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030. Death
Thirty-three years, Aziraphale thought. Thirty-three years, not a full life even for a human, and how it had to come to its end.
He looked up to the hill, the three pitiful figures hanging there, and felt vaguely sick.
This was wrong, he felt. This shouldn't happen. Ineffable or not, this was wrong, this couldn't be according to the Plan, something had been misunderstood and there had been a mistake and this couldn't happen...
"Angel?" asked a quiet voice behind him. Without turning around he knew it was Crowley.
"What are you doing here?" he asked stiffly. He really didn't want to see the demon right now. "Gloating over your side's victory? If so, leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you at the moment."
"I'm not here to gloat," muttered Crowley. "Look, I'm feeling horrible too, okay? You may suffer because your precious Son of Man is hanging there, but it's not any easier on me. His suffering there, it's all Divine. I feel like throwing up."
"Nice to know I'm not the only one miserable here," Aziraphale said dryly, but he couldn't summon quite the usual venom into his words. He simply felt too bad right now. Sighing, he leant against a wall. "He is dying. He is dying, and the humans make His death a cause of celebration."
"I know." Crowley was silent for a moment. Then, he said quietly, "I didn't call for Barabbas." The demon swallowed, then continued, "I couldn't call for Him, that'd have cost me more than my head – but I didn't call for Barabbas, either. This is all just sick, all of this."
"I guess that's something of a comfort," Aziraphale sighed. "Too bad the humans didn't do as you did." Glancing again up to the hill, he said quietly, "I wonder how long He will still stand this pain..."
"Not much longer, I think," Crowley muttered darkly. "However much He may be the Son of God, He is still in a mortal body, and that has its limits. Sooner or later He will have to give up the fight."
"Yes," Aziraphale sighed, "I do fear so."
It had been dark for quite some time, for almost three hours now. It made the even otherwise uncomfortable situation even more agonizing. Ignoring the humans hurrying about, the angel and the demon stood side by side, both their eyes following the scene on the hill even as they talked quietly with each other.
Suddenly, Crowley said, "Something is happening."
As though following some hidden cue in his words, a loud cry came from up the hill, too quiet for any human ears to catch it properly from so far away but definitely audible enough for their supernatural hearing. And, following this cry, an enormous wave of Divinity washed over them, knocking them both down with its intensity. The earth began to shake, rocks splitting and walls breaking in the grasp of the enormous forces.
"I wonder what Uriel is thinking," muttered Aziraphale before he realized there was nobody listening to his words anymore. Crowley lay on the ground, knocked unconscious by the power of the Divinity.
"How is he?" asked Michael quietly.
"A bit better," sighed Raphael. "The sudden imbalance just caused him to collapse. For a moment he managed to compensate for it by channelling his own power – I'm sure you didn't manage to miss the earthquake and other little details – but then it became too much for him." He shook his head. "Even I notice that the Presence feels weaker."
"It's not only that it's weaker," Michael said darkly. "It is that a part of it has now been taken by Him to death. We only notice its absence – Uriel still senses the missing part, but he also senses the burden of Death on it."
"You may be right." Raphael seemed quite sad. "Go and see him now. He's conscious again and asking for you."
Michael didn't need to be told twice. Quickly he made his way past the Healer and into the room where his lover was resting. Seeing Uriel's miserable expression, he didn't hesitate for a moment before stepping to the bed's side and drawing the other into a warm embrace.
He couldn't even imagine how Uriel must have felt. Even he felt ill in a way he had never experienced before. To Uriel, the feeling of illness – of sheer wrongness – must have been even more intense.
Uriel didn't day anything, just clutched onto him. Michael held him close, also wordless.
He wouldn't have known what to say, anyway.
"You feeling any better?" Aziraphale asked gently.
"Somewhat," Crowley sighed. "Not too good, though. It's a wonder I didn't get discorporated right away." He pouted. "I guess I should thank you for getting me out of there," he said. "I won't, though. It'd ruin my reputation."
"I understand completely," Aziraphale replied calmly. "However, I couldn't just leave you there to die, however much of an enemy you are. It wouldn't be angelic." He tried to hide the sweat drops beginning to form on his forehead. He couldn't be feeling as bad as Crowley, so he had no right to complain.
"Apparently Uriel still hasn't got you with his lectures of no mercy," muttered Crowley. "Besides – hey, wait a minute. How are you doing?" The golden eyes were sharp on him, noting the little signs of not-wellbeing.
"I'm okay," muttered Aziraphale. "It's just... Some of the Presence disappeared along with Him. And like that wasn't enough, it hurt Uriel so much he lost consciousness, which also slightly affects the Presence. I very much doubt any angel is feeling very great at the moment."
"You realize Hell's going to rejoice for ages now," sighed Crowley. "Your Saviour is dead, one of the archangels is out of the game and all angels are weakened. You'll be fortunate if they don't outright attack Heaven."
"They wouldn't be so stupid," Aziraphale replied. "And besides, there is no time for an organized attack. We only have to wait until the third morning."
"Are you sure?" asked the demon slyly – well, at least as slyly as somebody in his state could, bedridden and exhausted though quick on the way of recovery. "What if your dear Plan is flawed?"
"It hasn't been this far," the angel shot back. "And if we don't have faith, then who will?"
To this, Crowley found no response.
Next Prompt: Sunrise