Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: This chapter contains suicidal behaviour and an attempt at suicide. If such a thing offends or upsets you, please do not read this chapter.

You have been warned.

015. Blue

To put it simply, Aziraphale felt ill.

It was simply horrifying, all of it. Everywhere around him people lived in sin, caring nothing about God or His Will. They worshipped false gods, cared nothing about the sacred matrimony, drank and ate and paid no other thought to what awaited them in the end of it all.

He could simply not bear it anymore.

It was too much, all of it. The people who still believed were so very few, a couple of families at most, and the evil powers were weighing him down. He had to get out of there, recharge and rest, before he collapsed under the darkness.

Spreading his wings, he took off towards Heaven, a small sob escaping his chest.

Gabriel sighed as he walked through the halls of Heaven. Aziraphale's depression was had upset him quite a bit. Could the situation on Earth truly be that bad? He had known that humans had moved further away from Him, but hadn't realized just how bad it had got.

Perhaps Azirpahale was exaggerating, or had misunderstood the situation. Yes, that must be it. Humanity couldn't have abandoned Him so completely.

...But what if Aziraphale was indeed right?

Well, wondering alone would not bring any answers. Perhaps Uriel could tell him something? After all, as far as he could recall, Uriel had just been ordered to visit Earth.

With this in mind, he headed for the Pearly Gates, his intention to wait for the return of the other archangel.

Uriel closed the door to his quarters with shaking hands. He leant back against the door, the sword in his hand falling to the floor as his grip failed. He just managed to kick it away before his legs gave out and he sank to the floor, still trembling.

Green eyes were closed as the archangel tried to collect his thoughts. He had his arms wrapped around himself but they provided no warmth as overwhelming coldness washed over him.

He couldn't feel Him. In the middle of Heaven, in His own domain, the Angel of Divine Presence couldn't feel Him.

It wasn't the worst he had experienced, of course. Through the first Fall He had been with him all the time, thankfully, even if the pain had still been horrible, but he had Felled angels even after that, and several more powerful ones than the principality who had Fallen that day. However, he didn't think he had ever felt quite so cold and lonely ever before. It felt like he was the only being left in the whole Universe.

Had he said that he didn't require company he wouldn't have been exactly lying. Under normal circumstances he never felt lonely, His Presence accompanying him day and night like a loyal friend. However, whenever he had to Fell another angel, he lost the feel of the Presence for a while as well. Oh, he was still very much an angel; he didn't Fall. However, he couldn't feel Him. And it hurt.

An angel could only Fall once, they said; once you went down, there was no way out. Still he, the one who had never rebelled, never questioned, had to go through the pain of the Fall over and over again.

A pained gasp burst out as he once again tried uselessly to reach Him. He felt so cold and empty, like a fire that usually was aflame within him had suddenly been smothered. Without the protective aura he could also feel the Enemy's touch even here, in His Heavenly Kingdom.

Another kind of pain flashed through him from a wound on his arm, and he hissed quietly at it. The desperate angel -- now a demon -- had tried to protect himself with a cursed knife. In the end it hadn't helped, of course, but it had indeed left Uriel wounded.

Almost without his knowing one of his hands left its place futilely shielding him from the cold, reaching for the pouch on his belt, trembling all the time. Shaky fingers somehow managed to undo the strings keeping the pouch closed, reaching inside. His fingertips were burned as they met the cool metal object there, but he ignored the pain, drawing the knife out.

For a moment he just stared at the knife, holding it in his hand despite the pain it caused. He should have just destroyed it. However, he felt himself being oddly... drawn... to it.

The knife did burn, but not nearly as badly as his aching soul.

He was breathing heavily now, a true testament to the amount of his pain, even more so being his rapidly beating heart. His heart never beat, nor did he ever breathe unless absolutely necessary. To lose control of his body so completely...

A strangled sob escaped his chest as he brought the cursed knife to his wrist. He was not within the Presence now, nor did he have demonic powers to retain his essence. This was his chance. If he died now, the pain would hopefully be over forever.

The blade cut through his flesh, burning, hurting. Silvery blood gushed out of the wound, illuminated by a special inner glow. His essence, what might have been called his soul had he had one, was pouring out of him, his very existence nearing its end with each silver drop.

With violently trembling hands he cut open the other wrist as well, the knife falling to the ground as soon as he was done. At some point he had moved away from the door, now lying in the middle of the large room, bleeding to death in the very heart of the Golden City.

His sight was becoming dimmer by every passing second, the pain growing more distant as well. It felt like he was sliding away, falling further from existence. Darkness enveloped him, and he welcomed it like a dear friend.

He never heard the knocking on his door.

Aziraphale shivered. Staying in Heaven for a while had done him a lot of good, as had the company of his brother and the other archangels, although he had been upset to discover that Michael was still avoiding Uriel. Now, however, he could again sense evil, wrongness, here in the middle of Heaven. He didn't know what it was. However, he did know that it could cause nothing good.
Gabriel frowned as he headed towards the archangels' quarters. At the Gates he had heard that Uriel had already returned, looking quite distracted. The guards had also mentioned that something had seemed to be amiss with Uriel's aura, even though they had been unable to explain just what it had been. Nobody seemed to know where Uriel had gone to, though.

Therefore Gabriel soon found himself standing at Uriel's door, knocking at it. If something really was wrong with Uriel, this was where he would be found; he had always been a lonely wolf, like Michael had come to notice -- much to his disappointment.

Just as he thought about Michael the blond archangel came into sight. "Why are you here?" asked Gabriel, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were instructing virtues."

"True enough," Michael said, "but something's wrong with Uriel. I don't know what, but I know something isn't right. And even though I did promise to stay away from him, I have to see him to myself before I can believe that he's all right."

Gabriel blinked. Now that Michael mentioned it, he had an uneasy feeling, too, but he could have never connected it to Uriel. Well, all the more reason to find out what it was all about.

"Uriel?" he called out. "Uriel, are you there?"

There was no answer. However, he could now clearly feel Uriel's aura inside the rooms. Frowning again, he miracled the door unlocked. He was about to open it and step inside, but Michael beat him to that. Then, however, the warrior froze in the doorway. Frowning again, Gabriel walked to his side, trying to peer inside around Michael's considerably larger form.

For a moment he just stared at the horrifying sight before him, frozen. There was Uriel, indeed, lying motionless on the floor, a puddle of silvery blood spreading around him. On the floor, apparently fallen from his hand, lay a dagger that emitted clear demonic powers, its blade stained by the same silvery angel blood that was still pouring from the wounds on Uriel's wrists.

For a moment Gabriel stood there, frozen. Then he regained control over his body -- and cried out in horror, a wordless scream, echoed by Michael's even more desperate cry of one word, one name.

"Uriel!"

Next Prompt: Purple