After Gabriel's failed construction, the archangel was nearly useless. It was his first experience with a migraine, and in the middle of a desolate landscape, with heat beating down on them, it was just about the worst place to have it. He had managed to keep his stomach down by sheer will and knowledge that humans were made of water and he could not afford to throw that up right now.

But he really wished he could go back to that night when he just had a hangover.

So he sat up against a rock, his jacket padded behind him to absorb the heat. He had a towel over his face, damp because he'd spared some precious water for it, but kept his head down, against his knees, and focused on his breathing.

Amazing, how interesting the simple act of breathing could be.