Zuriel did manage to eat though her mind was far away. She kept thinking over his words about healing her, the moment before, when she was in the living room and she hadn't been able to think straight. She did understand that he was an angel, the proof was on his back, but he had healed her.

She replayed the memory of him taking her from the couch to the bedroom, of his warm hands against her ribs and up and down her belly. Zuriel remembered how he spoke in a language she was somewhat familiar with yet couldn't understand. It wasn't long after that when Zuri fell asleep, but she still remembered the gentleness of his hands and the warmth of him.

Michael had done what she'd never thought possible; he made her trust someone, he healed a part of her that was broken. "The fact you've made it this long since your mother beat you last night, is literally a miracle." Those words echoed in her mind, right now, she should be dead. And, that thought alone made her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

"Zuriel." Michael's hand moved in front of her face, making her attention snap back to him. He looks concerned though is standing calmly beside her. Her vision moves from his face to the large, silvery wings behind his back. They're so beautiful… He's so beautiful. The thought crosses her mind before she can help it.

"Was the food alright?" Michael knows the answer, he knows her mind is actually far away from what is happening right now and he's simply trying to ground her back into the moment.

"I … oh, yes. It was really good, thank you." Zuriel's head nods as she sets the fork onto the empty plate and makes a move to stand and take it to the sink. Michael steps away from her, letting her move around as she pleased. Her entire life has been like walking on glass, and he is trying to make the next transition of her life as smooth as possible.

Michael watches her as she pushes her sleeves up and washes the plate and fork. She seems incredibly calm considering it's nearly the usual time she'd return home. He had expected her to panic at the thought of angering her mother, but maybe she had truly understood that when he pulled her off the dirty alley floor, he was giving her a new life.

The angel walked soundlessly to lean against the kitchen counter, watching Zuriel. Her dark waves of hair were tangled around her face and against the back of her neck, her arms were visible and covered in discoloration; he assumed every move must be far too familiar with pain, but very soon it wouldn't be like that anymore.

Zuri dries her hand on a towel, letting it rest against the counter as her attention falls back onto Michael. "Why did you change?" He just gives her a half smile, letting his folded arms fall away from his chest. "I don't need my armor here. This place is a sanctuary and has wards in place to keep any evil away." Zuriel nods slowly, about to speak again when her phone goes off. She pats her jacket down to find the flip phone ringing annoyingly.

Michael catches a glance at the caller ID flashing 'Mom' in large bold letters. "You don't have to answer that." Yet, she does, because it's ingrained into her mind to never miss a call from her mother.

"Hello?" Zuriel turns away from him, her body going stiff as muffled words are heard coming from the phone. Michael could listen, but what would the use be? He's heard every ugly word that woman has had to say, he didn't need to hear more.

The angel snatched the phone from the girl's shaking hand, her eyes wide as he broke it in half and tossed it into the trash a few steps ahead of him. Zuriel's heart is beating rapidly, her body trembling in place as she stares at him with a look of uncertainty as he turns to face her once more.

"You don't answer to that woman anymore, I took you away from that life. Here, you can do as you please. I know it is a difficult concept to grasp considering your upbringing, but you have freedom now, Zuriel." He is close now, just a foot or so away and his body is radiating heat like the sun. Zuriel can't place her fear at the moment, maybe because she isn't so much afraid of what has happened, but if she can truly handle a life without her mother.

Zuriel's mother was in just a few words, a heartless whore. The girl didn't know who her father was, and her mother didn't care to tell. Her mother had gone through more boyfriends than outfits and each one had taken apparent joy in helping with Zuri's beatings, but she never thought she could leave.

She remembered when she was younger, fifteen or sixteen, and she couldn't wait to be of age to leave. Then, she was eighteen, but where was she to go? So, she had stayed, and the abuse only got worse.

Michael stepped towards her, his hand cupping her face to tilt her head up. She wasn't afraid of him, just afraid of what he had told her. He brushes her hair away from her face as she seems to calm down from the touch. Zuri's eyes fall close as his lips peck her forehead, his affection making a small smile crease her face.

"You're safe here, with me."

"I know." And, then her arms are wrapped around his sides with her hands resting against his back. He embraces her in return, letting her lean against him as she finally pulls full away from her old life and accepts the new one he has set out for her. Even, though, she doesn't fully know just yet, what it entails.

x-x-x-x-x

Michael leaves Zuriel alone in the large bathroom with several fluffy towels and a change of fresh clothes. He locks the door on his way out, knowing a part of her is nervous without that small, extra safety.

She brushes out her hair first before she stripes down to nothing. Using the full sized mirror, she looks over how bad her wounds are. The gash on her thigh from a few weeks ago has healed over to an ugly scab that is taking far longer than she thought to close. The skin of her arms and legs is littered in bruises that are varying shades of pale red, purple, yellow and edged with black. The sight makes her stomach churn.

Zuriel turns to look over her shoulder at her back, where amongst some of the worst bruises are two thin silvery gray lines just over her shoulder blades. It almost looks like a cut was made into her skin and healed over ages ago. She had never noticed this before, maybe because she had never really looked.

The girl rubs her fingers over her cheek, the mark there being a dark bluish, purple color. It was the newest bruise considering her lower torso was healed and free of any injuries. And, now, it was her last. She let out a shaky breath at the thought, but a smile crossed over her mouth.

Zuriel slipped into the warm water of the tub that Michael had drawn for her, letting the heat seep into her aching muscles and relax her.

x-x-x-x-x

Michael sat in the living room, knowing full well the conversation they were going to have in the morning. He wasn't sure how she would react, especially the bit where he'd have to explain once she woke up from the healing process, she'd have her wings.

The angel looked forward to this day, having wanted it to come sooner. He wanted to save Zuriel all her years of torment, he wanted to protect from the moment she was born. Yet, all he was allowed to do, was come to her when she was a newborn and place a blessing over her. It would protect her from any fatal injuries until she was of age.

He had hoped she would leave once she was eighteen, but she hadn't. Michael prayed then, thanking God for allowing her to come this far with all her maltreatment. He thanked God for finally sending him to her. He prayed for many things then, letting his hands run over his arms where the tattooed scriptures pulsed gently.

x-x-x-x-x

Zuriel left the bathroom wearing fresh underwear and a set of pale blue pajamas. The set was oversized and comfortable considering most of her body was still incredibly sore. Her hair was damp within the towel that was resting over her shoulders and above her head. Her feet were covered with a pair of fuzzy socks, and the girl was warm, even content.

She came into the living room, finding Michael praying while his hands moved slowly over the tattoos on his arms and right shoulder. Zuriel was about to excuse herself when he spoke in the ancient sounding language. She paused to listen, trying to place where she had heard it. Where had she even heard Michael's voice?

She stood there, listening to him speak for another moment before she moved towards him. Michael had opened his eyes, pausing as she settled in beside him. She made a gesture with her hand as if to say 'Carry on' and so he did. Zuri didn't actually understand what he was saying, only that it was somehow thanking God.

Michael reached out to hold her hand, he uttered a few more words then a soft 'Amen'. Zuriel felt a pulse of power slip from his hold, a startled look crossing her face as he lifted his head once more to gaze upon her. The towel that was resting over her head, fell back, exposing her wet hair.

The angel smiled at this, pulling his hand from hers and reaching for the towel. His hands moved with calm certainty, palming the towel against her hair to help it dry. Zuriel caught glimpses of his tattooed arms. She hadn't really noticed them before.

"What do your tattoos say?" She watched him with curiosity burning in her golden orbs, feeling his hands pull away. "They're all different scriptures. They cover my entire body so when I am in battle, I can draw strength from His word."

Zuriel nods as she continues where he had stopped, moving the towel against her head to dry her thick wavy hair. Her eyes roam along his chest to a thin piece of metal that rest against the base of his neck, above his collar bone.

"Is that a collar?" The angel just nods, his fingers tracing over words along his wrist. "Angels are the dogs of heaven, and I am the commander of His army and His right hand." Something about his words sends a shiver down Zuriel's spine.

Not only has an angel come to her aid, he is an archangel, if she remembers correctly. The commander of God's army, His right hand. The words echo in her head, why was someone so important come to her?

"Aren't you tired, Zuriel? Why don't you sleep?" The girl seems as though she's contemplating something, her thin fingers holding the towel on either side against her shoulders. "I think you're right." She yawns towards the end of her sentence, still thinking over his words.

She stands and walks into the bedroom she was in hours ago, setting the towel over her pillow and crawling under the sheets. Michael enters a few minutes later, offering her a warm glass of milk. "To help you sleep." She smiles tiredly at this, taking the glass and sipping down the contents quickly. "Thank you."

The angel gives her a quick nod, watching her cover herself up with the thick comforter. He makes a move to leave when she says his name, her words slurring slightly as she is nearly asleep. "Won't you stay with me?" It's almost like a child talking to a parent, a little whiny and a little needy, but persuasive none the less.

Michael settles on top of the blanket, pressing lightly against her back. Her small hand reaches back for his wrist, he lets her guide his arm over her waist as she cuddles into her pillow. He listens to her breathing even out, resting his skull against her shoulder blade. The angel's wings ruffle a bit as they stretch out, he really doesn't need to sleep, but he decides to anyway.

As his mind is drifting off, his cheek nudging into her shoulder, his final thought is that soon her wings would be in the exact same place.

Very soon.

x-x-x-x-x