Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Again, it's very early in the day to post this -- to be exact, about 4:30 AM. However, I'm not sure whether I'll have the time to post this in the evening, so you'll just have the next chapter very early.

I like writing the archangels. I really, really like writing them -- even more so than I suspected I would when I planned the storyline. Expect to see a lot of them in the future -- probably mostly Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, but occasionally Uriel, too.

Anyway. On with it!

Chapter 3:

Annoying Agreement

"Aww, this is good," Gabriel chuckled. "A demon having problems with Christmas gifts? Why, I never thought I'd actually see this day!" He ate the rest of his bisquit with one bite, then wiped a few tiny crumbs away from his denim-clad leg. Being His main messenger to the inhabitants of Earth (and the most eager observer of the affairs of humanity in all of Heaven) he had picked up most human traits of the four archangels. Right now he was wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt that read, "100 Angel."

"I'd be much happier if I didn't want to see it now, either," grumbled Uriel, sending a dark glare at the small sphere that currently showed a very distracted demon walking down a street. "Is it really necessary to spy on that vile creature even now? Isn't it bad enough that I know somebody like him exists at the first place?" Never one to forgo his angelic position, Uriel was even now dressed in his usual white robe, his short, black curls shining clean and neat in the light that seemed to be coming from nowhere.

"Stop being such a spoilsport, Uriel," sighed Raphael, rolling his eyes. "Just because you never have fun doesn't mean that nobody else's allowed to have fun, either. And besides, the demon is interesting."

"Oh, yes," muttered Uriel sarcastically. "I've always loved seeing how hellish beasts plan on our destruction. Forgive me, Raphael, if my concept of 'fun' is not the same as yours."

"I think you've never really had fun," Michael commented lightly. "You're far too uptight, Uriel -- and, coming from me, you know it's bad. It'd do good to you to let loose every once in a while."

"That is exactly what makes angels Fall!" bellowed the darkhaired angel. "And I shall not Fall!"

"Now, now, Uriel. None of us is about to Fall anytime soon," Raphael said dryly. "So, anyway. We have to go to check the main choir," he then said, standing up and smoothening his light grey business suit. Gabriel followed his example. Their casual clothing made way to robes of silver, gold, and pearly white.

"They've been practicing day and night for a whole week now!" Uriel snapped irritably. He obviously didn't have a good day. Then again, Uriel was by nature so grumpy that most angels counted it as His direct intervention if Uriel actually had a good day. "When do you think it'll be enough? The main choir has been the same for a couple of millenia, I'd think they are good enough already even without more practice!"

"Well, there are some that keep telling us that they should practice more," Gabriel said lightly. "After all, we're only His messenger and the archangel of healing. According to some, the main choir can never be good enough unless the archangel of Arts is leading it..."

The darkhaired angel gritted his teeth. "That's a human belief," muttered the not-very-eager patron saint of Arts. "Our posts had been set millenia before the humans decided to set us in new positions!"

"But the humans believe in what they have made up," Raphael commented with a smile. "You should know how much power simple belief can contain. Therefore, my friend, you are the angel of Arts..."

The two standing archangels disappeared from that particular plane of existence just in time to avoid the teacup that was sent flying after them. Michael appeared still unfazed, and merely raised an eyebrow at his fuming colleague. "Hmm. Sensitive much, eh?" he asked casually. The only response he received from Uriel was a dirty glare and something muttered low enough for him not to hear -- which was probably good.

His second in command stood also. In black trousers and a shirt, his blond hair on a high ponytail, Michael looked rather unangelic -- and also very dangerous. As the Warrior Prince of Heaven, he always looked dangerous, thanks to the aura of power and skill that surrounded him everywhere, but he also carefully chose his clothing to confirm that message. Now, however, his human clothes disappeared, leaving him in a gleaming armor of red and gold, a sword sharper than any other weapon hanging on his hip.

"And what are you going to do?" asked Uriel irritably. "Walk around asking if everybody knows the words for the songs so that they're ready for the Night? That's all just waste of time!"

"Well, even that'd be better than your sulking," Michael replied calmly. "Christmas is coming, Uriel; you should be rejoicing, like every other being in the Heaven and down on the Earth! And, for your information, I am going to lead a small group of cherubim to slay demons that have wandered to the Earth."

"But not one of them," the other archangel commented snidely as their little teaplace faded into inexistence around them, leaving them right in the middle of Heaven. "You're going to leave him alone, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." Michael's calmness never left him. "And if you must know, it is by His command that I do so. Nobody is to harm the demon Crowley, for he is very dear to one of His servants."

"And a horrible enemy to the rest. It is unnatural, Michael! Why don't you see it?" The two passed a small group of lower angels as they flew through the busy streets of their miraculous home town. "No angel is meant to love a demon -- to sleep with a demon! That is just -- just -- wrong!"

Now, Michael stopped and turned to face the other celestial being once again. "It is by His hand that this has been allowed to happen, and it is by His command that it is allowed to go on," he said quietly, his azure blue eyes firmly locked at a set of similar ones. "Neither you nor I are going to do anything about the angel Aziraphale or the demon Crowley. They are absolutely off limits. Understood?"

Uriel nodded stiffly. "I still don't like it," he muttered darkly.

"Nobody's asking you to," replied the Prince of Heaven, rolling his eyes. "Just do as you're told."

Then both archangels flew away, both occupied with their own tasks and thoughts. Neither noticed the few lower angels gathered below them, ones that had caught only parts of their discussion -- dangerous parts.

"A demon sleeping with an angel?" muttered one of them, horrified. "How terrible that is!"

"Indeed," another replied. "We must put an end to it immediately! Such a thing surely can't be allowed!"

"On that we shall agree," said the third one. And with that, they sealed their agreement. The content of the agreement, unspoken but understood, was to destroy the demon known by the name Crowley, or otherwise separate him from the angel Aziraphale, whom he had wrongly seduced.

Of course, none of these angels knew just who had told to simply leave the two be.

Next chapter:

Crowley and Aziraphale are both having a hard time trying to come up with ideas for presents. Things happen to help both of them, though.