[This thread is for Zinnia and ForbiddenVerse. c:]

The street was bustling with people. It was that time of the year, after all. Getting closer to Christmas every day, and there was never enough shopping to be done. There were children laughing on the sidewalk, all gently reminded by the tinsel on the street lights and the decorations in the display windows that Santa Claus was watching them. The parents, however, were under no such compulsion as they pushed and shoved to get around the one person that wasn't hustling at a million miles an hour to get in and out of the stores that lined the streets. Phoebe Watkins tried to fight her way upstream, and wished for the millionth time that she'd driven instead of walked the short distance. But then I'd have to fight for a parking space, she thought dourly. There really was no way to win.

At 5'7', she was taller than the average girl, but she was what would charitably be called 'willowy', which made pushing her way through the crowd difficult. Like everyone around her, she was dressed in a warm toboggan that hid most of her auburn hair and a somber black coat buttoned all the way to her chin. Even her scarf was a cool gray, matching her pants and setting off charcoal black shoes. She wasn't here to shop, or enjoy the lights or catch the Christmas spirit. She was here looking for someone.

"If you aren't going to help us, then we will find someone who will." The angel, androgynous and beautiful, had told her coolly that they would not end their search for an earth bound emissary with her refusal. Like with the glitz and glamor of the holidays, most people would've been awed by a visit from one of the heavenly host, but Phoebe knew better. Every word you uttered was a contract, and no good deed went unpunished. She'd tried and tried to stay out of their way ever since she'd learned the hard way that angels weren't what people thought they were, wanted them to be. And now they said they were looking for some other poor shmo to bother. She'd stiffened when he/she/it/they had told her that.

"Yes, we know that you can hear us, Phoebe Amelia Watkins, even though you deny your destiny. We know that you can see us, and that you could aid us should you choose. To that end, we are truly remorseful, but we cannot wait indefinitely for you to acknowledge who you are. We will find another who shares your skills, someone who does not refuse to do what is right." Amelia stopped at a crosswalk and looked both ways before hurrying on. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she was looking. She had to find this 'other person' and make sure they knew what they were getting into before they bit off more than they could chew.

And who says they couldn't handle it better than you did? she thought to herself as she crossed the road. And how will you find them? There was no telling. She passed by an artsy new age store and wondered if this 'other person' would be someone of their ilk. Someone who embraced their powers, and someone who thought outside of the box. Phoebe snorted. For someone who could see spirits, both of the dead and the host--heavenly or otherwise--she was interestingly cynical of the 'new age' type that toted crystals and swore by tea. If she was going to commune with the dead, she'd take a strong cup of coffee, thanks. Especially if she had to do something about it.

Giving in, at least for the moment, Phoebe slowed down her pace, finally stopping to sit on a low brick wall as she looked out on the crowd. She'd been walking all morning and a good part of the afternoon and she hadn't seen anything. Oh, there was the ever present murmur of the recently dead, but not a feeling, not a glimpse of the person that she was supposed to be looking for. Some great help I was. She helped the dead from time to time, but she'd never gone too far out of her way to help the living before and she had no idea how to start. Damn.

It was the holidays again. Wonderful. It was supposed to be a cheery time. A time where family and friends got together for dinner, laughed and talked about the future; about their hopes and dreams and open up little presents under the Christmas tree and kiss under the mistletoe even though it was a form of poison ivy. Who didn’t want a good itch after a first kiss? Jason thought it was all ironic. Instead of happy cheer and smiles, everyone was yelling at each other and shoving out of the way. Oh how could one not love the hustle and bustle of last minute shopping?

Jason wasn’t buying anything. He didn’t have any lights on his house, no tree in his home and no one to buy presents for. Maybe if things had been different for him, he would have been more cheery. How could one smile when you saw people die every minute of the day and night? He could hardly sleep. They invaded his dreams and he saw people die all the time. Today was no different. Of course he heard whispers in the back of his mind. They always sent shivers down his spine. Those whispers weren’t from the ghosts and he knew it. He had to watch his step if he wanted to stay sane and in God’s grace.

He pushed his raven hair out of his unhealthy pale face and rubbed his tired green eyes. He had been up all night from a particular gruesome suicide. He had woken up screaming himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down on a seat in front of a café. He wanted the day to be over already. Too many people were talking and the noises were unbearable. He wasn’t looking forward to going to work and wished he didn’t have to. He needed money though. He was about to stand up and continue his way when he caught something with his Second Sight.

There was someone across the street. A little girl. She had to be about 11 years old. She was blond and her curls were formed around her face like a little plush doll. Her deep brown eyes would have been so lively if he didn’t see the shadow of death behind them. She was smiling and laughing; holding on to a man’s hand. Jason could only guess that was her father or maybe an older brother. People were pushing and shoving and separated the two. The little girl was pushed out onto the street and she fell to her knees and scraped them. A horn started blaring and the sound of tires screeching against the pavement was heard as the rubber burned.

The girl looked up but it was too late. The car ran her over and her life was snuffed out like a candle. Her father was screaming her name. ‘Elena! Elena!’ He would fall to his knees then and keen the loss of his little daughter. People would murmur about the accident but then quickly forget as they walked away.

Jason blinked a few times and his vision cleared. He stood up and ran to the edge of the street and looked across. Sure enough, there was little Elena laughing with her father. He glanced to the side and saw the man that would push her.

“No!” he called out and ran across the street and ignored the honks of other cars. A car skidded to a halt in front of him just as the little girl was pushed onto the street. The car was coming. He had no time to waste. He jumped over the hood of the car and ran to the girl. He grabbed her into his arms and fell onto the curb just as the car drove by. The little girl was screaming and clung to his shirt. She sobbed hysterically and called for her father. He came by and quickly picked up Elena and hugged her tightly against him. Jason sat up a little and winced. He looked down at himself and saw he had scrapped his arms and his shirt and pants were ripped. His arm was bleeding but it was nothing too serious. Then the father knelt beside him and hugged him. Jason tensed and tried to shrug him off.

“Thank you,” the man said through teary eyes. “Thank you so much for saving her.” He helped Jason off the ground and helped dust him off. He pulled Jason away from the curb and took out his wallet. “It isn’t much but I have to repay you somehow,” he began.

Jason held up his hands and shook his head. “I didn’t do it for money. Hold onto her tightly. Carry her if you have to. Fate isn’t done with her string yet. She will be at death’s door all day. Fate does its best to try and correct things,” he explained and started to walk away from the baffled man. No doubt he probably thought Jason was crazy. Hell, maybe he was crazy.

At the sound of the blaring horn and screeching tires, Phoebe looked up from her sulking to glance at the road. Though she couldn't see much through the crowd that was gathering, and couldn't hear much over the murmuring crowd, but from what she could tell it seemed like the dark-haired man had pushed the child out of the road. Just in time. Merry Christmas, she thought to herself. Someone doing something other than buying gifts. It made her feel as warm and fuzzy as the next person, but she wouldn't have given it a second thought had she not seen a familiar face in the crowd. It was dressed like everyone else, for the most part; warm brown coat, khakis, nice suede shoes. But as it pulled back from the crowd, it garnered no attention, despite the unearthly beauty of it's face.

Oh, shit. Phoebe didn't know it's name, but it was a face that she recognized. Angel or demon, it didn't matter. In the end, they were both cut from the same cloth, and it had taken interest in what had just happened. When it looked her way, she quickly averted her gaze, even though it was pointless. No matter how she ignored them, there was no denying that she could see them. Hear the ghosts that whispered, pleaded or screamed for her attention. She ignored them all now as she surged to her feet, trying to get a better look at the older man, the child, and the one that had saved her life. Is that it? Is that who I'm looking for?

"Excuse me," she muttered, back to pushing through the crowd. Most of them were more than happy to let her through; now that the excitement was over, it was time for them to go back to their shopping. Scuttling along the edge of the road, she could finally see the face of the older man, clutching the wailing young girl tightly. And the man with the dark hair...this was the guy? Other than the fact that he looked like he needed a tan, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him. Nothing ordinary about me, either, she thought to herself. Could this really be the other person I'm looking for? That was when she saw his eyes, and the haunted look about them. It was something that she knew well.

It has to be...

"You see them too?" she asked, breathless. Never, ever in her life had Phoebe ever met someone else who could see ghosts. No matter how many psychics she'd talked to or how many mediums she contacted, no one shared her peculiar talent, double edged sword that it was. No one could guide her, help her. Tell her what to do with the spirits of the lingering dead. If he couldn't, either, he'd dismiss her ramblings as those of a crazy person--it had happened before. But if he could...

”You see them too?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. That was such a loaded question, and not one often asked. He debated ignoring the voice thinking it might be a ghost or another one of the voices in his head, but he had to turn around. He had to be sure he hadn’t just heard it. He looked back to find a girl about his age starring at him. Her eyes… There was something about her eyes that called to him. He squinted, examining her from head to foot and then back at her eyes. They were like his eyes, and he couldn’t deny it.

He glanced beside her and saw how people pushed by her. She was real. She wasn’t a ghost. Did she really see what he saw? Could she really be like him, or someone else? He lived with other pretenders and they made him sick. They asked loaded questions like hers and thought they knew all the answers. Then again, he murmured the same things, asked for the money and sometimes, lied about what he saw. He couldn’t see fortunes, but he pretended to. All he saw was death and that often wasn’t what people wanted from him when they come to his little ‘psychic’ booth.

“See them to? What do I see? What do you see? I see a lot of things. None of them are good things. I see you are troubled, but who isn’t? If you are some ‘psychic’, don’t bother me. I know the trade. Go find someone else to give your fortunes to,” he began. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Why couldn’t everything just be normal? He didn’t want to see these things. Why did he have to see them anyway? What was special about him?

Don’t say that Jason. You are very special. You see things we need. It was the voice again. He shuddered and he rubbed his temples.

What do you want from me? Who the hell are you? Just leave me alone!

We can’t leave you Jason. We need you. You are one of the Chosen. She is to. Befriend her… be nice to her… call her to our side. Someone else is influencing her. They want her. Save her from them.

What are you talking about? That’s when he saw the beautiful thing beside her. He couldn’t tell if it was female or male but he knew it wasn’t earthy. The thing that spoke to him wrapped around him in a shadow and hissed at the other creature. Jason froze. What was happening now? He hadn’t pledge anything! He didn’t want anything to do with them. He didn’t know who was evil and who wasn’t. He just wanted to follow his own code, and now this shadow was over him!

“Get off!” he yelled and flung his arms out and tried to fight off the shadow in a terror. People around them stood back and started to murmur words. No doubt they thought he was insane or under the influence of something. He didn’t care. He just wanted it to go away. He took off running down the street in the hopes of getting free. The shadow chased him for a while before disappearing. He ran into an alley and looked back. He didn’t see It. He gave a shaky sigh of relief and sat down on the ground. He combed his hands through his hair and tried to recollect himself. What was that thing? What was beside her? Who should he follow? He knew one was evil, the other good. Was the shadow good or evil? Probably evil.

"Now you listen here--" she started, irritated that the first thing he would assume was that she was some sort of scam artist. But then, Phoebe would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she did the same thing to every Tom, Dick and Harry ghost hunter that approached her. And dear God, could she have possibly said something more generic than 'You see them too'? Her frustration didn't do anything but add to her irritation, but before she could continue, it appeared again, and it didn't come alone.

It was a heavenly host. She could see as much this time. The brown jacket hid nothing from her eyes, and though it spoke only to the dark-headed man, she knew what it was saying. It had been trying to gain her trust, bring her to the 'light' side ever since her thirteenth birthday. Then again, so had the dark shadow that had also appeared. To her, it had more of a shape, almost human-like in the way it moved, but unearthly in the way it spoke...and in the way it watched him. Whatever it said, the man tried to shrug away from the two of them and bolted down the road.

"Wait!" she called, ignoring the on-lookers. They could say whatever they wanted; she'd heard it all before. But she'd never seen this before, and if she lost him now, there was no telling where or when she would find him again. Crap! I've got to hurry! Dashing after him, Phoebe managed to follow in the gap of shoppers that only a running, flailing, seemingly crazed person could leave behind. It took a moment, but she finally tracked him down to the back alleyway to which he'd escaped.

"Hey, um..." Are you planning on joining in with the forces of good or evil? Do you know what those were? Have you seen them before, or did I drag them to you? That was all a little much to say to someone who you'd just seen. 'Met' was still a bit too strong for the short conversation they'd exchanged. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. If you want, there's one of those big Catholic churches down the way. The seem to be a bit quieter there."

He thought he was alone. Guess not. The girl who had asked him about his Sight was standing there. He groaned. He didn’t know if she was good or bad or whose side she was on, but she was the reason the Shadow grabbed him. He didn’t want it to do that again. He hugged himself and was about to tell her off when she suggested the church and a friendly talk away from the things that followed them. Huh. So she was like him after all. She had seen them. She had seen It grab him and probably heard what it said to.

He shrugged. He didn’t have much of a choice. He didn’t think she would let him walk away. She was the only person he had seen so far with his Sight, and he was probably the only one she had seen. He stood up from his seat and dusted himself off from the dirt on the ground. He cleared his throat a little and gave a weak smile.

“Sure… I guess we can talk in the church. We should probably keep quiet until we get there though. Don’t want them to hear what we say or accidently make a contract with them. I think I just did by accident,” he admitted and shoved his hands in his pocket. He was suddenly cold. Very cold. He kept his head down and started to walk towards the church. He glanced at the girl beside him. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask her and she probably had a bunch of questions for him to. He wondered what to ask her first. Maybe something about the things that always followed them since they seemed to follow her. Maybe they never bothered her before he showed up. Then again, he could have been wrong.

At last they were in front of the church. He opened the door and let her in before he closed the door. It was very quiet there, one of the things he loved about the churches. There was a father in front of the church and Jason gave a bow to him. The father did the same and offered them both a smile.

“Hello Father,” Jason spoke.

“Hello Jason. Good to see you again. And who is this young woman with you?” he asked.

Jason turned to her and gave a small smile. “Trying to figure that out myself. Father, could you leave us alone for a moment? We came here to speak about something with Sanctuary.”

“Of course. I will be in my second room. God help you both,” he answered before shuffling off and leaving the room.

“Alright, so first thing first. What is your name? Mine is Jason if you haven’t noticed by now.”

He was right about keeping quiet, of course, and it just further proved that he had at least some experience with the otherworldly. Phoebe nodded and followed him silently as they made their way to the church. She'd been in and out of churches since she was younger, though she'd long since given up on mainstream religion. Being able to talk to the host--of either kind--took most of the grandeur out of it. She was at least fairly certain that there were greater powers involved somewhere, but wasn't entirely convinced that they were interested in humans for more than a means to an end.

Call her cynical.

Though she greeted the Father with a wan smile of her own and a murmured greeting, she didn't say much until it was the two of them again.

"Phoebe," she told him, looking around the inside of the church. She'd stopped in her a time or two, for the same reason that they'd come today, but it hadn't been for quite some time. As usual, the giant cross at the front of the church and the pulpit, the rows of pews and the sheer enormity was dwarfing. The quiet, however, was priceless. "Nice to meet you, I think. Some introduction, huh?"

After her cursory glance around the room, she settled in to one of the closest seats, looking up at him. Intrigued. How long as he been seeing ghosts? Does he really? What does he do? Can he control it? There were so many things that she wanted to discuss, but it seemed like it was best to take first things first.

"I've been looking for you all day," she said on a sigh. "I wanted to warn you, you know, about the Host you saw earlier, but I'm not as good finding live people as I am dead ones, apparently."

“Yeah, nice to meet you to. Too bad we couldn’t meet at a better time than this.” He looked out around the church and gave a small sigh. He loved being in the church. He felt so at peace, so safe. He wondered if he would be able to sleep in the church. It was such a warming place. He had visited this particular one almost every day. The father knew him pretty well and began to wonder if the father was getting suspicious of him. Jason had let slip a few details about his ‘condition’ in confessions he hadn’t expected.

Jason turned back to Phoebe and sat down beside her. He combed his hair back and starred at the ground. She had been looking for him all day? That meant the thing that was beside her had told her about him. They wanted him for some reason. The one that followed him had wanted something to do with Phoebe as well. He wondered what they were aiming at. What did they want from them? Were there other like himself and Phoebe? He cleared his throat and bit his lip.

“It is fine. You tried either way. I am just trying to figure out why the Shadow engulfed me. It was like it was trying to protect me from something or trying to claim me. Do you know which one is evil and which one is good? Those questions keep nagging at me to no end. They always try to get me to do things for them or whisper in my ear and it is beginning to take a toll on me. Can you control their voices?” he asked her a little desperately. He would do anything to get them out of his head. Seeing death was already enough. He didn’t need voices to add to it.

With it being a little warmer in the church, Phoebe pulled off her toboggan to show a short, spriggy auburn ponytail that had been hiding underneath. Because it was put up, she fought the urge to run a hand through her own hair as she tried to think of the best way to explain. Have they really left him alone up until now? she wondered. But there was no way to know what the Host were doing, not really, and certainly it was beyond her to know why.

"Claim you, maybe," she said with a shrug, resting the warm hat and her hands back in her lap. "I don't really know. I try not to talk to either of them. But, in the end, it's probably a safe bet that the pretty one that talks about being Chosen, about Destiny and about doing the Right Thing is 'good', and that black thing is 'evil'." Not to sound too cliche, but Phoebe wasn't sure that she believed that the Host were either all good or all evil. She'd been talking with the dead for nearly ten years now, sharing with them their doubts and fears, the trials that they'd faced when they'd been on the mortal plain. It was hard not to pick up a few doubts of her own after that.

When Jason asked if she knew how to control the voices, her rigid posture gave just enough for her shoulders to slump.

"I wish I could. I'd kind of hoped that you could, and that you could tell me how to do it. The best I can do is ignore them, and eventually they go away for a while." 'It's beginning to take a toll on me.' Wasn't that the truth? Puffing out a sigh, she fidgeted with the hat in her lap. Of course it wouldn't be that simple, talk to someone else and learn to put a lid on it all. Lock it away, for a little while at least. Looking up at him, Phoebe asked, "What have they been trying to get you to do?"

“D-“ he began but changed his mind. They were in a church after all. He couldn’t go commando in here. So she couldn’t control the voices. What a shame. So it appeared they were stuck with the voices whether they liked it or not. He leaned back against the bench and watched the statue of Saint Maria, the mother of Jesus. Her head was bowed slightly and her hands were clasped together in prayer. Oh how he wished prayers could be answered. He had prayed long and hard for the voices to go away. That and the gift of seeing death to just disappear.

“They try and get me on ‘their’ side and sometimes they have certain people they want me to save. Sometimes they want me to cause someone’s death. I do neither. If I get a vision of a death, I try to help out like I did with the little girl just now. I do my best to ignore the voices like you do. Do you see the dead or do you see people die?” he asked after his explanation. “I see people die and then the spirits of those in purgatory. It is a dreadful place..”

Then his eyes began to dim again and like always, he spoke the deaths he saw.

”There are two busses. One is full. The other has three passengers. The one with a full load is coming off a street. The second… the breaks are faulty. It goes through a red light. They collide. The drivers and a few people are going to die. A young woman. An old man and another man.”

Maybe it is cold in here after all? Or maybe it was just the thought that both angels and demons were actively trying to control people's lives through other people. Shivering, Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to think about what it would be like to be asked to save someone's life...or let them die. Seeing the dead after the fact was hard enough.

"Just the dead," she said, not realizing that it would ever seem simple. It was all relative, was the best explanation she could think of. "I don't usually see how they die, unless they try to get me to help them by showing me what happened." Maybe Jason was a better person than she was, but Phoebe usually just tried to keep to herself and live as normally as she could, given the circumstances. Sometimes, when they really got to her, she would try to help the dead, but there were innumerable. There would always be more dead, more ghosts that sought answers or closure. If she lived for them, she wouldn't have a moment left for herself.

Opening her mouth to say something along those lines, Phoebe snapped it back closed again when he started talking about buses and death. Eyes wide, she listened with horror.

"Jason?" There was a pregnant silence throughout the church. "What was that? Is that what you see?" Not again. I don't want to get involved in this. I don't want this.

When his name was called he snapped out of it and his eyes returned to their semi-lively state. He stood up abruptly and in shock. A whole bus full of people was about to have a head on collision! He looked around but didn’t know what he wanted. He hated these visions. He was always filled with anxiety afterward. He looked back at Phoebe but it looked like she just wanted to curl up and forget about it. Why didn’t she want to stop it from happening? Didn’t she feel the urgency of the situation?

“Come on! We have to do something! Usually visions like that come to me minutes before the crash! We don’t have time to just sit here and twiddle our thumbs! We have to go help those people!” He pulled at her to stand up and tried to rush her out of the door. He knew people died every minute of the day if not more, but he still hated knowing someone was going to die and didn’t try to save them. He felt bad inside. It felt like he didn’t do what he needed to do. Saving lives was good. Letting them die wasn’t.

“Maybe we are supposed to help these people! I don’t care what the voices say, but it is God’s word that says we must help our brothers and sisters and this is the only way we can do it. I am sure you don’t want to see the dead any more than I do, so saving them will cut back some of the damage!” he explained while he pulled her.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Phoebe asked. She might have doubts about the word of God, but he was right; if it was between life or death, she'd have to at least try to help someone live. Being tugged up to her feet, she did an awkward, almost-jog behind him as Jason hurried out of the church, back out into the cold, early evening. The sun was already beginning to set as she looked either way. Of course there wouldn't be some sort of sign that said, 'Bus crash: o.5mi this way'.

"I don't even know how to begin helping people! I mean sure, I find closure for the occasional lost soul or tell Junior where granny left her favorite pair of diamond earrings, but I've never done anything that had to do with life and death!" Stopping long enough to shove her toboggan back down over her ears in an attempt to fight off the freezing cold, the young woman puffed out a breath, re-thinking the words that he'd said aloud earlier. None of them had anything to do with where it was supposed to happen, just what was going to take place.

"Look, did you see see street signs or something? Do you know what the road name was on the light that they were about to collide under?" Buses are going to collide and people are going to die! Maybe she really did want to curl up and forget all about it. If she ignored it, the same way she'd ignored the host in their increasing intensity the past few months, it meant that she wasn't responsible. Wasn't liable for what happened. But if she was to believe Jason--which she did, all in all--it meant that four people were going to die, and that didn't even begin to cover the people that would be wounded. As little as she wanted to, she was now morally obligated to do...something. But what?

Jason stopped in his tracks and looked around lost. He was running around like a chicken with his head cut off and he knew it. He just couldn't stand still knowing he could stop some disaster from happening. His companion started talking about helping people and her reactions to it but he had no time to take that into full consideration. He needed to think. Then she brought up a good point. He needed to know the streets. The street names or the intersection or something. He closed his eyes and tried to think back to the vision.

One bus coming down the street towards a red light. The name of the light was... Huntington Blvd the voice said. Jason froze. The voice knew. Of course the voice knew. It seemed like the voice wanted him to help these people. Should he continue on his way to help them? What if he accidently did something wrong? What if those people were meant to die? What if they were bad people? I can't be the judge of that, he said to himself and looked around. Good or bad, he had to help them. It wasn't his place to judge anyone's soul.

"One of the streets is Huntington Blvd," he announced.

The second is Canyon Ranch.

"It intersects with Canyon Ranch. It is close by. Come on!" he ran in the direction of the streets and skidded to a halt at the light. One of the busses was already there beginning to turn. He had to stop it. The second bus was coming. He ran out into the street with no regard to himself like he had done for the child and started to wave at the bus and yell at them to stop. Some of the passengers looked at him curious and astonished. He saw the shadow of death over two of the passengers and he started to panic. "Stop!" he cried again. They weren't stopping.