Uriel raced after Michael, barely keeping up with him as they sped to Azrael's domain.

"How could you have let him take your ring, you idiot!" Michael shouted, his slightly shaggy and short light brown hair whipping around his handsome face and into his deep brown eyes.

"I don't know!" Uriel yelled back worriedly. "I was just laying there, I didn't sense him or feel it when he took it off, I don't know how he did it!"

"As soon as this is over, you be sure you pay a visit to Phanuel!" Michael ordered furiously.

"...Yes," Uriel agreed a bit meekly as they arrived at Azrael's small corner of heaven. He looked calm, leaning against his desk, where a blonde-haired and green-eyed figure sat at his desk, writing away in Azrael's large book.

"Achaiah?" Michael asked confusedly as he looked to the figure scribbling away, who did not even look up.

"Patron angel of patience," Azrael explained with a wink. "He's going to cover my duties while we are away."

"Away?" Uriel echoed. "Azrael, you're not really planning on going down there, are you?"

"No. I believe we should keep Gabriel on Earth just for decoration." Azrael rudely responded.

"It shouldn't be a problem getting down there. If Gabriel had really expected not to get caught, he would have taken all three rings. I guess he just thought Uriel would be the easiest to steal it from," Michael observed a bit snidely, glancing to Uriel.

"I know, it's my fault. I shall pass judgment on myself the moment we have Gabriel back. But how shall Michael and I get to Earth? It's no trouble for you, mighty death, but we don't have the freedom."

"We will ask Metatron," Azrael answered with a sigh. "Obviously."

"But that would mean informing him," Uriel observed a bit worriedly.

"Uriel, I am sure he already knows," Michael answered quickly, before Azrael could make a snide remark that would surely upset the nervous angel even more.

"You would be correct, Michael," a boychild's voice spoke up from behind them.

All three turned to face the figure of the young boy, and in unified alarm they cried out "Metatron!" as they dropped to one knee, their heads and eyes lowered. The boy wore graceful white robes, his bowl-cut blonde hair falling over his sky blue eyes and his hands held in almost a praying position in front of him.

"Uriel, you have caused a bit of a stir with your carelessness, it seems. You three are the only ones who shall know of this little mishap, is that understood? You will go to Earth now, and all of your duties shall be attended to while you are away."

Metatron waved his hand in an almost dismissive gesture, and suddenly the three angels found themselves collapsed on hard concrete in an alleyway, fully dressed but piled all on top of each other.

"Uriel, dear friend, I would appreciate it if you would remove yourself from my lap? Now!" Azrael ordered and tried to shove the two bodies off of him, not having very much luck.

"Uriel, move!" Michael shouted. "You're crushing something newly acquired!" he cried a bit squeakily.

Uriel blinked in confusion and surprise at his comrades and quickly stood, letting the other two get to their feet. He glanced down to himself and noted the attire that Metatron had provided for him. He wore simple straight leg blue jeans and a pale blue one-pocketed T-shirt, tucked into the aforementioned denim pants and secured with a black belt with a silver buckle. On his feet were regular sneakers, which looked a bit strange to the angel. His long, perfectly straight red hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, except for a few strands that had pulled loose in the fall and now hung casually over his shoulder. He assumed this was fairly normal dress for the times, and it seemed to suit him, so he didn't complain.

As he looked to his ethereal companions, he noticed Azrael first. His long silver hair had been left loose, his prominent bangs falling in front of the glowing green eyes. He wore grey pants that appeared to Uriel to be semi-dressy, a white button-up shirt that had been tucked in and tightened with the same style belt as Uriel's. The shirt was covered by a dress jacket the same color as the pants, and completing the ensemble was a pair of black dress shoes.

Michael, Uriel observed, was dressed more hilariously than either of them. He wore pants not unlike the material that made up Uriel's own, except that there was far more material than necessary, making the pants very baggy around Michael's legs. His shirt was ridiculously oversized, falling nearly to his knees, and what should be T-shirt sleeves draped over his arms to his elbows. A long, thin chain hung in a loop from his back pocket to one of his front belt loops, and only the toes of his filthy off-white sneakers could be seen from beneath his already ripped pants.

Azrael looked his companions over and laughed, placing a palm against his forehead. "Michael, friend, you look ridiculous!"

Michael looked down to himself, smiling as he tugged at his baggy pants. "I like it," he said happily, then looked back up to Azrael. "Besides, look at you!"

"What about me?" Azrael asked innocently, holding his lapels proudly. "I look good."

Uriel gasped. "Azrael, that's pride, stop it!"

Azrael waved his hand to dismiss the comment. "Uriel. That's not pride. It's stating the painfully obvious."

"So come on already, let's go find Gabriel so we can go home!" Michael interrupted. He looked to Uriel. "Can you use that ball of yours to see where he is?"

Uriel cupped his hands as before, and the silvery orb appeared. It shimmered softly for a moment before clearing. The three could see Gabriel, lying naked in bed, asleep next to the flame-haired girl they had seen him with earlier.

Azrael gasped at the sight. "Oh Gabriel, friend, say you didn't...Uriel, get closer, I want to see his fingernails! Now, hurry up!" He and Michael watched intently, as did Uriel, as the image drew close, focusing in on Gabriel's hand. All three let out a sigh of grand relief as they noted that it looked perfectly normal.

"Good, he didn't do it...if he had, his fingernails would be black. We can still bring him home safely," Michael confirmed with that look as though a great weight, suddenly placed on his shoulders, had just as suddenly been lifted.

"Yes, this is good," agreed Uriel, "but I can't find him with this. I can only watch him. He still could be anywhere."

"Well then, we'll just have to find him the old-fashioned way. Presumably Metatron would place us in the same area that Gabriel landed in, so it shouldn't be too hard," Azrael assured with a confident smirk. "At least this way we can keep an eye on him, and see if he does anything stupid."

"What's the point of that?" Michael asked. "We won't be able to stop him."

"Perhaps we should get a feel for the area," Uriel offered, "then if we see him somewhere we recognize, we'll be able to find him."

"Do you have any idea how long that will take?" Azrael objected.

"Well we're not getting anything done just by standing around and talking about how much we're not getting done," Michael stated matter-of-factly. "Gabriel will avoid us, of that we can be sure. He probably knows we're here by now, but maybe we can find the girl, and she'll take us to him."

"Good point," Azrael agreed, nodding. "Let's start looking."

With that, the three walked out of the alleyway and onto the busy sidewalk, where they were instantly surrounded by mortals, pressing and pushing them down the street so violently that they had soon lost sight of each other, though they tried to call out over the top of the seething mass of humanity around them.

Gabriel's eyes suddenly opened, and it didn't even take him half a moment to remember where he was and the situation he was in. "They're here," he said in a raspy whisper.

Atanya slowly blinked open her wide blue eyes. "Who is...?" she asked sleepily, snuggling close against the man who currently shared her bed.

"They're here...no, they can't, I'm not ready to leave yet!" He looked down to the woman in his arms, taking in every feature of her face. Her pale skin, the delicate and feminine mole below her right eye, the dimple in her chin when she smiled at hi, the constant crinkle in her forehead, just between her eyebrows. "Atanya, please listen. There are three men who will come to talk to you. One of them has silver hair, another brown, and the last red. Their names are Azrael, Michael, and Uriel, respectively. They will want to know where I am, so they can take me away. You MUSTN'T tell them where I am! Do you understand?"

Atanya blinked in confusion, but nodded. "Alright, Gabriel. I promise."

"I thank you," said Gabriel softly, with a quick press of his lips to hers that brought from her a pleasurable shiver.

Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and turned away from him to look at a small digital clock that sat on her bedside table, the softly glowing red numbers switching before Gabriel's eyes to read 7:38a.m. "Oh no, is it morning already?! I have to go, I'm going to be late for work!" She quickly pulled herself out of bed and pulled on some clothes, not so very different from the ones she had worn the previous night, only these were a deep blue. He watched in silence as she pulled on a coat and looked back to him, quickly taking a brush to her slightly tangled curls. "I should be back by 6:30. Anything you want should be here, there's a little money in the kitchen if you need anything else. You're welcome to stay as long as you want," she finished, blushing faintly as she dropped the hairbrush to the bed and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, secured by some kind of elastic device that Gabriel didn't recognize.

He nodded, and smiled to her just before she turned and quickly walked out of the room and the house. He got to his feet after a moment and looked to the pile of clothes. After carefully inspecting them and finding them to be tolerable, he put them on. The blue denim pants were fashionably tight against his legs and backside, the shirt was black and sleeveless. On his feet he pulled the back boots Atanya had provided, but had a bit of difficulty tying the laces quite correctly. When he figured it out, he pulled the pants cuffs over the top of the boots. He looked himself over in the full length mirror by the bed, noting that this was one of the few and far between times he had the chance to see his own reflection.

His slightly wavy black hair fell gracefully to his shoulders, not at all tangled or even mussed from the night's escapades. His pale blue eyes glowed a bit brighter than before, as though heightened by his experiences. It was true, he had never felt better than he did at this moment. He had accomplished the first two steps of his plan towards his salvation, his renewal. He had escaped the gates of heaven, he had bedded a woman yet retained his angel's purity.

Gabriel looked down to the ring on his hand, the silver twisted band with the blue smoky stone, reflecting it's soft light onto the palm of his right hand from the ring's position on the middle finger of his right hand. He looked up and cast one last look at his image in the mirror. Hmm. Not bad.

"Now, let's see...I'm sure they'll come looking for me. I can't let them find me, not yet. They'll take me back. I haven't seen nearly enough yet. I won't leave yet," he said to himself with a smile. "I'm having too much fun." He walked into the small kitchen and looked around for the money that Atanya had referred to. A large, white object with a door gave off a faint hum. Perhaps that is where she hid it. He walked over and opened the door, only to lean down and be hit in the face with a soft blow of cold air. What in the world? He reached his hand inside, feeling the cold steam as it ran between his fingers. He inspected the things inside. This is food, isn't it? This must be to keep it form spoiling. There would be no monetary units stored here. He closed the door and straightened, looking around the rest of the room.

A few more cabinets, which he quickly searched and found nothing, were around the room. However, he noted, the first was the only one that was cold. When he had searched every cabinet, every shelf, every counter, he had still found nothing. He was about to say forget the money, when he saw one thing he hadn't searched--a small clay jar marked in black ink with the word "Cookies." Cookies are food, there wouldn't be money in there. Hmm. He walked over and pulled off the clay lid, reaching inside and pulling out the contents. A few green slips of paper were what he found, five of them marked with the number one, two with the number five, and one with the number twenty. Thirty-five. That should be enough for at least one day.

He folded the bills and shoved them in his pocket, then walked out of the house and down the filthy, deserted street.