Chapter Text
Aziraphale was never one of the builders. It had not been Her intent, though in retrospect, it’s not like She had ever said as such in so many words. At first, Aziraphale had not existed, and then he had, and the next thing he knew he had a flashy sword all full of fire and was stationed atop a craggy rock as the sea was cleft from the land. Guarding the other angels, apparently, though it felt more like spectating than anything else. There wasn’t anything to guard from in those days, and the division was quite an exciting event. He still remembers the funny little slip that resulted in the Mariana Trench.
The sword wasn’t necessary yet, he would come to understand, and by the time it became necessary he had gone and given it away to the poor humans, so it was all a moot point.
(And years upon years later, after watching War herself draw his sword against a child, he would wonder if perhaps Crowley hadn’t been incorrect. Had he done the wrong thing after all? Because some days it feels like it’s all too easy to do wrong, and all too easy for Crowley to do right.)
But before the humans, before the Fall, before everything that would come to shape Earth into the wonderful, peculiar planet that he grew to love, there was the Fourth Day.
The Third Day had been Aziraphale’s first, and after the long separation came the flowers and seeds, the blooming and the blossoming. He liked that part of it: watching the other angels help bring spry green things into existence. It was a lot less shaky than the part that came before, and he was quite impressed with the results.
So the Third Day was well and good, but the Fourth Day? Now, that was truly something else.
The sun was the greatest undertaking, seeing as it had to sustain whatever was to populate the planet, so there was a whole team toiling away on it, making sure all the metrics and measurements were correct. Aziraphale found the project entertaining enough, but no one ever really had the time to talk about it, so before long his interest was diverted toward the billions of stars that began blinking into existence across the black tapestry of space.
Glowing red stars and sugar-spun nebulae, ice-tailed comets and moons and lonely planets in the far flung corners of the universe. There was plenty of time to stargaze during guard duty, so Aziraphale would take his post and then stare up into the cosmos, watching hydrogen and helium weave together into great symphonies of light.
One of these nights — and there were nights now, since the sun had been a smashing success — he was looking up at the sky again, searching out one of his favorite galaxies to watch, when he noticed he had acquired a companion. Usually the other angels gathered elsewhere once their work was done, so it was a pleasant surprise to find someone else had stuck around. People didn’t have a tendency to stay when Aziraphale was involved.
Sitting in the sands below was an angel staring up at a nebula, legs folded up beneath him and his golden eyes caught on a luminous star cluster in the middle. Aziraphale would have liked to approach, but it felt inappropriate, interrupting the other angel’s contemplation, or appreciation, or whatever he was doing down there with his feet buried in the sand and his black wings tucked in neatly.
It was his feathers that drew Aziraphale’s attention first. This, he would remember even after the Fall, when a snake came slithering over and sparked up a conversation, the same way he was about to in approximately twenty-eight seconds — the same way he would do so over and over again through the passing years.
So though it would come to be Crowley’s voice that always pulled Aziraphale back into the present, that spoke to the very core of his being each and every time, it was first those lovely wings that caught his eye. Pitch-black and beautiful, not a single mottled gray or frivolous white to mar his plumage. Aziraphale’s were plain white, and he felt an odd frisson of...not envy, of course not, for that would hardly be angelic, but admiration, perhaps.
“That’s quite a sword you’ve got,” the angel called over, interrupting Aziraphale’s embarrassing line of thought. He was awfully far for holding polite conversation, so Aziraphale had no choice but to move closer. Not too far from his station, but close enough to speak comfortably.
“Yes, I find it, er- useful.” He didn’t actually have much reason to use it yet, but it had a lot of potential, and that was what mattered. “Sometimes one finds oneself in need of a fire, and well! Here I am with a whole swordful of it.”
A flicker of amusement passed across the angel’s face, which was an expression Aziraphale wasn’t used to seeing. He slowly unfolded himself from the ground and wandered over so that they were but a few feet apart. “I’ll keep it in mind. Very multipurpose, that. So, the stars, eh? Did you see what they were doing with Alpha Centauri earlier? I thought the planet was a nice touch.”
Ah, a fellow patron of the celestial arts! “Oh, I agree! Making the small one a flare star was my favorite part, personally. And a three star system! How fun.”
“It’s quite innovative. I’m almost sorry we didn’t try it out over here. Could you imagine three suns bouncing about? It would be chaotically inconvenient.” Chaos sounded rather stressful to Aziraphale, but the way the other angel shook his head while laughing made it seem a little less bad.
“I think I’m glad we stuck to just the one.” From this close, Aziraphale could more clearly see his features: the line of his nose, the golden cast to his eyes, the shine of his sleek midnight feathers. This was altogether too much admiration now, so he cast about looking for something to say in order to distract himself. “What is it you were looking at just now?”
“That one? The Almighty says we’ll be calling it Eta Carinae eventually. Or, that’s what Metatron said She said. The Carina Nebula is the biggish bit surrounding it.” He raised one lanky arm to point at the billowing clouds of dust spreading like rose petals around the scattering of stars. “And there’s HD 93129 — another triple for you.”
“Bit of a mouthful, but the craftsmanship is impeccable,” Aziraphale said, trying to sound worldly and knowledgeable about these sorts of things. He didn’t build, but he did have eyes, or some incorporeal structure that functioned as eyes, and he thought of himself as a kind of budding connoisseur of the finer works of creation. “Very lovely.”
“It- it is rather lovely, isn’t it?” the other angel said, looking back up at Eta Carinae while wearing the start of a smile. “Is it immodest to say that?”
“Immodest? Were you involved in the project?” He suspected that his voice was a touch too excited.
“I, well, yes. I helped make that one. And a few others. I could- mrph. I could point them out to you, if you’d like. In your free time.” The angel shuffled awkwardly in place, legs and hips moving in a swaying manner that Aziraphale had never noticed from anyone else.
He wanted to accept the offer right away, but the weight of his sword in his hand was enough of a reminder that it would probably be rather frowned upon if he were to abandon his post. Deflated, he shook his head.
“Oh. That’s very kind of you, but I’m- I’m supposed to be standing guard, you see-”
“Right, of course! Of course, you’ve got the sword and everything. I should’ve known; that was thick of me, sorry. It’s just- not a lot of others tend to stay down here. Back up to Heaven they go,” he said with a droll little twirl of his wrist, pointing back home.
“You don’t like it in Heaven?” Aziraphale didn’t think he had much of an opinion of it yet, seeing as he spent most of his time on Earth, but he’d never heard anyone speak about it with that tone of voice before.
The angel shrugged. “Well, it’s a bit empty up there, isn’t it? Not of company, but character, don’t you think? Very sterile. A little stuffy. Maybe She’ll have us primp it up once the rest of the work is done, but it isn’t half as interesting as it is down here. I mean, look!” He pointed toward the garden in the distance, his eyes lit with excitement. “We have plants now!”
“Yes, I do think the green initiative has been very rewarding,” Aziraphale agreed, starting to smile himself. No one ever seemed particularly enthusiastic about the job until now. He thought that they were kindred spirits, he and this angel. “Are any of them yours?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple dozen to my name,” he replied proudly. “Have you seen bamboo yet?” When Aziraphale shook his head, the light in him seemed to dim just slightly. “Ah, it’s a pity you’ve got work.”
“Perhaps another time,” Aziraphale offered before the chance could be lost. “I hear they’re starting on another galaxy tomorrow. I don’t know if you’re involved, but I’m certain I’ll be somewhere around here; you could come by and chat in between stars. I’ll be the one with the- well, you know.” He waved his sword in the air sheepishly.
“You are difficult to miss.” They smiled at one another briefly before the other angel gestured upward again, looking a little exasperated. “Speaking of, I better get back upstairs. They’re probably giving out assignments right about now. I wouldn’t want to miss out on a good one.”
“Don’t let me keep you,” Aziraphale said, bowing slightly and feeling a bit stupid about it. The angel gave him a casual salute in response, and it made his own odd goodbye seem less strange. There was something about this angel that made Aziraphale feel less alone. That made him feel understood. Known.
The other angel shook the sand from his feet before nodding at Aziraphale, as if to acknowledge him. “I’ll be seeing you around.” And he took off, slipping between the barrier that separated the firmament from above.
Some hours after he’d gone and Aziraphale was watching his third ever sunrise, a startling thought occurred to him.
Aziraphale never thought to ask his name.
--
They did not meet again until three days later (though it was still the Fourth Day), when Andromeda was being churned into existence. Aziraphale was patrolling outside the garden, on the lookout for pesky sandstorms, when a familiar form strolled on up holding a round, needly thing.
“Have you got time to discuss the succulent problem?” he called as he walked up the dune. Another angel on a faraway ridge raised her eyebrows as he passed by, but returned to surveying space for the right place to throw in another asterism.
“Erm, I think so?” Aziraphale called back.
“Good, it’s a tricky one,” the angel said loudly as he marched toward Aziraphale. He seemed to be putting on a show for an unknown audience. “Very urgent.”
“I can tell. It looks absolutely dire!” Aziraphale yelled, because if his friend was trying to hide something from prying eyes, the least he could do was to play along.
“The direst,” his angel agreed as he finally reached him. “Sorry about all the theatrics,” he said quietly, putting his funny little plant on the ground. “I’m off duty now, but I didn’t want anyone to think you were taking things too easy up here. If they ask, we’re talking shop.”
“Well, we are, aren’t we? You were going to tell me about your recent projects.”
“Excellent point. Have you seen a cactus yet?”
Aziraphale had seen a few tall ones, but nothing like this rotund fellow with pink flowers dotting its crown. “Why, it’s perfect. So spherical!”
“Perfect is a strong word,” the angel deflected, but he looked hesitantly pleased. “Would you like to- there’s a new event going on later- I played a small part in it, and I thought-”
“I’d love to see it,” Aziraphale interrupted, smiling when Carina looked relieved at his answer.
They’d never exchanged names at their first meeting, and it was too awkward to ask for one now, so Aziraphale didn’t. In the privacy of his own mind, he’d taken to calling the other angel Carina after his nebula.
“It’s already happening, but you won’t be able to catch it from your outpost until the sun goes. I’ll point it out to you then.”
“Thank you, I’d like that. Did you bring any other plants?” He craned his neck to see if Carina had any tiny buds hidden in his robe.
“Not as such, but it’s been looking rather bare here.” Carina looked around furtively, and then stuck his hand in the sand next to his cactus and raised up a bunch of flat green leaves lined with yellow. “This one’s Sansevieria trifasciata.”
With a careful hand, Aziraphale touched one stiff leaf, enjoying the handiwork of the fibers beneath. “The variegation is very nice! You did a wonderful job with this one, my dear.” The affectionate pet name slipped out without warning, but Carina just tousled his feathers shyly and sprouted another bizarre plant next to the first two.
“Trachyandra tortilis,” he said of the thin, ruffled thing. Its appearance startled a laugh out of Aziraphale, who had grown too used to the roses and deciduous trees of the garden.
“What is this? It’s- I can’t even describe it. It’s positively delightful.” He crouched down to poke at one wriggling leaf.
“Thought you might enjoy it.”
As they waited for the sun to set, Carina grew a dozen other plants, right next to Aziraphale’s outpost. Aziraphale was so entertained by the whole thing that he’d forgotten about what Carina wanted to show him, until he felt the other angel tugging at his robe.
“Look up.”
Aziraphale did so, right at the spot Carina was pointing toward, where a star suddenly seemed to streak across the sky.
“Did that star just fall out of the sky?” he asked incredulously, spinning round to face Carina, who was smiling almost smugly back.
“Look closer this time.” Another handful of white stars shot past.
Upon further inspection, Aziraphale saw that what he thought were stars were really burning rocks, lighting the air as they tore through the firmament. He stood there, transfixed, as more and more glittering lights flew by.
“We’re calling them meteors. I can’t take much credit for this one, but I thought you might want to see it.”
“You were completely right.” Aziraphale stopped watching the sky for long enough to see if there was anyone else around, but they were alone again as far as he could see. So he lowered himself until he was sitting on the sand, and then concentrated on pulling his wings in until he felt them fold up out of sight.
He could see the surprise in Carina’s eyes, but he soon followed suit after he saw Aziraphale lie down flat and wave at him. His nose scrunched in confusion as he twisted to watch his wings fold away, and then he sat down in a daze.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” he said wondrously, turning around again to now look at his bare back.
“I only discovered it a day ago. It makes lying down a lot more comfortable.” Carina took his word for it and lay himself flat as well so they could watch the meteors burning up in the sky.
Carina asked after his day, so Aziraphale told him about the fissure that opened up in the earth that needed to be patched up, and the argument he overheard between several project leads about where to put Andromeda. Carina laughed even when Aziraphale’s comments were only mildly amusing, and he hummed thoughtfully at the right places.
They spent hours watching the sky, talking about anything and nothing at all, until the glow of the sun kissed the edge of the sky, and Carina had to depart before long.
“Keep the plants,” he said as he sat up. “There’s never anything here but you; it could do with a touch of green.”
“Thank you. I wish- I’m sorry that I have nothing to give you in return,” Aziraphale said, twisting his hands nervously.
Carina tilted his head, observing him for a moment before smiling. “If I were expecting something back, it wouldn’t be a gift, would it? Besides, there’s nothing I want from you besides your company. You- ghh, how do I say this.” He lifted his hands and twirled them around, as if to try to capture the words he was struggling to find. “I think- I’m sure, actually, that you might be my first friend.” His hands dropped back into his lap abruptly.
Aziraphale sucked in a breath, unable to do anything but blink foolishly back at him. “You most certainly are mine,” he croaked, overwhelmed by the affection he was suddenly aware of in his chest. “You’re the most interesting part of my day.”
“You see something new and exciting every other second, you over-sentimental angel,” Carina said softly as he shook his wings back out. Perhaps it was true, but it wouldn’t stop Aziraphale from saying this next, while his defenses were still down.
“And still none are so exciting as you. Good morning, my friend,” he said as the sun’s rays broke past the horizon. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
--
On the Fifth Day, Aziraphale saw a bird for the first time. A dove, to be precise, and there was something heartwarming about seeing another creature in flight. Plain and white-feathered like himself, too. He was near enough to the sea today to see the teeming swarms of fish and reefs and whales being brought to life, and he kept an eye out for Carina among the angels standing on the ocean and knitting bones and flesh together under the water.
Carina swung by several times over the next few days. He was quite involved with some of the deep sea creatures — “You wouldn’t believe the teeth on this one! Like a maw full of knives.” — and had been called away to do some bird work as well. “I’ll tell you all about it once they stop running me ragged,” he said as he hotfooted it off to another corner of the globe.
“Don’t forget to preen your feathers,” Aziraphale called after him, for he was beginning to look a little wild-eyed and rumpled.
“Right, will do,” Carina shouted back, already hop-stumbling down the sand dune.
Once some of the fervor died down, Aziraphale saw him again one evening. He had a black bird on his head and seemed to be talking to it as he approached.
“What have you got there?” Aziraphale asked, grinning when the bird pecked at Carina’s fingertips as he tried to get it to walk into his hand.
“This tetchy thing is a crow,” he responded, scowling when the crow hopped backwards a step to nestle in his hair instead of onto his hand.
“You match!” The crow was as black as Carina’s own wings, and probably too clever for its own good.
“That was the intent, and also clearly a mistake. Come here, you little-”
The crow decided to the exact opposite and took off, flying away out of sight.
“You’ve gone and made something of a rascal, haven’t you?” Aziraphale said fondly, and Carina pulled a face at him before seeming to remember something.
“Um, I’ve got some news.”
Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat at Carina’s serious tone, and he asked, his throat dry, “Is it- not bad news, I hope?”
“Oh, no. It’s really more surprising than anything. Uh. God called me to Her today. After I was done making that ornery thing,” he said, waving in the direction the crow had flown off to.
“She spoke to you?” Aziraphale demanded, his eyebrows rising up into his hairline. “For what?”
“Just- just to talk, apparently. I’d had the bird with me at the time, and She asked to see it, so I handed it over, of course.
“She named it a crow, and I said ‘that’s a nice name,’ because what else do you say to God? I mean, we’ve never spoken before, not even after the asteroid belt, which I thought was a pretty neat accomplishment, and would’ve been the time, if ever, to do a little conversing- anyway, that piece of drivel left my mouth, and She said- do you know what She said? She said, ‘I thought you might like it,’ and then She was gone, but-! Can you believe it? She thought I might like it! God has thought about me before. Me!”
Aziraphale nodded patiently through this whole onslaught of words, before placing a hand gently at Carina’s shoulder. “Of course She has. She thinks about all Her creations. And one so accomplished as you are- there’s not a chance that you haven’t crossed Her mind before.”
“Yes, but I thought- I suppose I thought it was in a more general kind of way. There are so many moving parts now to keep track of; I never thought that you or I in particular were on Her mind.” Carina looked lost at this, and Aziraphale patted softly at his shoulder.
“Well, you are, dear. You’ve been making the most wonderful things; of course She took notice of you. I’d wager that you’re one of Her most industrious angels.” He was certain that God must think as highly of Carina as he did. “Now, in my case, I’m more of a background angel-”
Carina reeled backwards, clutching at his collarbone. “Nonsense. Aziraphale, have you seen anyone else puttering around with a sword like that? Has any other angel been tasked with guarding the rest of creation? With protecting us? You’re special. A guardian. No one else can do what you do-”
“My dear, all I do is wander about and wave my sword to keep the peace between things that have no desire to hurt each other.”
“And you’re the absolute best at it there is. Besides, God gave you this job for a reason. Right now, there’s not much to guard, but someday, when creation is finished- who knows? There’s a divine plan, and you’re a vital part of it.”
That much, Aziraphale could agree with, so he nodded blankly until Carina clapped him on the back.
“Oh, by the way, have you seen the dove yet?”
At this, Aziraphale brightened. “I have! One flew by this morning while the whales were being pieced together. It was a treat to see it flying; plain white, like mine.” He ruffled his own feathers happily as he reminisced about it.
“I was thinking of you when I made it.” At Aziraphale’s completely ambushed look, Carina backpedeled quickly, waving his hand in a flippant way. “I mean, it isn’t supposed to represent you- you’re much more respectable than a plump bird, but you know, with your white wings- I know you don’t build, but I do, and it only seemed fair to have something in creation that reflected you too.”
“T-thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale got out eventually, when he was halfway done with being moved by the gesture. “That’s the kindest gift anyone has ever given me.”
“It’s the least you deserve,” Carina said gruffly.
“I do wish I had something for you in return. You wouldn’t happen to want a flaming sword, would you? It’s my most prized possession,” Aziraphale said, only half-joking. He turned it so the hilt was facing Carina, who just laughed.
“What would I do with the thing?”
“About as much as I do, probably. I suppose I’ll have to save it for someone who really needs it,” he said with a sigh as he slid it back into its sheath. Carina watched him put it away, and then shook his head, looking amused.
“That sounds like the right idea. Anyhow, I’ve got a long list of assignments to get prepared for, so I’ll have to find you again later. Ta.” And he took off.
Aziraphale waved his goodbye, even if he was pretty certain Carina wouldn’t be looking back.
As he herded a mob of emus back in the right direction that night, he came to realize that he had been given more than one gift today.
Carina knew his name. Aziraphale had never given it to him, but he knew it regardless, which means he must have asked someone else, or paid much more attention than Aziraphale did. How mortifying, to know that he was failing his side of the friendship, calling his best friend by a thoughtless nickname all this time. He would have to fix this immediately, as embarrassing as it would be to admit. But Carina was good-natured, even if he did tease sometimes, so hopefully he wouldn’t hold this blunder against Aziraphale for too long.
And Aziraphale did so want to finally know his angel’s name.
--
Aziraphale resolved to bite back his pride and finally ask Carina for his name, but the Sixth Day was very, very busy. He spotted his beloved friend several times throughout the course of those days, making amusing little creatures with no legs, and furry ones with large curling horns, and a precious crawling thing with spots and gills and a tail. Aziraphale wanted very much to catch him and ask about each of his creations, but there was simply no time. At most, he would receive a wave from across the desert, or a quick comment about the difficulties of making wool or the quality of Aziraphale’s posture, but never long enough for Aziraphale to lead into the big question.
And now that there was all manner of animals everywhere, Aziraphale had somewhat of a job to do, warding off curious lions and hippopotamuses and moose from bothering the angels who were forming delicate dragonflies and mice. After all the beasts and creeping things had been made, Aziraphale thought that he might be able to find a moment to spend with Carina, but then it was time for the grand event.
It was time to create humanity.
Aziraphale spent the duration pacing the walls of the garden, making sure nothing came to disturb God and Her chosen few. When the deed was done, he and many others throughout the day came by to catch a glimpse of the humans, who seemed at times so like them, and at other times, so different.
He found them to be rather sweet. Eve would go exploring and stop whenever she found something interesting to show Adam, and he would collect flowers and help weave them into her hair. They cared for another. It made him glad to be watching over them.
They were fast asleep when Carina came skittering across the top of the wall like a newborn giraffe.
Aziraphale gestured silently for him to come over, bemused by his harried appearance. “Good evening, dear. Why the rush?”
“I got caught up making bats again, didn’t even realize the time. Did you see it? The big event?” he asked, sounding a little breathless. Aziraphale wanted to smooth a hand down his back and remind him that he didn’t really need to breathe, but he kept his hands primly to himself.
“Only the aftermath, but it was still quite beautiful. Look, there they are.”
Carina perched himself on the edge of the wall to peer down at the humans. “They look so...soft. Fragile, somehow. It’s good they’ve got you to watch them.”
“They’re quite well off even without me, but it does feel good to have a proper assignment,” Aziraphale said, readjusting his sword as he sat down beside his angel. “Have you got time to stay tonight? Humans snore when they sleep; it’s endearing.”
“No, sorry, I’ve got to jet. I- I wanted to see you and the humans before I left for the day. Love to stay, but I’m being called back to head office. Something about those of us in the amphibian program; I don’t know, it sounds like some kind of red tape issue. We could meet tomorrow?” He paused, wings tucked in but fluttering a bit anxiously, as if he didn’t want to disappoint Aziraphale, who waved him on despite that disappointment.
“Yes- no worries, I know you must be drowning in work right now.”
“I’ll meet you by your plant cluster.”
“I’ll be waiting for you there.”
There passed a brief moment where neither of them moved, and on Aziraphale’s part, it was because he still had so many words he wanted to say. He wanted to know Carina’s name, but he also wanted so much more. He wanted to know every part of the other angel, he wanted to memorize everything that made him who he was.
He wanted to understand exactly what this feeling was that was painted onto each of his atoms, because it felt a whole lot like love, but more. Aziraphale knew love: he was born from it, and he would know it in his bones no matter its form, and yet he still couldn’t describe the depth of the emotion he felt when he saw his angel.
Carina was his first friend, his best friend, and sometimes it felt like he was something else too. Something Aziraphale didn’t have the words for.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said, after swallowing down all his half-formed thoughts, hoping that by then he would be able to piece together everything he wanted to say.
With a slow nod, Carina stood and spread his wings— darkly comforting under the light of the moon. “Goodnight, Aziraphale.”
--
Tomorrow did not come. For tomorrow was the Seventh Day, and on the Seventh Day God rested, and on the Seventh Day came the Fall.
Aziraphale couldn’t have anticipated the Fall. No one, save for God, had seen it coming. That the brightest of them could tumble so violently from grace was inconceivable, and yet it had happened anyway.
Was this in the divine plan? The delineation of good and evil?
There was Heaven and Earth, and now there too was Hell. Lucifer had taken with him countless scores of angels: those whose ambition had grown too large, or whose thoughts had turned a shade too dark, or who had simply asked too many questions about the plan.
The fallout seemed eternal, and Aziraphale was exhausted every day to find that another angel he knew had gone over to the other side. Everywhere he looked, there were empty spaces left behind by people he used to greet in the mornings and wave off at night.
He spent long hours thinking about Carina, and whether he’d simply been reassigned to another sector of the universe, some faraway galaxy to oversee the birth and death of new stars. Because he couldn’t have Fallen.
Not him.
If someone like Aziraphale’s crow-plumed angel — who was clever and curious, who burned with brilliant potential and laughed when he sprouted new blooms and forged stars that glowed with all the love the Almighty had given him — if someone could be so good and still Fall...
...then how could Aziraphale ever stand a chance of not doing the same?
He was but a simple guard. A Principality, sure, but all he did was stand around and follow orders that didn’t lead anywhere and wonder at the beauty of things others had created.
Was his continued grace a mistake? Or some kind of test? Was it only a matter of time before he joined his dearest friend on the other side of the great divide?
Aziraphale thought constantly about how things could have been different, if perhaps he had known what was to come. Could he have warned Carina? Set him on a better path? But already he found it difficult to know where Carina had strayed, for hadn’t he followed every one of Her instructions as well as he could? Hadn’t She seen the love with which he formed every precious creation?
Hadn’t She understood how remarkable he was?
Shouldn’t She have loved him half as much as Aziraphale did?
Aziraphale had to try very hard to stop thinking about these things whenever one of the other angels passed by, because they all looked so forlorn and lost and angry, and he feared that if he continued down this path, he too could find himself hurtling down through the firmament and the earth, down into the sulfur and the fire. Because he wasn’t certain that he was naturally good enough to remain on Heaven’s side. He wasn’t certain he deserved to stay here among his brethren when so many others who he had thought good, fine angels, had been lost to temptation.
He would have to make an effort. He couldn’t give Heaven a reason to doubt his loyalty. He didn’t know if it helped or not that none of the other angels socialized with him much, too busy scrambling to fill the gaps in their ranks and fortify their defenses in case Hell should get any ideas, but even when they spoke to him, he didn’t feel any less alone.
After the reassignments, Aziraphale was placed at the Eastern Gate. To guard, of course, because that was his role. It was a job that actually served some purpose now, since there were animals beyond the walls of the garden, as well as agitators, agents for the other side. Wily ones.
Aziraphale spent his days staring out past the horizon of sand, and at some moments, looking down into the garden to be sure the humans were still safe and contained.
He spent his nights looking at the stars.
Nice day after nice day passed in such a fashion, because there still wasn’t really much to guard from, even after all that hullabaloo from upstairs. He watched the sand. He watched the stars. The other angels remained in Heaven, above it all.
And then, one day, a serpent entered the garden.