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021. Friends

Aziraphale was lonely.

Of course, this was not exactly a unique situation. He often found himself feeling lonely, being the only angel permanently situated on Earth. Gabriel's visits were his greatest delight, bringing him both company and news from Heaven, and he also visited Heaven himself whenever he felt his duties would allow it. However, it had been a while since he'd last seen his brother, and he was lonely.

Sighing, he leant back, lying himself down on the rock he'd previously been sitting on, looking up to the sky. A couple of white clouds made slowly their way across the deep blue sky. Aziraphale couldn't help but think of the pristine white buildings of Heaven. His room there was always so peaceful, its silence only occasionally disturbed by the sounds of conversation from the rest of the apartment, reminding him that the others were close by.

Of course, Earth was fascinating. Its wonders would probably never stop amazing him, and every day he learnt something new about the world – and humanity. Humans were all around, more and more of them by every passing day, giving him something to watch and look after. There were good humans and bad humans, and humans who were neither, and also those who were both. He walked among them, sometimes invisible to them, sometimes as one of them, and looked and listened and tried to understand. As fascinating as they were, sometimes they were also hard to comprehend. Even after all these years, Aziraphale still found himself sometimes at a loss when he watched humans.

Still, he was never truly one of them. He wasn't a human, even when he looked and behaved like one of them. Whenever he ate, breathed, or even slept, he still remembered that he didn't have to, that he could just skip doing it and be just fine. The humans around him couldn't. They were different.

Their lives were so short, too. What was a lifetime – literally – to them, from birth to grave with a full set of work and family in between, was hardly more than a blink of an eye to him. He watched as years passed by, as one day turned into another, and remembered the first Days and how he then had thought them short. Even if he hadn't felt himself different, he still wouldn't have dared to try befriending a human. Their death would have come so soon, and then he would again be alone, but this time also mourning a friend.

Although Heaven couldn't always satisfy his endless curiosity like Earth could, at least there he was one of them. There he was surrounded by others just like him, their means and needs the same as his. There he didn't have to fear the death of a friend, didn't have to wonder whether he would soon find that the house he had been watching over for years had been destroyed in what seemed almost overnight to him. And thus, no matter how great was his thirst for learning more, he still occasionally longed to go back to Heaven.

Slowly, he was beginning to understand just how loneliness could have driven Uriel to such a drastic deed. Sure, he wasn't about to do such a thing, not being truly depressed – at least nowhere enough to even seriously consider ending his existence – but he could imagine how seemingly endless loneliness, the feeling of not belonging, could cause such a depression to take place in someone. On the worst days he was infinitely grateful for the Presence, which never abandoned him, and shivered in fear whenever he thought about possibly losing it – even temporarily.

The sun was creeping towards the peak of its journey over the sky, and Aziraphale wondered when Uriel had last checked that it was still working well. Of course, he hadn't noticed any irregularities, and he doubted there would be any – His creation worked just like He had intended it to work, after all – but it was, in the end, one of the archangel's duties. Or had that, among other things, also been made somebody else's responsibility? He didn't know.

An aura was approaching him, and a familiar one at that. Not bothering to look around, his eyes still fixed to the sky, he said lazily, "Go away, vile serpent." His hand was raised in a half threat, half greeting, then let down onto the smooth surface of the rock again.

"No, I won't," replied Crowley calmly, flopping down next to him. "What are you doing here all alone, angel? I could have got into so much mischief without you even noticing."

"I was just that," Aziraphale replied, "being alone." There was a moment of silence, after which he sighed. "It's just so difficult at times, you know. There are people all around us, but still, we are alone in the end, aren't we? We can interact with humans, but we don't really belong among them."

"Hmm-mm." Crowley didn't say anything for some time. Then, he said, "You're depressing, angel. Do you know what you need? You should get laid. I know this lovely young maiden who –"

"Shut up," growled Aziraphale. "I will not give into your temptations, as you very well know."

"Yes, I know," replied the demon, the smirk audible in his voice. "It's still fun to try, though."

Aziraphale sat up again, eyeing the slender form lying beside him. Crowley was attractive, that would never be questioned; after all, tempting people into sin was his sole purpose of existence. The demon was now completely relaxed, enjoying the warmth, drinking sunlight with every cell in his body. Slit pupils followed his movements from half-closed eyes.

"We should be fighting," Aziraphale said wistfully. He wasn't sure whether his tone was because they weren't fighting or because they should have been. Possibly both. "We should be mortal enemies."

"We are immortal enemies," countered Crowley. "What's the point, really? You kill me, I come back, I kill you, you come back, so on and so on. Perhaps we don't get to write down as many kills in our reports as we used to, but otherwise we both get more done. And besides, this way Raphael isn't nagging at you on every turn."

Aziraphale shot Crowley a glare. The demon was not supposed to know about Raphael's nagging tendencies. He was not supposed to in any way remind Aziraphale of the time they had both been in Heaven, together, as friends.

Of course, they were not friends now, rather just tentative allies. No, not even that; they were still firmly on opposite sides. The difference was that now, they didn't try to hurt each other as badly as possible at every given opportunity. And, like Crowley said, they did both get more work done when they didn't have to spend most of their time waiting for a new corporation.

It was still unnerving, in a way. Although Aziraphale had already lost count of the years that had passed since Crowley's last attack, he still subconsciously expected the demon to strike at any moment. Unlike Crowley, he still couldn't truly relax in the other's company. Once he had loved and trusted Carowiel as his friend, yet he had been killed by his friend – who had been an angel at the time. And if a friend could turn against him in a battle, how could he expect an enemy to simply let him be?

He was tempted, horribly tempted, to think of Crowley as a friend. He was indeed lonely, and while Crowley wasn't an angel anymore, he wasn't a human, either. Nobody else on Earth could have come even half as close to understanding how he felt. Still, he resisted. It had to be a plan, a horribly complicated plan designed to make him lower his guard before the strike.

Of course, he couldn't imagine why Crowley would wait so long just to kill him once again. Then again, he couldn't imagine why Carowiel, the one warrior who surely could have beaten him in a fair battle, had decided to attack him from behind like a coward. And thus, he didn't let his guard completely down.

Not even when the demon was – apparently – fast asleep beside him.

The door was opened, and Gabriel immediately turned to look at the one entering the room. His eyes widened as he saw Uriel. Though apparently not wounded, the other archangel seemed to be in great pain, leaning against the doorframe as though standing without its support would have been a task too enormous for him.

"Where is Michael?" asked Uriel, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "I couldn't find him…"

"He was suddenly called off," Gabriel said, tentatively standing up. "As far as I recall, though, he was going to leave a note for you. Didn't you find it?"

"No…" Uriel shook his head tiredly. He was hugging himself as though he were cold. "When will he come back?" There was a horrible loneliness in his voice that made Gabriel's heart ache.

"He couldn't say." Slowly, Gabriel walked to his friend's side. "Uriel?" he asked quietly. "Can I do anything to help?"

For a moment Uriel looked at him as though he hadn't heard a word. Then, suddenly, the other archangel clutched onto his robes, holding on as though his existence depended on it.

"Hold me," he whispered, his voice just barely audible even to Gabriel's angelic hearing. "Just… please. I don't want to be alone…"

Gabriel did, embracing his friend while mixed emotions coursed through him. On one hand, he could feel the pain and loneliness radiating from Uriel, and it caused him to hurt as well to even think that somebody could feel so utterly alone while surrounded by the whole Host. On the other hand, though, he felt deeply honoured. Uriel was, like he had learnt over the millennia they had spent together, very reserved. He kept his feelings closely hidden, only a few chosen ones ever seeing the side of him that wasn't always calm, always in control. Even though Gabriel had previously been allowed to see his happiness and amusement, true pain was something he had only ever voluntarily shown to Michael. That Uriel allowed himself to break down so completely now meant that he trusted Gabriel immensely.

For some time Gabriel just held his friend, not saying a thing, waiting for Uriel to speak first. And, after some time, Uriel did.

As Uriel began to speak, his voice was quiet and monotonous. "An older Throne, with female appearance," he said. "She was called Oraphiel. Her sins were Greed and Pride, attempting to gather power from others and rise above her peers. She was one of Raphael's, with short red hair and grey eyes, and she had a brother who cried when she Fell. Despite not being properly trained she attempted to fight me, but my sword found its target before she could even scratch me."

The grip on Gabriel's clothes got even tighter as Uriel struggled to tell the whole story. "She screamed when she Fell, they almost always do, and her wings burned with a bright orange flame as she fell and fell and Fell… And she is a demon now, Gabriel, she is a demon and I made her that, and she will never forgive me for that like will none of those with whom she now shares fate."

"It is not your fault," Gabriel whispered in response. "You followed His orders while she chose to turn away from Him. You have nothing to regret. If she hates you for her fate, it is misguided hatred, for the only one she can truly blame is herself. You mustn't let it bother you."

"Then why must He abandon me, too?" asked Uriel. "I must have done something wrong for Him to punish me so. But what? I have always strived to fulfil His Will. I've never, not with half a thought, considered doing something that might displease Him. Yet why am I the one punished?"

"I don't think it is a punishment," said Gabriel, trying to turn into words what he had often thought. "Rather, I think it is His way to remind you of what great power you wield in His service. You are His loyal servant, and He must know that, but you also bear a power difficult for others to even imagine. In His Presence you have the means of destroying any demon that should cross your path, yet in your sword also lies the downfall of any angel, should He will so. If you did not know his pain – if you did not know how it feels to Fall – the power might have corrupted you. Is it not that He loves you so much that He will rather hurt you temporarily than let you Fall and be forever led away from His Presence?"

"Then why did He make me so weak?" questioned Uriel. "Why did He make me so that it is almost impossible for me to bear the loneliness?"

"Maybe He thus wanted to bring you out of your lonely shell," Gabriel replied. "If you could bear being alone, you would have never reached out to us others. After Carowiel Fell, you didn't let anybody in. Through your pain He showed you that none of us can survive without others."

"Perhaps…" Uriel sighed. "I can hardly even remember what it was like before… before the Fall. When there was still Carowiel, and Aziraphale was still a cherub, and we were all here. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that time." Now, Uriel pushed back a bit, looking up at Gabriel, and the Messenger noted to his shock that the emerald eyes were veiled with tears. "But then, I wouldn't have Michael's love… Am I selfish, Gabriel? Am I selfish to think these things?"

"No, you aren't, Uriel," replied Gabriel, meaning it. "However merciless you may be, you are an angel, and as that, you are a being of love. It is not selfish to wish to be loved; it is a basic instinct for us."

"Yes…" Again, Uriel hugged himself. "Thank you, Gabriel," he said quietly. "Thank you for helping me." He tried to smile, but the smile was sad, broken, and lonely.

"There is no need to thank me, Uriel," Gabriel said. "I simply wish I could do more."

Slowly, Uriel shook his head, still smiling sadly. Then he turned around and left.

Although he did think of doing so, in the end, Gabriel didn't stop him.

Next Prompt: Enemies