Chapter Text
At first there weren’t any cupids at all. Eventually there was Cupid, the god, but Heaven hadn’t paid much attention to that. There were a lot of gods. But then humans had started inventing something else.
Love hadn’t been like that in the beginning either; at least, romantic love hadn’t. There was affection and desire, but it hadn’t always been so devotional. It became all the rage, this idea of people being drawn together, not just because they were attracted to one another, or because they liked each other’s company, or any one thing alone, but because they were meant for each other, feeling a pull towards one another that was impossible to ignore, that bound them, that was the strongest force on Earth. Humans coined the term ‘soul-mates’. How could Heaven, whose duty it was to look after souls, ignore a thing like that?
It turned out pretty useful in some cases, too. It provided yet another form of organization that Heaven could use to keep these chaotic little bipeds under proper supervision. They paired themselves up quite nicely. Sometimes they took care of one another, which gave their guardian angels a welcome break. It helped with the whole propagation thing. It could also be useful when Heaven needed to enact its divine plan. If two particular humans needed to come together, if their brilliant minds needed to fuse as one, or if they were two great figures who needed to combine their powers to strengthen a kingdom, or if a certain child with certain traits needed to be born—here was the way.*
*If jealousy needed to be spread, or wars needed to be started, this was also a good solution. Heaven bragged less about these.
Humans, as always, had to put a face to their new invention. First, the Cupid of their past became multiples, the Amores, spreading desire and love. It was sometime around the fifteenth century that the putti came into it. Heaven wasn’t one to miss an opportunity. If the humans wanted specific heavenly agents to direct these romantic occurrences, they were happy to oblige.
There had always been angels whose duty it had been to oversee human relationships. Philantha had been a bit confused at the start of her transition.
“Why do I need the bow and arrows?” she’d asked her director. “They aren’t really necessary. I could just use a miracle to trigger their infatuation.”
“It’s symbolic,” he’d replied patiently. “And it’s not infatuation. It’s love.”
“But I don’t look anything like these pink little boys,” she’d said, making a face at the human art of the cupids he’d shown her for inspiration in her new role.
“Looks won’t really matter. They won’t see you most of the time. In the images they’ve created, you’re supposed to shoot them from afar while they, unawares, gaze upon their future love.”
“If looks don’t matter then why do I need the arrows?”
“Just try to give it a chance,” he’d sighed. “You never know. You may like it.”
Philantha gave it a chance. She did like it. She loved it.
She could never quite figure out what was going on in the humans’ little brains, or more appropriately, in their hearts. They transformed from friends or strangers or enemies into a bonded pair or group. The world became more magical whenever it happened. Reason flew out the window, and whatever it was replaced with, Philantha liked it. It made them do such funny things, yet they never were more earnest, never more than when they were in love. It was enchanting.
Then, when they got together—weddings! Big parties just to celebrate what she had done! Happily ever afters! Children and loving families. The beautiful things that could be created by minds who were fitted for each other. Philantha sometimes suspected the humans had been onto something. No one ever talked about where the cupids’ assignments actually came from—none of Philantha’s bosses seemed to know. They were all completely confidential, appearing in their inboxes as if by magic.*
*Which was a fairly common thing in Heaven, really, since everything was ineffable up there in the clouds.
And some of the people she brought together! Some of the families she helped make! It sometimes felt like she’d hardly been necessary at all, like all she’d done was provide the push. Some of those humans really seemed fated for each other.
Of course, there were some sadder stories. The arrows didn’t really guarantee a fairytale ending. All they did was make one person aware of all their feelings for another, or give them an extra dose of passion if they weren’t the type to fixate easily. That didn’t guarantee they would act on it, or act on it well. It certainly didn’t guarantee the objects of their fascination would feel the same.
Most of the time relationships of humans on Earth formed by themselves, and were more or less happy, even if it wasn’t quite forever. Most humans were actually drawn to one another by all the old things—attraction, affection, compassion, shared interests, a desire for similar futures. Cupids weren’t required for every single love, but they were there for most of the great love stories. The ones that needed a push or a shove. The couples who were hand-picked to be part of the great Ineffable Plan.
Sometimes they got some really weird ones. Sometimes the cupids would gather together for end-of-the-workweek drinks*
*Of holy water. This is Heaven, after all.
and they would laugh over the more unusual tasks they had been sent. Often, though, they kept quiet even about those. There was a sense of integrity within the cupid community and a shared feeling that love should be between the humans and their cupid. The secrecy of it, after all, was what made the plan so ineffable.
Which was why when Philantha got that one assignment, she didn’t immediately shout about it to the whole wide world.
It had been an ordinary week. She’d been a cupid for a few centuries now, and she was really enjoying herself. She felt fulfilled in her work. She grumbled with the other cupids about the drudgery of yet another workday when she arrived at the office, as always, but it was only out of coworker solidarity. She whistled to herself as she walked to her inbox and took out her assignment for the day.
She glanced at it.
She glanced at it again.
She squinted at it.
“What the frog?”*
*This was a very strong curse in Heaven, as frogs were used for plagues and such. And also because the vast majority of curses were strictly not allowed.
Philantha crumbled up the paper and turned around, looking back and forth for any other cupids. There were none there.
“What the FROG?” she said again.
This was new. She wasn’t even sure if she should do it. Then again, you couldn’t question the Ineffable Plan. Everyone had their part to play, even cupids. Even with extraordinary assignments like this.
She’d had humans fall for demons before. She hated to do it, but she understood that it was part of the balance, the inevitable path of the tempters and the fallen. She still hated to do it. But this time she was supposed to shoot the opposite direction. And the person on the other side of the equation wasn’t a human. It was an angel.
A demon and an angel. If Philantha had read her task too quickly, she would have smote the demon on the spot. Luckily, she was too conscientious in her work to be so sloppy. She uncrumpled the paper and read it again. She’d thought so: it wasn’t that simple. He hadn’t done the tempting this time. It was the other way around.
The demon was the one she was supposed to shoot.
She put a hand to her brow and tilted her head back, suddenly feeling wearied of her job. “Now this is a strange one,” she said. Yet somehow, she felt instantly secretive about it. There had never been an assignment she’d wanted to share with the others more, to get their opinion on it and to ask them what she should do, yet she was almost too afraid to let anyone else know. Should she tell them? After all, it was a demon, and an angel. That couldn’t be right. Maybe something had gone wrong, and she should report this danger to one of her brothers in arms. Then again, maybe that would be seen as doubting the Ineffable Plan. The assignment came from the same place as all the others. She had to do her duty without question.
Beneath it all was a curiosity that burned and boiled stronger and stronger with every passing moment.
So she decided to at least check it out. She would see what this demon and angel were like, and then she would decide whether or not to tell anyone else in Heaven about what was happening.
Philantha landed on Earth and parked her dolphin* somewhere where she wouldn’t be spotted.
*She had been thrilled when the humans had started imagining cupids riding dolphins. Like, so psyched. You have no idea.
The angel and demon were in a building nearby. It looked small enough that they were probably the only ones inside; this was good. She didn’t want any humans to be nearby when or if she let her arrows fly, just in case something dangerous happened when or if it hit—well, the demon. She crept towards the building and tiptoed around it until she found a window she could spy through.
Cupids, of course, could hide perfectly well from humans. Love wasn’t ‘blind’ so much as it was a sneaking, surprising, invisible creature that could creep up on you without you ever suspecting a thing. Philantha was a large woman with a great amount of curly dark hair, but she could still hide behind the thinnest of lamp posts without being seen—by humans, anyway. These weren’t humans, though. She patted the top of her head to keep her hair down as she crouched to avoid being seen by the two beings she was watching through the window.
She could sense that they were inside, but she was almost afraid to look. To be honest, she had no idea what to expect. Was she about to witness a horribly bloody battle? Were the angel and demon in the middle of a fight, during which, after a fateful twang of her bowstring, the demon would all of a sudden find itself unable to retaliate? What would happen next? Would the angel attack him anyway, striking him down, ignorant of the miraculous change of heart? Would he even have a heart? Did cupid arrows work on demons, anyway? She didn’t know if anyone had ever tried it. It was probably one of those things that a cupid would keep to themselves if they did, just like she was keeping this one a secret now.
There was that curiosity again, leaving her dying to see.
Hand firmly over her hair, she peeked her head up, just enough so that she could see inside the building.
There were two men. They were—talking.
Philantha could instantly tell which was which, of course. They had an aura, plus no angel would ever wear that much black, or dress like that in general. Dealing with human lovelifes meant that Philantha always had to keep up with things like fashion and the messages that certain clothing choices were meant to convey. No angel would try to convey the message the overly-well-dressed demon was exhibiting with his better-than-you clothes that were far more flattering than necessary for any sort of heavenly work. Then again, not many angels would have dressed like this one, either. Aziraphale, his name was. Philantha knew he had been on Earth for some time. This was why he was wearing more than the ethereal outfits angels wore when they meant to impress humans by making their heavenly origin obvious. He was also about fifty years out of style. The demon probably wasn’t going to be swept off his feet by his flashy looks, then.
They seemed to be arguing, but not like any angel and demon before. The demon—Crowley was his name, she knew from her job description—was gesturing emphatically, while the angel sat back with a disapproving expression. He crossed his arms and started a long-winded reply, and the demon let him. He even seemed to be considering what he was saying—seriously. Then he said something in return, and the angel actually looked thoughtful. Then the demon lowered his head. Philantha peered even further, daring to raise her head more, which seemed safe enough, because the attention of each of them was fixed firmly on the other. The demon was saying something with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. The angel’s mouth twitched. His eyes were smiling.
At this, the demon grinned, and if he thought he was being sly or subtle about how delighted he was, he was a poor excuse for sneaky, indeed.
“Crowley,” Philantha said, softly, under her breath, trying it out. He was laughing now, and the angel, though not quite laughing with him, didn’t seem bothered. The demon, his face and posture all carefully placed angles, made to look just sharp enough to give everything he said an edge, managed to look almost confident, manipulative, smug, except for his constantly tapping foot. He listened intently as the angel said something. The angel looked completely at ease.
That must be a good sign. Unless this Aziraphale was a complete idiot, the demon didn’t seem to be much of a threat to him. Crowley. So maybe Philantha wouldn’t be putting him in the path of a dangerous being if she did do what her job had said to do. She had unconsciously reached to her side and grabbed her bow without her noticing, while her eyes were fixed on the demon’s nervously tapping foot. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, too, and, betraying him, was inching farther across the table, closer to where the angel was resting his elbow.
So maybe it wouldn’t be quite the surprise blow she had imagined, then.
Technically, all a cupid had to do was shoot the arrow. The ways and means, the reasons for the falling part, happened on their own. It depended on the circumstances, though, and not only did Philantha like to stick around and see how things played out, she also liked to give her humans a helping hand. Some people get shot in the heart when they’re having a terrible day. Some get shot right when they realize that they could never be together. Some fall when they’ve just made a fool of themselves and are convinced no one could ever love them after witnessing such a thing. Some get shot while they’re carrying something heavy and precarious, and that was just plain unsafe. Mostly, Philantha liked to ease them into the situation as gently as possible. During a nice moment—a dance, a fateful glance from across the street or room, during a gentle pause in the conversation—these were all the best moments for the realization to be made. Well, the angel and demon had stopped talking. Aziraphale was taking a sip of his drink. Crowley was just sitting there. He was a demon, presumably up to no good most of the time, and this seemed like a rare peaceful scene. There could be no better moment.
Should she really do it?
Philantha ran her fingers along the string of her bow. The other hand fiddled with the heart-shaped head of an arrow. When had that gotten there? She must have taken it out of her quiver without realizing what she was doing. She glanced at it only for a second before looking back at the two inside. Aziraphale was prattling on about something or other. Crowley listened, not interrupting, not ignoring a single word.
It was her job. She loved to do it. She raised her bow and arrow, pulling back on the string, aiming for the demon’s heart. For Crowley’s heart. Her lip curved as she watched the two of them, wondering at how they had gotten here, at how they had come so far, and what would happen and where they would go once she let go of the string. She let go.
As soon as she did, her eyes widened in terror at the possible implications of what she had just done, and dread filled her stomach at the sound of the arrow whizzing through the air.
But as soon as she fired it, the demon laughed at something the angel had said. He stopped when the arrow hit his heart. His own eyes stayed wide for a moment, his laugh dying on his face, while the angel talked on, oblivious to the joy in the laugh a moment before and the sudden silence now. Crowley stared at him, and Philantha stared at the demon as the arrow stuck and then faded, as cupid arrows always do, from visible symbolism to invisible truth.
And Crowley—
Crowley softened. His foot stopped tapping and his shoulders relaxed. He sank into it, this thing that was making his face like that, his cheeks a little pinker than they had been. He tilted his head to one side and rested his cheek in his hand and smiled, gently, at Aziraphale.
And Philantha said, under her breath, “Oh, hoo boy.”
She backed up from the window and straightened up, knowing that she would not be seen.
“Okay. All right. That’s some love there if I’ve ever seen it.”
And, eyes still a little wide, but confident that her decision would not be back to bite her in the butt too badly, although she wasn’t sure she could say the same for Crowley,* she hurried back to her dolphin and rode it away, her day’s work finished.
*Poor boy. She would definitely be keeping an eye on him. Did she just have sympathy for a demon?
Well. Might as well get used to it.