It was near morning. Michael had been up early. With all that had happened, sleep did not come easy lately. And when it came, it was a restless sleep, full of visions of what the future could hold. But all ended the same; his own hands dripping with the blood of angels. It disturbed him that this was what fate had in store.
Every time Michael woke, he was sweating with anxiety. He feared he could not stop what his visions had foretold. Perhaps he was not meant to stop it. Normally, he would entrust Gabriël with these visions. As the Messenger, he often had a better interpretation of His Word. But Gabriël had enough on his mind right now. He did not need to know about this.

Michael had sent a grumbling Raphael to check on Gabriël the previous day. He'd mumbled something like having other things to do and that Joan would probably alarm the whole Vale if anything happened, but it was precisely because of Joan's presence that Michael had wanted Raphael to check on them. He had to be sure his suspicions were unjustified. And from what the physician had told him in his note, they appeared to be so - Gabriël had been asleep whilst Joan had been reading in the kitchen.
Raphael had urged Michael to trust them. Everyone knew the consequences of what happened to those who would be revealed to be lovers. Gabriël, most of all, since he was an Archangel; they were bound by oath to uphold all rules God gave them. Because of that oath, there was no precedence of an Archangel breaking these rules. At least, not since...
Because of him, God had created the oath in the first place; to ensure none would fall again. Michael could not help but think if something could have been done to prevent what had happened so long ago. He still blamed himself for that.

The Lord Protector strapped on the last of his gear and left for the training room. Perhaps if he tired himself, he could finally get some sleep. As he walked to the Villa's lower levels, the skies were coloured in warm shades of orange, yellow and red. A promise for a beautiful day.
He paused at the base of the stairs. A light shone from the opened door. Someone else was already there. He was more than surprised to find Gabriël practising his archery in the lanes at the far end of the room. There was something about him that struck Michael as odd, apart from the fact that he was bare-chested and barefoot.
He made no sound as he came into the room. He observed his friend nock an arrow and stand as still as one of Michelangelo's statues. With a whooshing sound, the arrow flew straight into the centre of the target. Michael had never seen Gabriël aim with such accuracy. He looked closer to see three other arrows already stuck to the mark. With every shot, the arrow had neared the centre. All four were now perfectly aligned with each other.
Gabriël noticed his presence in the room and spoke, keeping his focus on the target.

"Hello, Michael. Up early as well, I see."

Michael walked over to the second archery lane. As he stood next to Gabriël, he noticed some definite changes in him - physical changes. Gabriël seemed more muscular. His outspoken cheekbones made his face look even more angelic, though somehow, a shadow was cast across. 

"Yes, I could not sleep." Michael eyed Gabriël from head to toe, wondering if he had always been this tall. "And you? It is not like you to come training on your own. Nor do I expect you to do so when you should be recuperating."

"I know. But I was... tense. So I thought coming here would help wind down a bit."

Michael nodded in understanding. He came here for the same reason, after all.

"I am glad you are here," Gabriël continued. "I have been meaning to speak with you."

"What about?" asked Michael as he reached for his own bow and quiver

"Joan told me what happened. When I had that last seizure."

Michael froze in his stance. He pinched his lips and then released the arrow. It veered off course, striking the edge of the target's bull's eye.

"What exactly did she say?" He kept his gaze on his arrow, feeling his anger rise. 

"Everything. That you got to me before she did. That you gave me your own blood to heal me. And that, when it seemed nothing worked, and I died, you reverted to a state of shock. She had to convince you I was still alive."

They both stood silent. Then Michael threw his bow against the wall behind Gabriël with such force that it splintered in half. The other Archangel never even flinched.

"Damn that girl!" 

"Am I to assume by your reaction that every word she said is true? Why Michael, I never knew you cared so much about me." Gabriël chuckled. 

"Of course I care!" Michael snapped back and averted from him. "How could you think otherwise? I am the Lord Protector. I care for all under my charge."

"No, Michael. You care."

Gabriël somehow appeared before him in the blink of an eye. Michael stood mesmerised as Gabriël raised his chin.

"Once upon a time," he said, "before these rules, before our oath, you cared for someone. Dare I say it, you loved someone. And if memory serves, that person loved you back. But then, things happened, and you lost each other."

"Why are you talking about that?" Michael asked softly. "You know I would rather forget about what occurred. We are forbidden to even speak of that time."

"Yes, I'm aware. But be honest, Michael, do you not long to have that again?"

Before he could react, Michael felt Gabriël's lips against his own. He stiffened, unsure if this was a dream or reality. Gabriël's hand moved from his chin to the nape of his neck, and he pushed Michael closer against him. Every single fibre of Michael's being urged him to tear himself away from Gabriël, but his heart overtook his senses. Did Gabriël know? Was he truly...?
Suddenly, Michael sensed a presence – a dark entity revelling in the way he surrendered to Gabriël's kiss. What was he doing? What was he thinking? This had to stop.
Mustering every ounce of will, Michael shoved Gabriël back against the wall and pinned him in place by his arms. He was shocked to find Gabriël grinning wickedly, his eyes black as coals.
All of a sudden, someone grabbed Michael by his shoulders and threw him hard against the floor. He rolled over and got up on one knee, ready to strike at the one who had attacked him. Yet he paused when he recognised the slender figure, dressed in grey training gear, standing between him and Gabriël - Joan.

***

She had let it go too far. But who would have guessed that would happen? Joan sprang into action when she saw the Archangels kiss, arriving just in time to prevent Michael from hurting his best friend. He glared at her as he rose to his feet.

"Joan, move away," he ordered. "This does not concern you."

"Actually, it does," she said. "You asked me to keep Gabriël safe, and that's what I'm doing, Michael."

"I am warning you, girl. Stand aside now."

"No!"

Before Michael and Joan could come to blows, they were both startled by Gabriël's voice.

"Would someone care to explain what is happening here?"

He looked from Joan to Michael and back, a confused expression on his face. Joan halted Michael when he stepped forward by raising her hand. She looked at Gabriël, focusing on his eyes - blue. Her anxious expression made him realise something was wrong.

"Did it happen again?" he asked.

"Yes," Joan replied with a sigh.

Gabriël slumped against the wall in dismay. He hung his head. If not for Michael being in the room with them, Joan would have rushed over to hold him in her arms, but she couldn't. Instead, she beckoned Michael to follow her outside Gabriël's hearing. 

"Before you say anything, Michael, no, I didn't hear what he said to you or you to him, and I really couldn't care less," said Joan quickly. "I fear we may have a problem with Gabriel."

"Clearly. This has happened before? With you?"

"Well... um..." She hesitated.

"Joan, please tell me."

"All right. Just keep in mind, it's not really Gabriël."

Joan only told Michael what he really needed to know. That she had been in Gabriël's cottage the day before, and Raphael had come by (Michael confirmed it was on his request). That Gabriël had woken up after the physician left and had tried to force himself on her while they'd been talking. Recalling that moment made Joan's voice quiver as she attempted to hold her composure. Michael's face was as white as a sheet by the time she finished.

"Dear God... Joan, why did you not come to me?" he asked.

"I suppose I was... afraid of what you would do to him. Or to me, for that matter. You've already asked me if we were together, so I feared you wouldn't believe me and think I was falsely incriminating him to save myself."

Joan hated herself as she said those words. But right now, it was all she could say to explain Gabriël's actions and keep their relationship hidden. Fortunately, it worked. 

"Forgive me, Joan." Michael took her by the hand. "I realise I am strict with you, but I never want you to think you cannot confide in me when you are troubled. Especially not with something like this. It is my duty and responsibility to care for you, and no matter what our own discord is, I will not forsake you if you need my help."

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. This was the first time she had seen Michael so concerned for her. 

"Thank you," she said. "That... That means a lot."

Was that a smile she saw on his lips? So weird.

"What of Gabriël?" Joan asked then. "I believe it would be better to keep this between us."

"Indeed," Michael agreed. "But I have to inform Raphael about his behaviour. I noticed his eyes were completely black a moment ago, too. Have you noticed anything else that could warn us? "

"Not before it happens, no. Gabriël doesn't seem to know what he says or does when that thing takes over, though. He's so confused when he's himself again. Like whoever or whatever possesses him makes him forget everything. I know the current theory is that it was Borgia's blood used in the poison, but I'm not so sure. Surely someone like him wouldn't be this powerful."

"I fear you may be right. The way he spoke to me just now reminded me of..."

Michael furrowed his brow as he fell silent. He seemed lost in a memory. An unpleasant memory.

"Michael?" Joan pinched his hand. "Are you all right? Who are you thinking of?"

"No one." He let her go. "He was before your time. Can you take Gabriël home? Unless you would prefer another to do so?"

"No, I can do it." Joan looked over at Gabriël. "What do I tell him? If he asks me what he did?"

"Tell him..." Michael paused for a moment. "Just tell him the truth. It is better if we keep nothing from him."

They returned to him. Joan knelt and put a tentative hand on his knee to get his attention. She felt Michael tense behind her as Gabriël raised his head. To both their relief, his eyes were blue. He stood up, unable to look at either of them directly. Joan took him by the arm and led him past Michael. He halted her then.

"Michael, I don't -"

"Do not concern yourself about it," Michael interrupted him. "Go home. We will sort this out."

Joan nudged Gabriël, and they left Michael alone in the training room. She was shaken up by what she had witnessed. She prayed to God that, at least in this, Michael would be her ally.

***

Grigori had observed his Master with growing concern. He had become a complete recluse and did not permit anyone to enter his private chambers except for the Borgia Bastard and Grigori himself. The Master was certain that Joan and Gabriël would be sent to Earth soon. And when that happened, Borgia would strike.
But it was not the Master requesting complete privacy that had Grigori worried. The monk had been present in the chambers, serving the Master's dinner, when he heard him whisper something like, "It is done". He was then sent to Borgia to inform him that Gabriël and Joan had slept together. Grigori had hesitated, making the mistake of not believing his Master's words.
But the Master had not punished him for it. Simply nodded and reassured him of this act. Upon Grigori's return, he had found his Master seated in his chair, dressed in his black robes. His eyes had gone white. Not thinking it wise to disturb him, Grigori had simply waited in a quiet corner until he heard the Master speak.

"Joan still has a powerful grip on Gabriël. I will need to break them both. And Michael will be my pawn in doing so."

Whenever his Master mentioned Michael, there was a hint of sadness in his voice. Grigori was sure he alone perceived it. He often wondered if anything had happened between them, but knew better than to inquire.
Grigori held back patiently as he observed his Master once more. Hours passed before the dark figure on the throne moved. He reached out his hand as if to take something. Or someone. Grigori saw his Master mouth a word – no, a name; Michael. And he was... weeping? What was happening? The man he saw before him was not the strong, awe-inspiring lord he knew so well.

"Grigori," the Master said. "You may leave me."

"Yes, Master." Grigori bowed. "Is there something... I can do for you?"

"No, I will not require your services any further today. Go."

Unlocking the door, Grigori glanced behind him. His Master rose from the chair and stepped towards his nightstand. He unlocked the first drawer and took out what appeared to be a cuff or bracelet of some sort. Grigori felt a sudden unease wash over him and retreated into the darkness of the palace.