Chapter Five: Coping Mechanisms. Or, messed up shit.

Tessa's shoulder throbbed. She concentrated on that throb, and let it wash over her body, stronger and stronger as she became more aware of the pain centered there, until it was too much. Until she wanted to scream. Then, if she took that pain and multiplied it by ten, that was how her heart felt. Literally, like someone was trying to rip it in two.

Every second her heart was beating was a reminder that she'd lost her kids. Amy and Dylan. And every second it was a battle not to let the pain and grief and guilt take over. She felt it, all right. She just couldn't let it take over and become all-consuming that she couldn't function anymore.

She opened her eyes, realizing Michael was watching her. He quickly glanced away. She hadn't really considered that it was Michael who was going to stitch her up. A complete stranger. But a complete stranger who had saved everyone's lives. On multiple occasions. And shot her kids.

He elicited mixed feelings in her. She didn't know whether to thank him, or punch him in the face. Maybe both.

Under the circumstances, she felt like he was more than a stranger, and less than a friend. A friend wouldn't shoot her family. A stranger might. But a savior? If it meant keeping them alive, then yes. Yes, a savior would shoot without hesitation. He was their savior. Their leader. Their hope.

It didn't mean she had to like how he was going to do his savior thing, though.

Tessa bit her lip. Questions surfaced as she watched him, things she wanted to know about him burned in her mind, and she wanted to get them out of the way first. Before he started pushing a needle through her skin. The thought made her kind of queasy; it was one thing to stitch up your friend when it was serious and had to be done, another to be stitched up. A sharp piece of metal was going to pierce multiple layers of her skin cells to pull it together. She was going to feel it. "Can I ask you something?"

She swallowed. The taste in her mouth made her want to gag. A mix of bile, tears and something coppery, like blood exposed to oxygen. It was disgusting.

He set the bowl of water down on the desk, before setting to move all the knick-knacks off the desk and out of the way; the photo frames, the bits of paper, the phone, pens and pencils all scattered haphazardly on the surface. He moved it all out of the way. Tessa watched him, waiting for him to reply. "Yes."

"Are you an angel?" She felt stupid asking that; before five minutes ago, the notion of angels and God had seemed like a load of bullshit. She'd never given the idea of it a serious thought before, so she couldn't even say if she believed in it all. The idea of angels being real though…it sounded crazy. It sounded like the kind of thing she expected to hear being screamed in a mental institution. But maybe there was something in it. Because she was living reality right now, and it seemed to include them.

"I was."

She sucked in a breath, even though she was half expecting that to be his answer, it still surprised her. She licked her lips. She believed him. He could have a mental disorder, he could be a sociopath or a psychopath that just enjoyed lying to people, messing with them, manipulating them. Showing off how much smarter they were. But she didn't think any of those were the cases here. She believed him, unquestionably. "Until last night."

"Until last night," he confirmed.

She was quiet, just watching him moving the stuff out the way. Her shoulder continued to throb. "Can I ask you another question?"

"You can ask me anything," he said quietly, his voice firm and his eyes intent.

"Okay then. Are you Michael, the archangel?" She knew very little about god and angels and demons, but names stood out in her memories of Christianity; God, Lucifer, Satan, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Adam, Eve, Abraham, Isaac, Joseph, Kane and Abel, and a few others. The popular names you hear about more than others, and the one she kept coming back to was Michael. That was his name, and he said he was an angel, so her obvious conclusion was; Michael, the archangel.

He nodded.

And it was like the flood gates opened in her mind; how much of it all was real? Angels were, apparently. What about demons? What about God? That was the important question, the big one, the one mankind had pondered over for millennia, posing philosophical questions and debating answers; was God real? She wasn't so sure.

Because if God was willing to stop evil, to stop all the bad things, but not able, then He couldn't be omnipotent. But if He was able and not willing, then how could He be the benevolent, all-loving figure depicted? If He was willing and able, then why was there evil in the world? And if He was neither, then why call him God? It just didn't make sense to her.

Once upon a time she believed in angels. Then she got older and gave up such childish ways. Now, apparently, angels were real, and her child-self seemed to be far more intelligent than her supposed 'older and wiser' self because now, she believed in angels again.

God was still a completely different story though. She could only accept so much at a time, and she wasn't ready for God yet.

"You know," she shook her head, her voice bordering hysteria. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. This is just…too much."

"You're very much sane," he told her.

"Thanks," she looked at her feet. "If you were an angel before, what are you now?"

"Now, I'm human."

He turned around, pulling off his overcoat and setting it on the chair. He moved some more stuff before unzipping the leather vest that held two handguns and a knife. It was bulky and would get in the way when he had to get close to stitch her skin.

"How does one…un-angel themselves?"

"I cut off my wings," he said right as Tessa spotted two stains of blood, soaked into his fitted shirt, right where his shoulder blades were.

"Oh my – your back!" She said, eyes wide. "You cut off your own wings! You're bleeding!" She grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it up with her good arm to see, almost in a demanding way. It was the same kind of thing she'd do to Amy and Dylan. When they'd scraped themselves, and didn't want to lift the material away for her to see because they knew she'd have to disinfect it. It was a no-nonsense, don't mess with me kind of tug.

She pushed back the pain that gripped her heart in its vice grip when she thought of what Amy and Dylan used to do. Used to. Never again.

Crude stitches marred Michael's back where two wounds were, holding the skin together. The edges of his skin were red and irritated, blood and a white liquid seeping out and somewhat crusted. Some stitches had even hemorrhaged. Tessa grimaced, "Who did…?"

Who did the god-awful stitching?

"I did."

"You stitched yourself up?" She asked incredulously as he turned around, his shirt falling back down, and suddenly he was right there, very close.

He didn't seem uncomfortable by the proximity, and he didn't step back. Her eyes were level with his chest, and the fitted shirt seemed to emphasize his toned, muscled physique, his broad shoulders, his defined abdominal muscles. Even human, he was powerful; Tessa blinked, her gaze lingering even when she tried to make herself give him some space.

She was surprised; she found it bizarre that she thought the archangel Michael, left hand of God, was really…sexy. She swallowed, trying to covertly take a deep breath to steady herself and clear her head. Which was a mistake, because that delicious, amazing scent of his worked its way into her mind. God, it smelled good. He smelled good.

She looked up at him, his eyes lowered on her face, his lips parted invitingly.

"Yes," he said, his voice a little rougher. A little more husky. His body was responding to the situation rather than the topic of conversation.

Tessa blinked and promptly forgot what they were talking about. She racked her brain, but all she seemed to be able to do was trace the outline of his lips with her eyes. She licked her own lips. He was so close, she felt a thin cocoon of warmth from his much larger body radiate out and wrap around her in a heady intoxication that threatened her sanity.

In a rush, she remembered what they were doing, what they were talking about. She took an unstable step backwards from him, and his lips pressed together. In a flash, the moment was over, broken by her jerking movement away. She could almost convince herself it hadn't happened. That she was imagining things.

"It looks infected, and the stitching needs to be done again," she was pleased her voice was steady.

"I'll manage."

Tessa shook her head at the tough-guy act, "I'll fix it for you, seeing as you're doing this for me."

They didn't need their saviour dropping dead from infection. It was such an anti-climactic way to die, considering the whole 'human extermination' thing.

He didn't say anything, just nodded once after a second of hesitation. "You ready?" His eyes dropped to her shoulder and she felt sick all over again. She was such a baby when it came to needles.

She looked away, taking a step back and ignoring his question, hoping to put it off until later. Which wasn't smart of her considering she was losing blood, but she cared less about her own well-being after…well, after. "Why did you change sides?"

"When God created man and gave him His love, of all His angels, I was the first to bow down before him. My love for mankind has not wavered since then, and it does not waver now. I have hope for humanity. Remove the jumper."

She looked at his face then. He had faith for them, in them. He was there to give them a fighting chance. Or, he was here to give humanity a fighting chance. Whether she survived was irrelevant. It made her look at him differently. She'd run out of questions; her mind was coming up blank. She sighed, sitting down on the now clean desktop, having no choice but to obey him. She hooked one ankle behind the other as Michael came closer. She unzipped the jumper, looking at the tear and red stain, "Sorry about that."

There was a hole in her shirt as well, and more blood. And then she realized she was going to have to take her shirt off. In front of Michael. She coughed before biting her lip. It was funny that she took her clothing off in front of guys every night, but at the idea of doing it for Michael, her face reddened and her heart raced, embarrassed. This should be no different; he was a guy, he was human. And she was in so much pain anyway, both physical and emotional, that it was a wonder she could concentrate on anything other than that pain long enough to be embarrassed.

But Michael was different. He was an angel. And she wanted to be better than just some cheap woman, used to taking her shirt off for a guy. Not-Dylan was right; she was cheap. A slut, a floozy; everything she'd ever felt was true about herself but had to push away for fear of losing it, for fear that she'd stop. Because she couldn't stop; they had needed the money, and at first, every time she felt sick at what she was doing, she had made herself focus on the money. She'd managed to push it all away for long enough that by then, she just felt nothing at the thought of what she did. But now, for the first time in years, she felt ashamed. She wanted to hide that part of herself from him, because she wanted to be better than that for him.

She wanted to be better for Michael?

What the fuck?

In a quick, jerking yank, she pulled her shirt up before crying out at the sudden movement to her shoulder, bringing her arm back down, as well as her shirt, to stop the pain burning in her shoulder. She took a deep breath, her eyes scrunched shut as she waited for the new sting of movement to abate back to the throbbing.

"Um…you're going to have to help me," her cheeks heated and she cursed herself. She was acting like a teenager with a crush, when she wasn't. She was a grown woman, with a… With a what, exactly? A crush? This wasn't exactly the best time for a crush. She couldn't deny she thought he was unbelievably handsome, though.

She couldn't deny she thought his body was perfectly sculpted, or that his lips spelled sex, or that his eyes had the power to wipe her mind clean. A complete blank.

But it wasn't a crush. She was in the middle of the human extermination by freaking angels, with a hole in her shoulder where her brother had stabbed her, and with two dead siblings she was supposed to look after; she was so messed up, and all she seemed to suddenly be able to think about was Michael. And sex. And about how close he was, just watching her, and about how that smell of his just made her want to kiss him. How he could make her feel better. How he could take away her pain.

Tiffany, one of the only friends she had, had an addiction; to sex. She used it as a coping mechanism for stress in her life. She'd tried to explain it to Tessa once; she'd said that it was hard to stop it for any great length of time by herself – it was, after all, an addiction, just like drugs or alcohol. She grew up in an abusive household, and she used sex to escape that abuse. And in the process, she'd formed an addiction to it, to the way it made her feel, however fleeting, better. Sometimes it left her feeling empty. But either way, for a short while it blocked out the issues she didn't want to face or deal with.

Tessa could see how one could use it to escape pain; physical and emotional. To be able to block out what she was feeling would be a luxury she didn't think she deserved. An outlet; a physical out for her emotional pain.

Then his fingers touched the skin of her hips lightly as he grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up. Tessa stopped breathing. She lifted her good arm, and he slid it up that side. She closed her eyes as he pulled it across the side of her head, and down her other arm that she kept still so she didn't irritate it into sending bolts of white hot pain through her again. She heard the material drop lightly onto the desk beside her.

When she opened her eyes, Michael's gaze was locked on her chest. She almost rolled her eyes; all guys were the same, thinking with their downstairs brain. But it was still a shock; he was the freaking archangel Michael. Were angels even allowed to have sex? But, he wasn't an angel anymore; he was human.

He was a new human, in a man's body, unused to their world and the experiences of this world. They stayed that way, unmoving, staring at each other. She was still holding her breath, and she realized she needed oxygen, her lungs burning, so she took a deep gasping breath, her breasts straining in her bra. In response, he took a half step back, his face a clear expression of surprise. His eyes darkened and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

Surely he'd seen breasts before? Being an archangel up in heaven meant he watched humans, right? So he must have seen boobs before. But, she thought, but he's never seen them while in a human body before.

Maybe that made a difference. Experiencing arousing situations while being in human form. Maybe he was experiencing what it was that made them human. He had been in for a shock when he cut off his wings, because she guessed that being human was more intense than being an angel.

She always imagined angles as being pure, and clean and good. Humans, by comparison, were dirty, messy creatures. Angels were warriors of God. They lived in heaven. They were battle hardened and dangerous and deadly, and had a single minded focus that made them very good at war. And putting that all together and comparing it to humans, she realized that humans were far more easily distracted, more attuned to base, carnal desires.

And Tessa knew she looked good in a bra. The plain red cotton material complemented the creaminess of her unblemished skin, pushing her ample breasts up, and giving full view to her curves. The exposure of her body awoke a part of his primitive mind that drove humans to mate, to procreate offspring to ensure the survival of their species.

And considering he hadn't be born human, and grown to become adjusted to his body, to understand and manage it, he was more than likely having difficulties with it.

He cleared his throat, "I…uh, I'm going to have to disinfect the cut before I start stitching."

"Okay."

He picked up a bottle of peroxide, "You're going to feel a lot of pain."

She clenched her jaw. Pain was her specialty of late.

So… How'd you like the chapter? Let me know what you thought!

I guess it's been a while, huh? You're not too angry, right? Right? Anyone? Anyone even remember I had this story going before I dropped off from it?

Well, I hope you liked it, anyway.

Review replies:

ZabuzasGirl: Hey! I guess this wasn't exactly an 'immediate' update… but I hope you liked it anyway! I hope you haven't forgotten about this story, seeing as it's been so long. I'm really glad you had an interest in it before, and I hope you still do. Thanks for continuing to review for me!

Watergoddesskasey: Thank you so much! I'm really glad you were engrossed by it! I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you did with this chapter too!

DovieDM-1991-Promised Wings: Thank you so much! Is it bad that I'm glad it was a tear-jerker? I dunno, but I'm still glad it had that effect; it was meant to! Yeah, me too – I did not like killing them off. At all. Thank you, I'm glad you thought Tessa's reaction to the whole human extermination thing hit the mark. I thought the movie left that out, all the good stuff, so I was happy to be able to work it in! Thank you so much, I'm so glad you're liking it, and I hope you liked this chapter too! Thanks for reviewing!

Guest: Thank you so much for taking the time to review this for me, to let me know that you're enjoying it – it means a lot to me! Yay! I'm glad someone else though that the movie skipped over that kind of thing, so I'm stoked to see you enjoyed her speech! The movie was really dark in that way, and I really wanted to bring in some of humanities better qualities, as you said! Thanks so much again!

Aurelia arisato: Hola! Tomé clases de español en la escuela, pero lo siento si esto es confuso, porque no soy muy bueno. En primer lugar, muchas gracias por tomarse el tiempo para revisar! En segundo lugar, se crea un punto interesante, pero tengo que estar en desacuerdo con él. Pensé que la película se centró en todo lo malo, pero nada de lo bueno, lo que quería incorporar lo bueno en esta historia. No creo que el bien puede vencer al mal, pero creo que hay partes iguales de la misma en el mundo. Tessa no dijo que Dios (o quien está juzgando y presidir la humanidad) debe ser indiferente a los errores de la humanidad, pero que al parecer, en la elección de exterminar a los humanos, no se le da suficiente crédito y mérito a todos los bien en la humanidad. Pero tal vez sólo soy ingenuo. Muchas gracias por dejar que la opinión, sino que era realmente interesante saber lo que otra persona piensa acerca de todo, y tiene una perspectiva muy interesante, frente a mí! Espero les haya gustado mi historia a pesar de eso.

Molly: Hi! Thanks so much for reviewing chapters 1 and 4! I'm really glad you are liking it so far! And I'm sorry that chapter 4 made you sad! It had to be done, unfortunately, but i hope you're liking this story anyway! And i hope you liked this chapter! Thanks again for reviewing this story for me!

Jess: Aw, thank you so much! I'm really glad you think it's amazing and that you want to know more! Now I just feel bad for taking forever to update! Thanks again, so much, and I hope you liked this latest chapter!

Hoove-print-on-your-heart: Hi! Thanks so much for reviewing this story as well as my other one! I'm glad you seem to like this one as well :) I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter, and that it wasn't a disappointment!