[M] The Vengeful Angel 1x1 (Ashen and Sparkz)

Rated M for possible language, violence, romance etc

Mary Rose Alden was born and raised in a strict Catholic family. She had five brothers and sisters and she was the middle child and mostly ignored expect for being lectured on modesty and Church teachings. She grew up with curfews, regulated clothing, and suffered through homeschooling all the way through high school. Being seen as one of those 'weird homeschool kids', she didn't have many friends. As such, she turned to art. When she wasn't forced to read through Scripture, she would doodle in a notebook that she hid from her parents.

Mary decided to change her life and the way she lived once she got to college. She lived through her first year still following her parents rules, dressing extremely modest, going to daily mass, confessing her sins regularly. By the end of her first year, she realized just how miserable she was living under her parents' strict rules. As such, during the summer between her freshman and sophomore year of college, she died her hair and got her first tattoo and body piercing. Disgusted, her parents kicked her out of the house, which was fine by Mary. Feeling liberated for the first time, she dropped out of college and pursued her own path.

Now living by her own rules, the first thing she did was got rid of the mentality that she had a curfew. Next, she busied herself with partying and soon quit going to Mass and Confession regularly as her scheduled filled up with learning how to be a tattoo artist and partying. Then, Mary got a wardrobe change. She traded out all of her prudish clothing and obtain a bit more flirtatious outfits. Though, she still maintained a shred of modesty making sure that all of her assets were covered decently enough. She still had her self respect, even if she was rebelling against her parents' tyrannical rule.

In one final act of rebellion, Mary moved far from her home town of Memphis and moved to Indianapolis, Indiana. Her family had disowned her and she was perfectly fine with that. A year had past since she established her own life in Indianapolis and she couldn't be happier. Mary was 21 now and her own personal style had finally been achieved. She had added a few more tattoos and piercings to her body, loving the fact that her body was actually a canvas for art and personal expression. Most recently, her favorite tattoo on her body had been added, placed between her shoulder blades. Her style consisted on bright colored tank tops with dark pants and a jacket, depending on the weather. She liked to show off her tattoos as much as possible, though the cold winters made it hard to do that year round. Anyone who had known Mary in her youth would say that she had changed drastically but is a lot happier now. It helped that she had finally achieved her dream of becoming a tattoo artist.

Mary still attended mass on Sunday every few weeks or so out of obligation to the Big Man Upstairs. Though, if she forgot to go, she didn't really care. Even if she was not as devout of a Catholic as she once was, her faith was still important to her. She believed in God and all the Bible stories and even agreed with many if not all the Church teachings, even if she didn't follow all of them. Angels and demons were all very much real to her, even if they didn't exist in this plane of existence,

This particular Saturday in June, Mary was enjoying a girls night out with some of her female friends and coworkers at the hottest club in Indy. She was wearing a flirtatious black dress with fishnets and combat boots accessorized with a long chained cross necklace. Her dress had spaghetti straps so as to show off her tattoos. A couple of her friends were looking to get laid, Mary only wanted to get drunk, dance and have fun. Though tonight seemed like an average girls night out, Mary Rose Alden's life would change forever.

Darkness. The perpetually-lit Instittute was, for once, bathed in blackness. There was an endless amount of eerie things in this hell, but none were as terrifying as this unknown. The sounds were all haunting, constant beeps and buzzes from more machines than could be counted. They seemed so much louder in the dark, so much more offensive, so much more dangerous. Small lights could be seen in varrying shades of red, barely visible now that the overhead light was busted. They were containers of blood, of all that remained of the hundreds of animals murdered in this very lab.

And then there was light. The offensive white beams came all at once, pouring in from the ceiling and cloaking the room in a too-bright glow. The room came into view, perhaps for the last time. The too-white walls, the too-white floors, the stainless countertops and machines that filled the room to its limit; never again would they be so pristine. Blood, after all, was the hardest stain to remove.

Tired brown eyes opened with a start, blinking this new world into focus. A young man sat up, holding his aching head. All around him was... grass? A sky? And in the distance, was that a city? He looked around confusedly. His hands, they were covered with blood. The rest of him was too, splatters staining all of his tanned body. Suddenly his memories returned. The Institute. He had broken out, and he'd left a bloody trail in his wake. But how had he gotten here, and where was here? He looked to the sky, at the distant, shining orb. What was that? Why did it hurt to look at? And why was it so hot? What was going on?

The man tried to get up, but his legs felt too weak and he fell over. His second attempt got him standing. He looked behind him, at two sweeping white wings. They ran the length of his body, and when expanded, their wingspan easily achieved eight feet. He flexed his wings and found them stiff. These wings, they had caused him so much trouble for him. Him... Who was he? It took him a moment to remember. He was Matteo Agnusdei, the Archangel.

It took a few tries to get him walking. When he did, he started for the distant city. A naked man covered in blood, with wings taller than he was; he didn't realize how he might seem to anyone else. But Matteo had a goal, and though he didn't know how to achieve it just yet, he knew he would accomplish it if it was the last thing he did.

Mary and her friends enjoyed their evening of drinking, dancing, and basic merriment. Mary took full advantage of the drink specials and all the drinks that random guys bought for her. By the end of the night, she was wasted. Now Mary was a lovey-dovey drunk. She went around to all of her friends and told each one of them how much she appreciated them in her slurred speech. Eventually, it was time to head home. That night's designated driver made sure that Mary got into a cab and on her way home safely.

Mary's apartment complex was towards the edge of the city. It was in a convenient place since the tattoo parlor where she was employed was not too far. On days with nice weather, she could ride her bike to it. The whole drive, she talked to the driver and told him how nice he looked and that he was a great guy because he was taking her home. After 30 minutes of driving through Indianapolis traffic, The taxi pulled up to her apartment complex. She paid the driver and staggered her way to her door.

She tripped over her own feet and fell the to ground. She sat there giggling her head off for a few minutes before mustering the strength to stand up. Once she stood up, she saw a man in the distance, walking towards her. The drunk girl squinted her eyes. "Hello!" she called out cheerfully and waved. As the man came even closer, she noticed that he had no clothes on. She blushed considerably. "Oh my.... sir? You aware that your clothes.... you clothes are missin?" She slurred as she took a couple of steps towards him. As he walked under a streetlamp, one of the few that actually worked in this area, she saw his wings and the blood that covered his body.

"A..A bloody angel..." she murmured before giggling to herself. "He must be British! Bloody angel... bloody angel..." she chanted happily under her breath. "Did God forget to give you real clothes angel?" she asked with a wide happy smile. Under normal circumstances, a sober Mary would have run in the opposite direction of a blood covered individual. But drunk Mary was a little bit more trusting and happier when it came to these things. "When I was naked, you clothed me...' she whispered to herself, remembering a Gospel passage from her youth. "Did Jesus send you? Am I supposed to take care of you?" she asked the man with a giddy smile.

There was a figure off in the distance. It was very hard to see through so far, and aggravated, Matteo rubbed at his eyes. Was he seeing things? A woman was waving at him, and calling to him. Maybe she would be able to help him. Maybe she would know what to do in this situation. So he walked over to her, still trying to get used to being on his own legs. When was the last time he'd been allowed to walk like this? The woman spoke again, and Matteo had a hard time placing her accent. Her words were slurred, and he had a hard time making out just what she was saying. His... His clothes were missing? He looked down, at his exposed form, and he cocked his head. Was he... supposed to have clothes?

She continued talking, but Matteo didn't know if she were talking to him or to herself. At the mention of an angel he lifted his eyes and nodded weakly. She went on, allowing him to get close enough to see her. She was a woman, a young woman, who looked like she'd had a rough night. She smelled of something foul, and Matteo found himself stumbling back. When she finished speaking, Matteo stood for a moment, trying to understand what had just transpired. "Eh? Cosa stai dicendo?*" It was normal talk to him, and an innocent question, but it suddenly occurred to the angel that he was not using the language she had been. He scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, trying to remember English.

"I am an angel, yes." His voice was very rough, as if it hadn't been used in years. He spoke with a slight accent, and his voice was quiet, almost afraid. "I am not British. God... God gave me nothing... He... Jesus, he didn't..." He paused then. Would this woman help him if she believed Jesus had sent him? But he was an awful liar; would she believe him? But then, in her current state, the woman looked about ready to believe anything. So Matteo nodded again. "I need... help. I need you to... to clothe me. Nutrire me, e dammi riparo**." His hands went to his head again. He could feel his headache getting worse. His legs were turning to jelly. "Quickly, please, I need... I need help." He looked behind her, at the building she had been moving towards. Did she live here? Would it be right for him to take advantage of her home? His blood had dried, so at least he wouldn't leave a mess... But what choice did he have? Besides, if she had offered, it wasn't on him.

He looked back to her with a gentle smile. Remembering all the Bible stories he had read, he nodded again, much more calmly. "It is God's will."

* Cosa stai dicendo? - Italian for "What are you saying?"
** Nutrire me, e dammi riparo - broken Italian for "Feed me, and give me shelter"

Mary listened to the angel as he spoke. She gave him a confused look as he spoke in a language other than English. She only knew English and Latin, thanks to her homeschool education. She realized that he must have saw her confused expression as he switched to English. She grinned at him when he confirmed that he was an angel. MAry couldn't believe it! A real life angel! Man, this was exciting!

As the angel continued to state that he needed help, she was all too happy to help. It was an angel asking her after all. It would have been a major sin to turn him away. She looked at him concerned as he grabbed his head. She could tell that he was getting desperate for aid. "OF course I can help!" she grabbed his bloodied arm and pulled him towards her apartment. Mary giggled as she struggled to get her key into the lock. After a few minutes of drunken giggling and struggling, she finally managed to unlock her door and ushered the angel into her apartment.

Her apartment wasn't anything special. It was perfect for one person. It had a living room, a small kitchen, a bathroom and one bedroom. She kicked off her boots before staggering to the closet by the bathroom. She pulled out a bin filled with blanket. It fell to the ground and Mary stood there, looking at it as she giggled. "Bin go boom..." she giggled again. "What a nice bin...." she had momentarily forgot her guest as she sat on the ground and pat the bin, giving it compliments. After a few more minutes of this, she looked up at her naked guest and grabbed a blanket before standing up.

The girl handed the blanket to the angel. "Here... to cover yourself, angel. See? I clothed you! We better clean you up!" she said excitedly as she went to her bathroom. She got distracted as she passed her bedroom and entered her room. She collapsed on the bed and fell fast asleep, leaving her guest to his own devices.

Was this woman mental? Matteo watched her with a bewildered expression as she slurred and stumbled. He couldn't quite remember alcohol effects, nor did he recognize the smell coming from her as the source of her loopiness, so he was left confused. He flinched when she grabbed him, too afraid of aggressive grabs, and he struggled to keep up with her. This woman, she could hardly fit her key into the door. He hesitated before trying to take her key and open the door himself, but she seemed to finally figure it out, and soon they were in her home.

It was the most beautiful home he had ever seen. It was true that only three lingered in his memory: his childhood home, which was more like a gigantic dollhouse than a space to be lived in; the Institute, which was no home at all; and this apartment. His eyes widened as he looked over the room they were in. It looked so lived-in, and it had a charm he did not know how to describe. He hardly noticed the tenant stumbling about, but the loud crash from the bin startled him, and suddenly his wings extended, as if to flee. In extending his wings, he knocked over some statue of a lady in blue. Panicked, he watched as the statue fell to the ground, and the woman's head cracked right off. He looked up to the real woman, but so lost in her stupor, she didn't even seem to notice. Just what was he getting himself into...?

Matteo tucked in his wings again and placed the broken statue onto a table. When he turned around, the woman was handing a blanket out to him. He took it and followed her, but she seemed to grow distracted, and soon she was passed out on the comfiest-looking bed he had seen in years. Suddenly he was alone in a strange and possibly mentally sick woman's house, and he had no idea what to do.

As Matteo stood in her bedroom trying to decide whether he should stay or bolt, he caught sight of a man in a pane of glass. The glass was over her dresser, and it was reflective. The man in it... Was that him? Matteo stood there, mouth agape, and stared at his own reflection. His wavy brown hair was down to his chin now, and was he... Was he growing facial hair? His tanned skin of an Italian was blotchy and stained with shades of red and brown. He could just faintly see his scars under the blood, the scars of a lifetime of suffering. Had it been a lifetime? What year was it? When had he become... a man?

So caught up in his grown-up features, he had forgotten to even notice his wings. They were the white, fluffy wings of a swam, and it still haunted him, knowing what he'd gone through to grow them. After checking his surroundings, he extended his wings. They, too, were speckled red, and the feathers were untidy, ruffled. Matteo couldn't remember ever seeing his wings like this, but then, he had never truly seen his wings at all. He'd seen drawings, perhaps, and he'd overheard what they were supposed to look like, but these... How strange these were. He wondered if this woman had anything that could remove them.

After a while, Matteo wandered back into the bathroom. He could remember certain fixtures: the toilet was where one got rid of bodily wastes, and the sink was where one summoned water, typically to wash hands. The soap was used to clean hands and other body parts, and he could faintly remember shampoo having something to do with hair. But the contraption near the toilet, the tub-shaped thing with a sink-like faucet; he had no idea what that was. He toyed with the knobs and soon, water came out of the lower faucet. The rush had surprised him, and Matteo stood over the tub clutching at his chest. He was far too jumpy, but how could he not be, living through his last six years?

He stepped into the tub and left the curtain open. After pressing and turning more knobs, he managed to get the water to come out of the top spout. Rain washed over his skin, scalding him. He backed himself away from the burning water, causing him to crash into the back wall and knock over some bottles beside the tub. He winced as his headache grew stronger and his body burned. When he couldn't figure out how to make the water colder, he gave up and started washing in the sink instead. It took a very long time to get the blood from his hands, arms, chest, and face, and he turned everything lower could wait until tomorrow.

The blanket draped over his shoulders, Matteo took to exploring the rest of the apartment. There were so many strange things, things he had no names for. Should he stay here? Would the nutcase of a woman try anything on him when she woke? Matteo laughed at that. It certainly hadn't been his blood on him, and the two he'd fought were probably still struggling. No matter how strong that woman might have been, he was an angel. He didn't have to worry about a thing.

Matteo walked to the door he'd come in through, and he was surprised to find the outside world just as black as his earlier dream. In the distance, lights illuminated the sky, and very faint silhouettes of what he assumed to be buildings. There was a luminescent ball in the sky, too, and he wondered if it was the same ball as before. At least this one wasn't so hard to look at. As he looked up at the sky, the angel could only sigh. He no longer belonged to this world, and he wondered just how he would manage to live in it.

He turned back to the woman's bedroom, and he shifted awkwardly. Would she even remember him if he left now? She had offered, hadn't she? And even if she was far from mentally sound, she was willing. He had a feeling no other would be. So Matteo closed the front door, and he collapsed onto a couch. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was, so he was soon out cold, but the nightmares that haunted him made him wish he were more dead than asleep.

The next morning at around 10, Mary woke up with a massive hangover. She quickly thanked God that she didn't have work that day before reaching over to her bedside table. Before she went to the club yesterday, she had placed a giant glass of water on her nightstand as she always does before a night of partying. She sat up and drank the water slowly as she considered her next move. Mary looked down and realized that she was still in her outfit from the night before. She must have passed out after she let that angel in.

She paused for a second. Angel? Did she actually let an angel into her home last night or was that part of a dream. Her head felt like it was about to explode. There was no way she could have actually let a stranger into her house. It must have been a dream. She stood up and just stayed still for a moment, gathering her strength before making her way to her dresser to grab a fresh change of clothes. She desperately needed a shower to one: get rid of the smell of booze on her body and two: to wake herself up. Mary slowly trudged to the bathroom and shut the door, though it didn't shut all the way and she didn't mind since she was alone in her apartment.

Mary looked at the shower to see that it was already running steaming hot water. It had been on the whole night. Had she tried to shower last night but gave up? It was a possibility, but not likely. Mary shook her head. It didn't matter... her headache was getting worse and she wanted to shower. She stripped and turned on the cold water to cool the water temperature down to a more manageable temperature before stepping in. She showered for about 20 minutes, which was how long it took to wake up and wash her hair and body with her head pounding the way it was. Once she was done, she dried off and got dressed in black sweats and a white tank top. She stood in front of the sink and looked at her reflection for a little bit before putting her hair in a bun, not bothering to comb or dry it. She wasn't feeling up to it right now.

Mary finally stepped out of the bathroom after spending 40 minutes in there. She looked over her apartment to see the effects of her drunken stupor. Her blanket bin was on the floor... okay.... She looked over at the table to see her St. Mary statue beheaded. She gasped. She absolutely loved that statue! It was one of her favorites since her maternal grandmother gave it to her for her First Communion. Mary couldn't believe that she would break her patron saint's statue.

Finally her eyes fell on the man in the couch. It was a half naked man... on her couch. Mary stepped backwards in shock and screamed. There was a MAN on her couch! He didn't belong there! Not at all! As the man shifted in his sleep, one of his wings came into her line of sight. She muttered a soft prayer in Latin. This was the angel she had dreamed about! But how? That angel was in her dreams... but he was sleeping on her couch. That meant that her dream wasn't really a dream! What could she do? It was a real live angel in her home! And she was flat out wasted on their first meeting! Mary was going to hell. She was certain of it.

Matteo was awoken by a scream, but he could hardly distinguish it from those in the nightmare he was having. After a minute his eyes fluttered open and he looked around. He was in... that woman's home. Right. Had he never caught her name? He forced himself into a sitting position and went to turn towards her bedroom when the sight of her startled him. When had she approached him? She looked panicked. Had the scream come from her? As Matteo listened, he realized she was praying. It was a prayer he knew, in a language he knew. Did this woman have any sanity left?

Matteo sat up straighter. His blanket was draped over half a thigh, but most of him was still left exposed. As he sat, his wings were positioned awkwardly against the back of the couch. He didn't seem to mind, or perhaps he was just too used to cramming his wings. He turned up to the woman and gave a polite smile. "I am hopeful you do not mind my staying here, yes? I used your... your bathroom, and I tried to clean myself, but your... your rain instrument, I did not know how to work it." He scratched at his head awkwardly. "I did not wish to wake you. I hope... I hope... Avete dormito bene?*"

His words seemed rough, his gaps long, as if he were just remembering how to speak at all. Even his Italian fell from his lips in messy syllables and a forgotten accent. He looked up at her, studying her. She seemed more normal today. Maybe she had been sick yesterday. The foul smell wasn't following her any longer. It had been replaced with something sweet, something Matteo had smelt in the bathroom yesterday. That is, if it even was morning.

He got up from the couch, and the blanket fell away. "I do not mean to trouble you more," he said. "But I am looking for two people. One is called Margaret Agnusdei, and the other... The other..." His voice trailed. One of two humans he had seen in the past years, and he couldn't even remember his name? Had he ever known his name? "He is a scientist," Matteo said, hoping that was something to go on. "I must meet with them, if they are not yet deceased."

* Avete dormito bene? - Italian, Did you sleep well?

Mary stepped back again as the angel sat him. She looked at the blanket that was oh so close to leaving him uncovered and recognized it as hers. She must have given it to him last night. That explained the bin on the floor. As he continued to move, the blanket came so close to falling away that she brought her hand to her face in order to be prepared to shield her eyes. She looked at him, focusing on his face as he smiled at her and began to speak. This was awkward to say the least but she got herself into this mess and let a naked man into her home.

She listened as he spoke. It seemed to her that he hadn't spoken in a long time by the way he paused and the roughness of his voice. Which was said to say the least. When he mentioned her 'rain machine', she realized that he had tried to use her shower and that must be the reason why the water was running this morning. She rubbed her temple. This person really didn't know how to function. She sighed. "You didn't wake me... I woke myself up. I'm the one who should apologize for waking you up..." she repeated the Italian words in her head. She only knew Latin but since Italian derived from Latin she was able to make a good guess as to what he had asked. "Did I sleep good?" She asked back to make sure she had the correct translation. "I suppose I did. What about you, Mr. Angel?"

Her pounding headache was slowly going away, that is until the man stood up, leaving himself exposed again. Mary quickly looked away and covered her eyes. As awkward as it was before, it just got a million times worse. "Margaret Agnusdei? Her last name is literally 'Lamb of God'. But I never heard of her and you have to give me a little bit more information than 'he is a scientist'." She shook her head. "First things first. Sit back down and cover yourself! We need to get you some pants."

Mary walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Now that she was up close to him, she realized that this angel was a whole head taller than her. Regardless of the height difference, she forced him to sit down. "Please stay there and don't move until I get back. I'm going to get you some clothes." She turned and went to grab her purse. "I can't have a conversation with a guy dress in only a blanket." She walked towards the door and slid her feet into her flip flops. She wasn't planning on leaving her apartment, but honestly, she needed some space between her and the streaker. "Don't move, angel. I'll be back ASAP." she walked out and locked the door behind her

This woman seemed so panicky now, and her eyes kept moving to his thigh. Matteo looked down at it, at the whole lower half of his body. There was still blood there. He assumed she was wary of that, so Matteo awkwardly crossed his legs in an effort to hide his bloodied skin. Doing so, however, just gave her a clearer view of all she did not want to see, but the oblivious angel was none the wiser.

He didn't like being called Mr. Angel, but perhaps that was the truth of matters now. Regardless of how he'd been born, he'd spent six years being reborn as a gift from God. His wings twitched at the thought. He was about to tell her to call him by a different name, but suddenly he forgot how. ​My calling? No, that isn't the word. You may refine... Refurbish... Refer. You may refer to me as... But by the time he'd figured out what names to use she was already moving on, and Matteo didn't dare interrupt her.

It was appearing as though she would be little help. Maybe stories of his mother and her scientist hadn't made the papers after all. Well, there was no surprise. If it had been common knowledge, their entire operation would have been shut down. He turned away, trying hard to remember the name of the scientist. Didn't he wear a name tag? Yes, it was a rectangle, and it was blue, with golden letters on it, but for the life of him Matteo could not remember what it had said. He was growing aggravated, but that aggravation soon became surprise as the woman shouted at him. He needed pants? What were pants?

She looked up to him, and up close he could see the determination in her eyes. What did she see in his own? Bewilderment? Innocence? Pure rage? He nodded weakly, not sure what to say. At least now he knew what pants were. They must have been clothes, and if shirts went on top the pants must have been what covered legs and everything between them. He didn't understand what was wrong with his current state, though. She was acting as if it weren't socially acceptable to walk around naked. But Matteo just shrugged. He didn't know what ASAP meant, but he would definitely ask her as soon as she returned.

So he was left alone again. He walked around the apartment, trying to learn more about this woman he found himself living with. She had religious things around, and a lot he didn't recognize. The blue lady statue was moved. Had she noticed he'd broken it? An idea came to mind, and suddenly, Matteo started searching the apartment. When he found what he was looking for, he sat back down on her couch, and he placed the Mary statue firmly between his legs. He got right to work reattaching the pieces with glue and pressing on them until it stayed. There were many pieces since one piece of the statue was shattered, but the angel was patient, and he eventually got to each one.

When the woman returned, she'd be able to see a too-religious statue too close to a man's exposed body. She'd also be able to see the precision with which he'd fitted each piece together. As soon as the glue dried, that statue would be good as new. And slightly cracked.