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 III: Bread Alone

Yet He gave a command to the skies above
and opened the doors of the heavens;
He rained down manna for the people to eat,
He gave them the grain of heaven.
Human beings ate the bread of angels;
He sent them all the food they could eat.

Psalm 78: 23-25

They found a broken, abandoned home a few miles away, a months-old breakfast still set prettily on the table. It had been surprisingly easy to get the half-conscious angel into the bed of the truck, but once he'd fallen back into unconsciousness it had been hopeless to get him out. She'd always supposed that angels would be made of light and air, or failing that, at least be hollow-boned like birds in order to fly. But no: between armor and muscle, and wings which she suspected were bulletproof as well as razor-tipped, lifting him proved to be impossible. She'd tried to wriggle underneath one of his heavy arms and nearly crushed herself in the process, her lungs constricting painfully before she realized that even if she managed to half-lift and half-push him to the edge of the tailgate, she wouldn't get him shy of it without tossing him painfully to the ground and possibly killing herself in the process. Instead—since she wouldn't let Joy help, though the teenager had sat and watched anxiously from the sidelines—she focused on making him as comfortable as possible in the bed of the truck, padding the space around him with blankets Joy had found in the house.

"What do angels eat?" the younger girl asked now, nervousness in her throat. It hurt Bethany's heart. Once, Joy had been sassy and witty, full of sharp comebacks and defiance. Now, every movement spoke of her fear. "I mean, I suppose I should know but—I can make something," the teenager interrupted herself, stumbling through the words. "There are frozen waffles in the house—"

What do angels eat? The thought was half-hysterical, terrifying in its reality. It was a question Bethany never thought that she would have to answer—and now that she did, the logistics of the question were staggering. What did one feed a messenger of the Lord in order to keep him from molting bladed feathers onto the floor? How did you nourish a creature like him?

"Make something for yourself, kiddo," she answered only, aching with weariness as she took the sutures and gauze from her sister. It was the last of their medical supplies. "And Joy, can you look to see if they have a first aid kit anywhere?"

"Yeah," the younger girl said, nodding a little frantically. She hesitated. "But—Beth? Can I…can we share a room tonight? I don't like sleeping alone in some girl's bed. Especially when I know she's probably…"

Dead. They didn't say it, but the word hung between them like a noose. Bethany's heart twisted. The things poor Joy had seen—

"I might have to stay out here, kid," she said apologetically, smoothing her fingers gently over her sister's forehead. "It's up to you, if you want to sleep in the cab of the truck. You can keep me company."

Word Count: 477

Date Completed: April 10, 2011