("This" is conversation in French. This is thought.)

It was never typical to see an angel on human ground. However, it does happen. It isn't an omen or anything, but it just means that the figures above wanted to check on the situation down below first hand. Contrary to popular belief, they never changed anything about the aspects of humanity when they did, but they did make sure that no radical changes were to be made, such as a zombie apocalypse or a sudden collapse of civilization.

Usually the ones who went down were those who were already somewhat jaded and cynical, rules of human and angel contact drilled through their heads that if they were brainwashed, those would be the last to go. They often wore rigid business attires, and kept about a cold, distant, and superior air about them. You might've heard of the top-of-the-line lawyer, Gina Pierce? Yeah, she's an angel, too. Instead of returning to the "Above Realm", she stayed on Earth; married a nice man named Kennedy, and had their half-human, half-angel daughter, Brittany.

Most of them do their work in the city, as most of the news usually happens there, but when they stay, they move to some out-of-the-way town, like Ohio. Lima, Ohio, to be exact. Few angels, like Hiram Berry and Carter Cohen-Chang, have already placed their residences here, along with their partners and families.

However, we've only tackled the typical situations, if everything goes right. Sometimes there are those who get "Lost", or – literally – angels who fell from heaven to Earth. There were some disastrous results that came from that, Lucifer and Judas are prime examples, but there are those that simply stepped a bad cloud and fell. Sometimes they are left undisturbed, left to their own devices to return to the Above, while some have their memories wiped, if any other angels were in the same area.

This story doesn't start in Lima, Ohio, in the present day, but in Paris, France, in the year 1999…

To any amateur bird watcher, white wings were usually attached to white birds that often symbolised peace, like a dove. However, it was obvious that white wings that were just as wide as a few street stalls could not possibly be that of a dove's.

A dazed and disoriented teenager, probably around 17 years old, stumbled back as the blinding light of the… whatever it was that landed in the public park blazed through his vision, causing him to close his eyes. There was a sort of warmth that enveloped him. It felt good, like a sort of pureness that turned to light and washed over him. He shielded his eyes from the intensity, just as he landed not-so-gracefully on the green grass.

"Hello?" a high-pitched voice pierced through the bright light, and a hand poked through, the small grunts a sign that it was having a hard time standing up. "Who's there?" their voice was timid, coupled with the gust of wind their wings were making.

"I mean no harm," the teen spoke with a heavy French accent, shaky but firm at the same time. The lights started fading away, revealing a little boy – not more than 10 – in a blue shirt and black shorts. What was surprising about this was that he had wings, a detail that Johann Smythe thought he only thought up in his head, but that didn't stop him for trying to gain this creature's trust. "My name is Johann."

The little kid walked up to him, still stumbling a bit as his wings flailed about. Trying to get their bearings, it seems. "Erm… my name is Kurt," he said with a small smile.

"Well then, Kurt," Johann stood up, grinning. "Would you like some place to stay for the mean while?" he looked over him twice, just to see if he wasn't growing horns or a tail. (So maybe he did inherit his mother's superstitious behavour after all.)

At that, Kurt looked a little suspicious, though still gracious as he accepted the offer. "I don't really want to be a burden, but when worse comes to worst…" he shrugged.

The day was barely starting, the sky only a light peach as the sun started to peak above the nooks and crannies of the wealthy French village, the sizzling of foods on pans and the variety of breakfast music created the normal sound of the mornings. But before you think of anything, this isn't a Beauty and the Beast production.

"Master Sebastian!" a tall, young woman, barely out of her twenties, called to the young master, knocking on the door as she waited over the open doorway. The hours weren't speeding away, but she knew that his father wouldn't like it if he was late for anything, even if it were something as trivial as breakfast. "Master Sebastian! It is time for breakfast!"

There was close to no reaction, but Brie knew that he was smaller than most kids, that even the strongest kick could barely stir up a storm on his heavy bed sheets. She grinned when she saw the tiniest bit of brown hair peeking out from the duvet, and quietly walked to the elaborately carved bed. Her calloused hands took hold of the thick comforter, and heaved to expose a drooling and pale Sebastian Smythe, still in his own little dream world. A small smile crept on her features, careful not to wake him up as she picked him up. He adapted easily by wrapping his arms on her neck and his legs on her waist, starting to drool once again, this time on her uniform. She smiled motherly, and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door with a click.

A cold surface woke the young master up, as what most of the maids knew just a few days after Brie was employed. It was a good idea, apparently, to have gotten some young blood within the staff, as it gets easier to tackle problems with the Smythe children.

Sebastian blinked his eyes blearily, wiping off the saliva from the edge of his mouth with his pajamas' sleeve. His caretaker was busy prepping up the things for him to take a bath with after taking breakfast, but first took a washcloth and wiped away all the dried spit on his face, also waking him up effectively due to the temperature the rag was soaked in. He barely got a word in as she quickly fixed his hair, then making him sit up properly, straightening out his bedclothes so that he looks decent, if ever his parents decide to join them.

"Good morning, Sebastian," she greeted him once she was finally finished. He looked grumpy, to say the least, but she knew he was going to have to lighten up sooner or later, she was the only one who tended to put up with every facet that he had to put up. He huffed and rolled his eyes, looking another way.

"Oh don't be like that. You know how your father likes everything to be prim and proper every second of every day. That, unfortunately, includes you," she reached out to pinch a cheek, but he batted her away. She rolled her eyes at that, but she had a weapon. It was obvious when the Cheshire Cat grin spread on her face, and a panicking one on Sebastian's.

"Stay away from me!" Sebastian shrieked, running down the hallways, Brie hot on his tail.

"…Sorry about that," Johann shook his head, leading Kurt to the empty breakfast table in the kitchens. Some of the maids looked at Johann, wondering what got into him to bring some street child into his father's mansion, while some looked at the child himself, and realised why. They whispered among themselves, diving straight to their work lest they be noticed by the winged stranger.

"No, it's okay," Kurt grinned. Heaven knows he's seen a lot of that Above. "I'm kind of used to it," he shrugged, his wings following as he did so. Johann furrowed his brows at that, and heard a loud crash from behind them, it was obvious that Kurt's wings were the reason of the accident.

"Uh, I don't know if this is offensive to you angels," he whispered, to avoid any of the maids overhearing, even though it was obvious that they were trying their best not to look like it. "But most humans aren't really used to seeing angels' wings, especially since most of the staff here are very old, quite religious, and somewhat psychotic when they see something that is radically different," he beat around the bush, hoping Kurt would understand what he was saying.

It took him a few seconds, but then he got what he was saying, to get rid of the wings. "Oh! My mom told me a lot about that. I think I've landed in one of the more… uh…" he looked around the large kitchen. "Extravagant ones. Usually it's the big ones that have more superstitions, right?" he cocked his head to the side, blinking owlishly. Johann tried to process this with his limited emphatic ability, and nodded.

"Well, it's no problem!" Kurt said cheerily, as the wings folded up on his back. Johann thought he heard someone faint. He turned around, surely enough, Mrs. Dubois was splayed out on the floor, Mrs. Johanssen and Sir Blanc (one of their chauffers) was trying to revive her. Kurt looked over his shoulder to see it too, and had the decency to blush. "Oh, sorry…"

"How did you do that?"

"How did you do that?" Kurt turned around to the direction of the voice, and saw a boy with disheveled clothes, just around his age, looking at him with wide eyes. Soon, a woman caught up with him, slightly panting as she did so.

"Pardon?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. The boy gestured for the woman, and he whispered in her ear. She nodded, and answered him.

"The young master was asking how you did that, sir," Brie answered timidly, the slightest French accent staining her American. His mouth went rotund in realization.

"Ohh… you can't speak English?" he effortlessly switched from English to French, much to the surprise of everyone, however, Kurt didn't seem to notice. "Well, since angels are messengers of," he paused to point to the ceiling. "We have to know every language, so that we can spread messages of goodwill or prophecies of disaster easily," he shot out, then realised what he just said. "I shouldn't have said that last part."

Sebastian walked over to Kurt hesitantly, still a bit afraid of the boy. "You are an angel?" he asked, drawing out each word, albeit quietly. Both Brie's and Johann's eyes went wide, surprised at Sebastian's willingness to interact with someone his own age.

"Oui!" Kurt said cheerily, offering his hand. "Kurt Hummel, Rank 2 Angel Trainee of Troup 76910, District 9, at your service!"

This intimidated Sebastian, who slowly backed away from him, until he turned and ran.

"Sebastian!" Brie called out to the young master exasparatedly, and Kurt turned back around to Johann, a sad yet curious look on his face. "Was it something I said?"

"He might be the one, mother. You have to understand!" Johann whispered to Sophia Smythe, his mother.

"And what if he isn't? What then?" she whispered back to him, harshly.

"I've seen his wings, mama! I've seen it with my own two eyes! Ask the kitchen staff if you aren't convinced!" he returned, a little bit aggravated. His mother could be a stubborn mule when she wanted to be, especially when it came to her superstitions. The elegant woman exhaled, and stood up from her armchair.

"Kurt, ma cherie," Sophia said in the most motherly tone she could muster up, as she walked to the supposed angel. "Would you be so kind as to show your wings?"

However, he could see right through this woman's visage. He crossed his arms, pursing his lips a little bit angrily. His normally light blue eyes started glowing, slowly but surely.

"Your son speaks the truth," he said ominously, the voice coming from him unlike the happy, high-pitched one that was his own, deep and rumbling. "Why don't you trust him?" the tone shifted, swooping upwards to become light and airy. If he was being honest with himself, Johann was getting scared of the little boy's power, especially since he looked so young.

She stepped back, trembling. "I-I seem to have misjudged my son. I apologize," she did a little curtsy, as she did when she knew the person she was speaking to was more powerful than she could ever be. Kurt's eyes returned to normal, and a cheerful smile spread on his features, spreading an infectious air of glee in the normally stiff and regal room. "You may stay for as long as you want to, if it need be."

Kurt blinked at this sudden show of hospitality, though it wasn't unwelcome. "That's great, then! Thank you, Mrs. Smythe."