Disclaimer: I own very little.

020. Colourless

It was not unusual to see Michael on the training field, of course. For some time it had also been fairly normal to see Uriel accompanying him, occasionally even participating in the practices. However, to see all four archangels there at the same time was truly rare.

This, however, was now the case. Michael had taken it upon himself to inspect the fighting skills of Gabriel's forces, which explained Gabriel's presence there. Like the Messenger admitted himself, it also did him some good to get some exercise as well. He hadn't been involved in too many battles lately, after all. Uriel used his daggers with more efficiency than most angels handled a sword, and Raphael merely watched. He had never been much of a warrior, and nobody expected him to be that, either. His job was to heal, not to damage.

Michael had actually managed to convince Uriel to pick up a sword for long enough to put up a mock-fight "to show those wimps what true warriors can do". Unsurprisingly, the battle ended with Michael holding his blade against Uriel's throat, but there had been a couple of close calls for the blonde as well. Just as Michael was about to start making comments about the fight to the attentively watching angels, however, he was rather surprised to find a knife pressed against his throat.

"Lesson number one about fighting," Uriel commented casually as he got back to his feet. "Never let your guard down. Had I been a true enemy, Michael would be slain by now. Of course," he then added thoughtfully, "if I were a true enemy, I would probably have been dead before I could get a knife out. Unless I managed to appeal to his sense of mercy, of course." His eyes were cold as he eyed the now very quiet angels. "In a battle against a demon, show no mercy. Show no pity. Know that your enemy will never show either to you."

"But that is exactly what makes us different from them," Gabriel said quietly, avoiding looking at his friend. "If we show no mercy, we are no different from the demons."

"A noble opinion," Uriel admitted. "And one suitable for one such as yourself, O Angel of Mercy. Some of us, however, cannot afford such a thing." It was all too obvious to the other archangels that he was referring to himself.

The rows of angels seemed uneasy, and Michael deemed this a suitable moment to start the actual training. Starting to bark commands -- although staying clear of Michaelese -- he quickly drew the general attention from his lover. If anybody dared as much as glance at Uriel, they were quickly made to regret it as Michael interpreted it as lack of attention.

Raphael made to talk with Uriel. Before he could even reach the other's side, however, they were suddenly interrupted as a messenger flew to the place.

"Trouble, Marshall!" said the angel, seemingly deeming the message important enough to forgo the usual formalities. Michael didn't really mind either way, but anybody who called him Marshall couldn't know that. Those who knew better than to bother with the formalities also knew they could get away with calling him Michael. "We got an emergency call from an angel on Earth. There is an alarming amount of demonic activity Down There, requiring immediate attention!"

"Very well," Michael said. "Does the message say how many and how powerful demons are about?"

The angel frowned, then said, "About twenty of them, none of them more powerful than an average Virtue. It shouldn't take many warriors, but some are needed and fast. Perhaps ten of the Cherubim --"

"Or perhaps not," Michael interrupted calmly. "Uriel, Gabriel? Are you up for a bit of exercise?" As the two other archangels looked at him questioningly, he grinned. "I think it's about the time for a proper demonstration. Surely your men know how to spy on humans; they should be very well able to observe as we get rid of those demonic annoyances."

"It is not called 'spying,'" Gabriel said dryly, "but yes, they are indeed capable of that. Very well. Shall we go, then?"

"But of course." Michael asked for more accurate coordinates, then clasped hands with the two others. For a moment they wavered, then vanished entirely from sight.

"Have mercy!" whined the small demon Gabriel had just wounded. "I can't even walk anymore; how do you expect me to fight?"

Gabriel bit his lip. Uriel's earlier words were still echoing in his mind. However, to him mercy was a basic instinct, even more so than to other angels. Thus, he immediately drew his sword further, then turned around to join the battle once more.

Suddenly he heard a quiet thud from behind himself, then a strangled moan. As he turned to look, he saw a silver dagger sticking out of the now lifeless demon's chest, the burns of holiness spreading further on the now lost demonic body. He gave a sharp gaze to Uriel. "That was unnecessary."

"Was it really?" The other archangel raised an eyebrow. "In case you wanted to know, this little rascal was just about to sink a knife into your back. That's what you get from showing mercy to demons." He pointed at the now dead demon's hand, where, true enough, lay a dagger. An unholy one, the weapon's aura told him. Even to an archangel such a thing could do bad damage.

Gabriel shivered. "I can't help it," he then said quietly. "It's in my nature."

"I know that," Uriel said with a grim smile. "Thus it is fortunate that you have me to watch your back, isn't it?" He threw another dagger. None of his knives missed its goal, but even if he had only hit an arm, for example, it wouldn't have mattered. The moment his weapons encountered demonic flesh, they spread holy energy, killing the creature within seconds, no matter how powerful it was. An archangel's aura could kill almost any demon if applied on full force. The aura of the Angel of Divine Presence was a destructive force no demon could withstand, even if it was being channelled through a thrown weapon.

Gabriel was discovering that he wasn't as much out of practice as he'd feared. He could do nowhere as well as Uriel, of course, partly because he preferred not to kill, and neither of them could even dream of being up to Michael's level. There were more like thirty or even forty of the demons than twenty, but they were proving to be no problem.

Suddenly Gabriel froze. He was sure he had seen something white flash between the demons. Clutching Uriel's arm, he demanded, "Quick. Check whether there are any other angels nearby."

Uriel raised an eyebrow, but then nodded. Connected to the Presence as he was, he could find almost any angel with some work. He didn't detect angelic auras as well as other angels did if he wasn't concentrating, though, as the feeling of Presence tended to drown them. On the other hand, he was quite a lot more efficient at detecting demons.

"A fourth angel, somewhere to that direction," he said. "As we're on Earth, it most probably is Aziraphale." His expression turned even more serious as he drew more daggers from his sleeves. "I fear he may be in need of help."

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel cried out as he rushed towards the direction Uriel had pointed to -- the same one where he had glimpsed a flash of white. "Are you there?"

The answer was slightly drowned with the noise the demons were making, but he still recognized his brother's voice. Now even more enthusiastic than before, Gabriel started to make his way towards Aziraphale.

As they reached him, the battle was pretty much coming to its end, their combined efforts having relieved most demons of their bodies. It was, like Gabriel realized upon seeing his brother, definitely not a second too early. Aziraphale seemed about to collapse, badly wounded and bruised. His face was void of any colour and his eyes slightly glazed as he looked at the two archangels.

Then he shook his head, his gaze focusing for a moment. His eyes were almost closer to grey than blue, and he was smudged with dirt and blood, but the angelic glow in him was unmistakable, having been drawn to the surface in the battle. "Apparently, we won," he said breathlessly. Then, he collapsed.

Uriel swiftly caught Aziraphale, lifting him into his arms just as Michael walked towards them, having finished off the last of the demons. Looking at his lover, he noticed to his satisfaction that all the blood on him was demonic. "Apparently, we do have one patient for Raphael," he said calmly. Michael nodded, only a momentary flicker of his eyes betraying any emotion at seeing the badly battered form of the young Principality. Setting one hand on Uriel's shoulder as the other one had no hands free, he then clutched Gabriel's hand. Gabriel in turn settled his free hand onto Uriel's shoulder -- although each of them could easily have done the journey all by themselves, it was still easier to do so together.

Soon, they were away along with Aziraphale, leaving behind the battered forms of the demons. Other angels would arrive shortly, disposing of the evidence of the battle. Their work there, however, was now finished.

"Well, at least he didn't get discorporated this time," sighed Raphael as he was presented the unmoving body of his lover's little brother. "Take him to his room and I'll see to him." Uriel nodded and started to walk towards the archangels' quarters, Gabriel and Raphael walking beside him. Michael went back to the practice field to take control of the now stray forces.

Once they had Aziraphale safely settled onto his bed, Raphael quickly examined him, then started to work on healing him. Starting on the worst wounds, he methodically moved from one injury to another, closing and mending and reshaping everything that was wrong. Gabriel watched attentively -- after all, this was his brother -- while Uriel entertained himself with examining the interior of the room. After a moment, however, Uriel stood up, announced his intentions to go to see how Michael was doing, and left the room.

After what seemed like eternity, Aziraphale finally stirred. A breath of relief escaped Gabriel's lips as he watched closely his brother's slowly opening eyes.

Aziraphale whispered something, very quietly. It was too quiet for even angelic ears to hear.

"What is it, Aziraphale?" asked Gabriel. "I didn't quite hear you." He leant closer to his brother to be better able to hear whatever it was that was being said.

"Crowley wasn't there," Aziraphale said, his voice still barely audible. "He didn't attack... he wasn't there."

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. Then he said, very quietly, "That's good."

In his mind, however, he wondered whether it really was any good at all.

Aziraphale sighed as he looked at the ceiling. Although he was now mostly recovered, he was still confined to bed, thanks to Raphael. Earth was going wild without him keeping an eye on humans, that he was sure about. Crawly -- or Crowley, like he nowadays insisted on being called -- was definitely going to use the situation on his advantage, like he always did.

Except that lately, there hadn't been any "situations". For the most part they had gone from full-blown battles to simple brawls, taunting each other even while they kept each other company. It perhaps wasn't the best way to deal with a demon, but it felt right somehow.

And besides, Crowley hadn't been one of the attacking demons.

For some reason, this greatly reassured Aziraphale.

Next prompt: Friends