Title: Tongues of Men and Angels

Rating: TA for implied?romance.

Summary: In the desert, she find him broken. Through the grace of God…all things are made new. A series of drabbles. Gabriel/OC.

Disclaimer: *obligatory insert*

Chapter I: Miracle

…I saw also the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he did fly. And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.

Isaiah 6: 1-3

This is how Bethany found him:

She thought he was carrion at first, from a distance—huge slabs of feathered meat left to rot in the desert sun. It was only (she thought) a miracle that the coyotes hadn't yet torn it apart.

But as they drew closer—Bethany and Joy and their father's '92 Ford F150, two sisters and a rusted-out truck against a decimated world—she suddenly realized the scope of the wings, the sheer size of them, and even as she struggled to think of what animal they could possibly belong to, the feathers stirred.

And she saw an arm.

For all the strange things she has seen in the last few weeks, she still didn't understand—not at first. She threw the groaning Ford into park, jolting Joy out of a dead sleep, and stumbled out of the pick-up.

"Hey!" she breathed, reaching for the sprawled arm and falling to her knees in the gritty sand. "Are you—" she moved to shove aside the heavy wing, throw the animal from him. Instead, the feathers bit deeply into her palms, slicing them lengthwise, and she gasped and pressed them to her chest to staunch the sudden flow of blood.

"Bethany?"

She whirled. "Joy!" she said sharply. "Get back in Baby!"

"But what—"

"I don't know!" she snapped. "Go!"

Joy's eyes widened, almost as startled by her sister's tone as she was by the blood on Bethany's shirt. She turned quickly and scurried back to the truck, peering through the window with anxious eyes.

"Okay," Bethany whispered to herself, staring down at the winged man (angel, her mind supplied nervously) as she struggled to find a place to touch him without risking the sudden loss of fingers if he startled.

"…Sir?" she said hesitantly. She could almost feel the whiteness of her own face, scared and stiff and pale."Sir, are you…" Sir? she repeated, incredulous. Is that the best you can do? "I'm going to roll you on your side, okay?" And she placed one hand tentatively on his shoulder. He didn't stir, and she tried to shift him, but he couldn't be moved. She hesitated, reluctant to get close to those razored wings, before sucking in a short determined breath and planting her shoulder squarely against his, using her body as leverage.

She was panting by the time she'd gotten him on his side, but when she pulled back and saw his face, she stopped breathing entirely.

Oh God, her heart stammered. Oh God.

He was so lovely, she thought. He was all kinds of beautiful. The planes of his face were smooth and slanting, and the skin around her eyes tightened with the onslaught of tears.

"Oh," she said. "Oh."

She breathed again, suddenly, the air catching on a sob in her throat. "Okay," she said again, bracing herself, and then repeated the word. It was a comfort: the sound of her own voice, a reminder of reality.

Then his eyes shot open and she fell back on her tailbone, caught by the blind ferocity in his gaze, the way the light threw broken sapphires and fire-opals into his stare. In his eyes she saw lightning, and exploding suns, mountaintops and cold places where stars were born, and bright, bittersweet, violent things that she couldn't name.

Word Count: 552

Completed: April 8, 2011