God's Gift
Zachariah opened his eyes, instantly confused. 'This isn't right.' The last thing he remembered was Dean fucking Winchester stabbing him in the face. Zach touched his face tentatively, searching for a wound, but he found none. He frowned and pulled back his hand, looking at his fingers for blood. Instead he found clean hands. Baby hands. 'Wait…what?!" He turned his hands over, but no matter which way or how long he looked at them they remained small and pudgy.
Panic swallowed him and he tried to stand. He tipped instantly, unable to hold his balance (the too big clothes weren't much help either). The confused angel fell onto all fours, wings splaying out around him. 'Hold on…wings?' Zach tossed his head back, trying to get a good look at the set of plumages. They were nothing like his usual wings. Yes, these ones had the pleasant shades of coppery brown mixed with specks of black and white and the subtle touches of light purple near the tips and the joint connecting the wings to his back. These were just several sizes smaller. Sure, they were large on his tiny body, but nothing like what they should have been. They should have been vast and intimidating….brag worthy even, but these were…cute.
A door flew open and Zach looked towards it with wings flared. An old Indian woman stood in the doorway wearing a kitten sweater and curlers in her white hair. Her big brown eyes widen at the sight of the angel sprawled out on her carpet.
"Sweet gumdrops!" She waddled over and picked Zachariah up from under the arms. Zachariah yelped, struggling in her hold. He tried shouting at her, but only odd babbles left his mouth. The woman cradled him close against her very scratchy cat sweater and oh…she smelled. 'What is that? Must? Prune Juice? Ick! Denture cream?' Zach tried to hold his breath; maybe he'd pass out and be relieved of this nightmare if he held it long enough?
"Dear? Dear?" Zachariah stopped struggling and glanced to the door as a new voice sounded from down the hall. "Is something wrong? I heard you shout and…" The voice trailed off as hazel eyes met Zach's angry ones. Another human had appeared. This one was male with short white hair and glasses with lenses so thick they made his eyes ten times larger than they actually were. "My God!" the man gasped, shuffling closer to the old woman and Zach. He poked the angel's wing with a meaty finger and Zachariah pulled his wings in closer to his back, scowling at the old man. He smelled weird too.
"Isn't he just beautiful, Alan?" the woman beamed, fingers squeezing Zachariah a little tighter. "The lord finally heard our prayers!" Zach scoffed, glancing upwards. He seriously doubted that. "Years of loneliness and…and he sends us our own little guardian angel." She pressed a gentle hand to Zach's cheek then, eyes soft with joy. Zach just glared at her, wishing she'd draw her finger a few inches closer to his mouth. Maybe if he bit her she'd drop him and he could get away?
"What's his name?" the old man…Alan questioned. "Did you check if he has a note on him or something, Milly?" Zachariah scowled and babbled at them, trying to say his own name. Instead it came out sounding like he was blowing spit. The little couple laughed at him though, finding his speech impediment cute. Alan reached out, fumbling through the pockets of Zachariah's coat until he pulled out a crisp white paper with elegant hand writing. "Zachariah?" Alan huffed. "I thought he was supposed to have six huge wings and several heads or something?" The old man glanced over Zach's wings and the angel pulled them tighter to his back looking away from the couple. He didn't need to be told he looked pathetic by a bunch of old roaches. Alan's gaze broke from Zachariah's wings suddenly and Zach looked up on hearing a distressed grunt from the old man. Milly had cuffed the old man on the back of the head.
"You watch what you say!" she shouted. "He's just a baby, Alan. He has plenty of time to grow. Now apologize to the little dear." Alan grumbled an apology as he rubbed at the bump on his head. Milly turned on her heals, walking out of the room and down the hall. "You mustn't worry about Alan, Dear," she started. "He's a religious man with some high expectations, but he adapts to change fast." She smiled then. "He married an Indian woman after all." Zachariah just stared at her. Honestly, he didn't understand why humans made such a huge issue with marrying a person of the same faith or not. It made no sense. It's not like God cares. If he did he would have ended the world a long time ago.
A hard pinch to his cheek shook Zachariah from his thoughts and the angel gave his attention back to the old woman. "How about I whip up some lunch for us? Any requests?"
"Some psychiatric pills to get out of this nightmare," Zach grumbled to her. Sadly, the words came out jumbled, sounding like disgusting little snorts and gurgles. Milly laughed at him and patted gently between his wings.
"Alright, baby boy, let's find something," she hummed, turning a corner.
"I'll find him some clothes!" Alan shouted at them just as they were walking into a comfy little kitchen. Milly got right to work. She grabbed a bag of knitting supplies, pulling out a knitted blanket. Zachariah watched as she draped it carefully on the floor and grumbled when she set him down on it. The pattern was very well done and the fabric was soft, but Zachariah couldn't make himself happy with the arrangement. He was an angel! He was not going to be just tossed on the dirty ground for her convenience. He demanded respect and –
A finger shoved itself into his mouth and something sweet tickled Zachariah's taste buds. The finger removed itself after a second and Zach licked his lips in attempt to capture more of the delicious taste. Milly laughed as she watched him and carefully knelt down, but not too much. She didn't want to hurt herself.
"Good, huh?" she asked. "It's oatmeal with apple slices and cinnamon." Zachariah tried to look uninterested, but the delicious sent of the oatmeal cooking on the stove distracted him. "You want more?" she asked. Zach opened his mouth to give his affirmative, but stopped himself. She wouldn't be able to understand him. He had to try a different way to speak.
"Yum, yumz," he babbled, raising his hands up to her, fingers flexing. He hated himself for doing it all, but he really was hungry, something he hadn't felt in…well, forever.
"Let's get you a bowl then," Milly chuckled, carefully lifting him up and standing again. Her back creaked and her joints popped, but she hid the aching well. Slinging him in one hand, Milly scooped some oatmeal into a small bowl with the other. When that was done she carried it to the table and sat Zachariah down on top of the wood surface. "Open wide!" she cooed. Zachariah shook his head when she tried to press the spoon to his mouth. 'I can feed myself!' Well, maybe he couldn't. Zachariah glanced at his pudge hands. 'How much grip could these stupid things have?' An irritated moan made its way passed his lips, but Milly didn't notice. Instead, she started to wave the spoon around, making odd noises. "Here comes the train!" she shouted, plunging the spoon back to his lips. Zachariah readied himself to ignore the spoon. He didn't play such games. He wasn't a child. Well, not mentally. Milly got her way though. Just as the spoon was about to crash against his closed mouth, fingers tickled Zach's sides. He gasped, letting out a chortled giggle and leaving his mouth wide open. Milly stuffed the spoon full of food into his mouth and Zachariah sent a glare towards the old man standing behind him that had just attacked his sides.
"Sorry, kiddo," Alan chuckled, pulling something from behind his back and holding up a yellow onesie. "I dug up our boy's old clothes to replace that mess you've got on." Zachariah glanced down at the bundle of too big clothes he was currently wrapped in. He glanced back at the ugly yellow onesie, tongue sticking out slightly. He wanted to protest, but he knew it was pointless. They wouldn't be able to understand and he also really didn't have a choice. He had no other clothes than the ones on him and they were too big. He most certainly would not be going nude either.
Zachariah let out a string of babbles directed towards Alan and then looked back to Milly, opening his mouth for the next spoonful. There wasn't any use denying the tasty treat anymore. She'd one the battle. Zachariah couldn't complain about it. The oatmeal was very enjoyable.
When he had eaten the entire bowl and both Milly and Alan had eaten a little too, they both assisted in getting the angel dressed. Zach had grumbled about it the entire time, but as usual, his grumbling was useless. They had run into some issues, but Alan (the master tailor he is) solved the problem, by cutting slits in the back for the wings and pinning the fabric back up with safety pins. Zachariah was dressed in a matter of minutes and soon he was being carried into a bedroom with a cozy looking bed covered in green bed sheets. Milly set him down in the center of the bed and set a pillow on either side of his body to keep him from rolling off the giant bed. Alan brushed through his feathers then and started humming. Zachariah didn't recognize the song. It wasn't one he'd heard in his trips around Earth, but it was…nice. In fact, it was very calming. His eyes started to grown heavy and he rubbed at them, trying to force the sleep from them, but the rubbing only seemed to make it worse.
"Sleep, Zachy," Milly whispered. Zachariah let the fight die out of him. He squeezed her finger with his tiny hand and closed his eyes. Sleep consumed him and for once, thoughts of stinking humans disappeared. They were instead replaced by the faces of a greying old man with too big lenses and a little Indian woman with curlers in her white hair.
When God said he was giving all the angels a second chance he really did mean all the angels. Wonder who else might show up? ;)