up onto Ryder's back and was gone into the night. The old man watched from the porch until all he could hear was the faintest echo of Ryder's hooves before he shook his head and went back in.

No, Lord, this was not working out at all.