The one promised drink turned out to be more like three or four, although Crowley insisted it was still the same one as long he refilled it before the glass was empty. As the warmth of it spread throughout Gabriel's chest, the angel decided that it wouldn't hurt anything if he stayed a bit longer - in order to prevent the demon from doing whatever nefarious deeds he'd had planned, of course.

In the end, however, he didn't tarry much past midnight, when wicked All Hallow's Eve passed into pious All Saints Day and Crowley joked about ghoulies and beasties needing to get their heads down. Besides, Gabriel really did need to go see Haniel. He cleared the alcohol from his system - the loose, relaxed feeling remaining somehow - said his goodbyes, and disappeared back up to Heaven.

Uncertain how exactly to bring up the matter with the Lover, Gabriel first knocked lightly on the open door of Haniel's second-in-command.

"Sariel?" he asked, peering into the bright, airy studio.

The angel of inspiration looked up from his easel and smiled dreamily. He had paint smudged across one cheek and another drip in his long hair. "Hello, Gabriel. You look very... professional today." He paused, eyes narrowed critically as though he were getting ready to paint Gabriel's portrait. "Is that Remiel's coat?"

Gabriel looked down at his clothes with some dismay; he'd forgotten to change. "Er, yes. I borrowed it for Halloween."

"Oh, is it Halloween?" Sariel asked brightly. "Everyone always looks so lovely on Halloween..."

"It was," replied the archangel cautiously. Talking to Sariel could be somewhat disconcerting; one never really knew what was going to happen next.

The virtue nodded in understanding. "And you wanted to keep the coat afterward because it smells like Remiel, right? Does it still?" Rather than wait for an answer, Sariel stood and buried his nose in Gabriel's collar. "Oh! It does..."

Gabriel started and took a step back instinctively. "Um. Quite." A door on the far wall with the Lover's name on it in peeling gold letters seemed the only obvious means of escape for him now. "Sariel," he said, "would you let Haniel know that I'd like to speak with him, please?"

"I can't..." sighed Sariel sadly, still standing in Gabriel's personal space.

"Can't?" repeated the Messenger faintly. "Why ever not?"

"The boss isn't here. Won't be back for weeks. Left for some big project, he said."

Oddly enough, Gabriel's first thought was that Crowley owed him a thousand pounds. But his second was, "And he didn't tell you where he was going?"

"Of course he did, silly. But he said I wasn't to tell that stuffy drip anything about it. Meaning you." Sariel grabbed Gabriel's hand suddenly and tugged him nearer to one of the windows. "Oh, that's nice. The light brings out the cerulean in your eyes much better here."

"I... Yes." The archangel didn't know what to say about that - or what to think about Haniel's disappearance.

Sariel smiled, and it was a disarming look, like that on the face of a child who's about to ask where babies come from. "So, have you seen that pretty demon lately?"

Gabriel nearly gaped at the jarring change in subject. "What?"

"The one with the beautiful eyes," Sariel elaborated. He tilted his head curiously, and then added as something rather like an afterthought, "Would you say that they're more goldenrod or dandelion?"

"Gold..." Gabriel began. "Wait, what? Why do you ask?"

The virtue went back to his seat by way of an answer, flipping around the canvas he'd been working on. Crowley gazed frankly out at the archangel through half-lidded eyes, his head thrown back in ecstasy. He sat nude on a stool, his hands tightly gripping the sides; the only concession to modesty being a gossamer fabric draped across his lap. The demon's body was covered with swirling, inky patterns and illuminated by a very baroque shaft of light that shone from an angle, picking out highlights and deepening shadows.

The Messenger felt vaguely ill.

"Do you like it?" asked Sariel brightly. "I can't quite get the color of his eyes right, but isn't he handsome? He was a lovely canvas..."

"He posed for you?" Gabriel asked in a small voice. "Like that...?"

"Oh no!" Sariel exclaimed, and the archangel felt some bizarre relief, until, "I added the little cloth."

The blood pounding in his ears, the Messenger felt suddenly overwhelmed with physical sensation.

"Are you all right, Gabriel?" inquired the worried-looking virtue. "You've gone very pale. Would you like some water? Or there's the couch in Haniel's office if you'd like to lay down…"

"No," murmured the archangel. "No, I think I'll just…" He waved a hand vaguely at the door and left without further ceremony. Sariel's eyes tracked him until the moment he disappeared out of sight, and then the virtue shrugged and hauled his canvas back to his workspace.

Making his way to his own office, Gabriel couldn't have said who passed him in the hallowed halls or what route he'd taken. Dobiel tried to say something as he passed, but he ignored her, shutting his door behind him. Gabriel sagged into his chair and put his suddenly aching head on the desk.

After a few minutes, there was a light tap on the door and his second poked her head in, a look of concern on her face. "Gabriel? Is everything all right?"

The Messenger looked up, his features as serene as ever. "Yes, Dobiel, thank you."

"Sariel stopped by," she persisted. "He said you were ill."

"I feel perfectly fine now," said the archangel. "I was lightheaded for a moment, but it was likely just the fumes from Sariel's paints."

She looked unconvinced. "Can I get you anything?"

"How about those status reports from South America?" Gabriel suggested. "And anything else that requires my attention."

Dobiel frowned. It wasn't what she'd meant, and she knew that he knew that. But she nodded anyway. "Yes, Gabriel." With a swish of her skirt, the authority left.

She returned soon after, her arms full of documentation, and Gabriel gladly buried himself in the paperwork.

A few hours later there was another knock at the door, and the Messenger looked up to see kind, dark eyes outlined in kohl.

"May I help you, Raphael?"

The Healer smiled. "I was going to ask the same of you. I hear you're not feeling well."

Gabriel shot his friend a wry look. "Reports of my demise are greatly exaggerated."

"Mmm," said Raphael noncommittally. "From the state Dobiel was in, I expected a broken neck at least."

"As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

The light glinted off the glittery graphic on the front of Raphael's t-shirt as he moved behind Gabriel's chair. "Actually, your lungs are a little irritated," he said thoughtfully, "and your shoulder muscles are tighter than one of Michael's drill team formations."

"Just got back from London," Gabriel said.

"That would explain the smoke at least." The Healer put his hands on Gabriel's back; the Messenger felt a curious tingle as Raphael cleared out every last bit of the pollutants he'd inhaled. Then the Healer began to rub across the Messenger's shoulders and neck, beginning with light pressure and gradually increasing it whenever he found a knot.

His head lolling forward in contentment, Gabriel murmured, "You don't have to do that."

"I know." Raphael's smile was clear in his voice. "But I enjoy it, and I don't get to do it very often. You know, I think it's been almost a year since I last gave a massage. It was that demon in London. Crowley."

Gabriel sat bolt upright.

"Whoa! You're going to undo all my work…"

The Messenger pulled a sheaf of papers closer to him. "Thank you for your assistance, Raphael, but I have a great deal of work to see to at the moment. You can rest assured that I am well."

"But…"

"Thank you, Raphael."

The Healer dropped his hands, picking awkwardly at the hole in his jeans. With one last inscrutable look, he walked out.

With a sigh, Gabriel picked up his pen once more. However, it wasn't long before he was interrupted again - this time by an angel with sandy hair and a vaguely bewildered gaze.

"Hello?"

"Come in, Remiel," said Gabriel, resigned.

The angel of hope took a few steps inside the door and stopped, looking uncertain.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Gabriel asked him. The seraph was acting even more lost than usual.

"What? Oh." Remiel removed the tiny headphones from his ears, and it was only then that Gabriel noticed the wire connecting them to an electrical device at his waist. "Sorry, Gabriel. Couldn't hear a thing with those in."

The archangel raised an eyebrow.

"Right," said Remiel. "So, erm, I was wondering if you were finished with my coat…"

"Oh!" Gabriel stood and shrugged out of the lab coat. "Yes, of course. Thank you for letting me borrow it. Sariel thought I was keeping it because it smelled like you."

"Does it?"

"Apparently…"

Remiel laughed. "And I'll bet I know how he found out."

Sharing a knowing smile, Gabriel handed over the coat. Remiel pulled it on and popped one of the earbuds back into his ear.

"What are you listening to?" asked the Messenger as the faint strains of music began to play on the edge of hearing. He hadn't thought the seraph was all that involved in the choirs.

"Queen," Remiel answered. "A rock and roll band. Have you heard of them? When I went down to his flat, the demon Crowley…"

Gabriel knocked over a stack of papers on his desk.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Remiel exclaimed, bending to help pick up the mess.

"No!" said Gabriel. "They're… no, it's fine. I'd better clean this up myself. Thank you."

"If you're sure…"

The archangel made a sharp hand gesture, and the papers were neatly stacked in order once more.

"I'm sure."

Remiel frowned suddenly, his nursing instincts coming to the fore. "You know, Gabriel, you look a bit peaky. Would you like me to fetch Raphael?"

Going very still, Gabriel said calmly. "No, thank you, Remiel. I feel fine. Now I have urgent business elsewhere, so if you don't mind…"

The chief seraph blinked. "Oh. Right. Goodbye. See you later." With one more glance over his shoulder, Remiel left.

Before anyone else could stop by, Gabriel quickly gathered up his papers and stepped out the door. "Dobiel," he ordered his second, "I'm going down to the accounting office for some quiet. I am not to be interrupted."

She gazed at him with wide blue eyes. "Yes, sir," she said after a moment's hesitation.

And Gabriel was gone.