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034. Not Enough


Just then, Raphael and Gabriel rushed inside. As they saw the situation and especially Michael's horrified expression, they did not hesitate. Within seconds they had torn Uriel away from Michael, and, with a wave of Gabriel's hand and a couple of sparks of Divine energy, put him lying on the floor, unconscious.

"Are you all right, Michael?" Raphael asked gently, glancing at the other angel worriedly. After all, he was the Healer; it was natural that he was first worried for everybody's well-being.

"I -- I don't know, actually," the blond archangel replied, sounding miserable. "The Presence -- it feels... weaker." By the end of the sentence, his voice was very quiet. "He tried to make me Fall..."

"Well, you most certainly haven't Fallen," Gabriel reassured him. "It appears we got here just in time. There might be some damage done by Uriel, but nothing that can't be fixed."

Michael nodded, still slightly dazed. He glanced miserably down at his now unconscious lover and Raphael, who had knelt down next to Uriel. "...Why?" he asked. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't think he was in his right mind," Raphael told him quietly. "For some time now I've suspected that something might be wrong with Uriel. This far, I haven't been able to tell for sure, but now I am certain. There's no way he would try to harm you in such a way otherwise."

"You are truly lucky he didn't manage," Gabriel mentioned. "By the way it looked, with your auras visible, the separation would have been quite violent and probably not easily redeemed."

"How did you know to come here, anyway?" asked Michael, wishing for something to occupy his mind with, anything but this betrayal. "You couldn't have known that something was wrong."

"Well, for that you can thank the young one," Gabriel said, and, to Aziraphale's great surprise, turned towards the glowing essence of his little brother. "I have no idea how, but somehow he managed to call for us. Without him, you now would likely have been separated from Presence by your own lover."

Had Aziraphale had the body to do so, he would probably have blushed. As it was, however, he just felt a sensation of warmth spreading through him, at the same time wondering how he had managed to do such a thing. Probably his shock and desperation had allowed him to contact his brother.

Now Raphael placed the fingertips of one hand on Uriel's forehead, his other hand laying flat on the black archangel's chest. The other occupants of the room watched in absolute silence as he did an examination of his obviously mentally damaged friend, all of them waiting for a diagnosis of some kind.

Suddenly Raphael trembled violently and started to slowly fall from his kneeling position. Gabriel, however, rushed forward and grasped him before he could fall on top of his patient, alarmed. "What is it, love?" he asked, worried.

"So much... pain," Raphael gasped, closing his eyes momentarily as he apparently tried to get his thoughts into some kind of an order. "There's so much pain and darkness inside him... it's unbelievable. The Enemy has managed to worm inside him through the small opening in his aura of Presence. His virtue and power both standing untouched, the Enemy decided to go for the only available goal -- his mind." With a pained glance at Uriel's immobile form, he continued, "I guess it's a true testament to Uriel's strength and intelligence that he has managed to hold it all together for so long already. His mind has been practically torn apart; I've never seen anything so badly damaged and mauled. How he still manages to form a single comprehensible word is a miracle alone; how we noticed nothing until now is nothing short of a wonder."

By now Michael had hid his face in his hands. To think of his lover going through such pain must have been horrible. Aziraphale ached for him, and at the same time he wondered just how Uriel had managed to do it. To constantly fight the Enemy for four millennia without breaking -- that was just unbeliavable.

"I -- I noticed the opening," Michael said quietly, his face still hidden. "He told me that -- that although he did cut Carowiel from the Presence, he gave his brother a bit of his own aura as he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Carowiel completely without it. And because of that... over four millennia! Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he let us know? We could have helped him!"

"He chose not to tell, and that was his decision," Gabriel said quietly. "A bad decision, though -- it hurts me to even think about such pain and damage. And how long he endured it!" For a moment, he was quiet; then he turned towards his lover. "Can you heal him, Raphael?" he asked, his voice still quiet.

"Yes, of course," the redhead replied quietly. "However, it will take quite some time, as no doubt I will need to rest several times before this has been completely healed. At first I have to make sure the Enemy no more gets in, but even that is enough to exhaust me." He cast an apologizing glance at Aziraphale. "I am sorry, Aziraphale, but it appears you will have to heal all by yourself for now. Although uncomfortable, your condition is not dangerous, but if I do not treat Uriel now, the damage will likely spread. And, although he has this far endured it, I fear that he will soon break permanently if this goes on."

Aziraphale couldn't very well nod or even voice his acceptance, but that wasn't needed, either. He realized very well that Uriel was now to be the healer's first priority. Therefore, he just floated around and watched in fascination and slight concern as Raphael started to weave the threads Uriel's aura consisted of, stretching them over the opening, reforming and bending and modifying. Michael and Gabriel watched too, their expressions mixtures of worry, fear, and desperate hope. There was an occasional grimace of pain to be seen on Uriel's face -- something that would have never been allowed through the usual mask of calmness, had the Angel of Divine Presence been awake. Only Raphael remained expressionless, concentrating solely on his work, his eyes reserved for the glowing threads he wove and bound.

Finally the red-haired healer sealed the threads of Uriel's aura and made a little gesture, allowing the aura to disappear from sight. Then he wavered in exhaustion, only to be again caught by Gabriel's ready hands. "I have closed his aura and sealed his mind," Raphael told them. "There will be no further damage for now. However, little remains of his true mind, and restoring even that little will take a lot of work and time." He now raised his tired gaze to Michael. "Michael, I have no doubt that his continued endurance of this torture is partly thanks to your love and support for him. Do not cease giving him that. Even after I've done what I can, there will be a lot of healing he has to go through by himself before he is even nearly healthy. One's body I can always heal, and a soul cannot be harmed, but a mind is a tricky matter, even more so when it's such a complicated one as Uriel's in question. Very likely there will never again be Uriel as we once knew him, but we must accept the new Uriel, and, more importantly, help him accept himself. And do not, under any circumstances, blame him for his attack on you. He didn't know what he was doing."

Michael nodded seriously. "I could never blame him for it," he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper but well audible to the angelic ears -- or, in Aziraphale's case, just angelic hearing -- of the other occupants of the room. "Rather I blame myself, for not being able to detect the damage earlier."

"There is nothing to blame yourself for," Gabriel said sternly. "None of us is to blame, not you, not Uriel, not anybody. The only one we can accuse of causing this is the Adversary and his forces."

"I know that," the leader of the Host sighed. "However, I cannot help thinking that maybe I could have prevented the damage had I noticed this earlier, or at least done something to ease his pain. I loved him, love him, will always love him -- but apparently my love is not enough to protect him." In a broken whisper, he repeated, "Not enough."

To that none of them could say anything.

Aziraphale glanced around in the room he was currently floating in. There were two miracled beds in the room. On one lay Uriel, looking very pale and fragile, and on another Raphael, sleeping soundly after the exhaustion of the first part of healing. Gabriel sat on the edge of Raphael's bed, gently petting his lover's hair and mumbling inaudible reassurances, while Michael stood beside Uriel's resting place, constantly alert. Whenever his lover even twitched -- which was quite often, as the dark archangel appeared to be sleeping rather restlessly -- he immediately leant forward, examining the situation. Not finding anything different from earlier, he then returned to his former watch spot.

Of course, Aziraphale couldn't really blame him for being so twitchy. He had every reason to be, what with his lover attacking him due to some Hell-originated mental problems.

Aziraphale hoped he could have said something, comforted Michael, told him it would be all right or at least better. However, he had no mouth, no lips or tongue to form any words, not even a hand to place on the Warrior's shoulder.

It was probably for the better, anyway. He wouldn't have known what to say.

Still silently floating in the air, he wondered what Heaven would do until Uriel recovered... if he ever did.

Next Prompt: Sixth Sense