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Sodom, 1897 BC
Azra had been having a perfectly lovely day, before the bolt of unnaturally orange lightning split the sky above Sodom, crackling with divine power.
“Oh, no,” Azra murmured, reaching out with his senses– he’d known that Coriel was in town, he’d had a drink with him just the other day, and he could still sense him, but... there was another presence, too, one Azra hadn’t felt since the day he Fell.
“Azra?” Aya tugged on his sleeve, drawing his attention back to the small crowd gathered around him, all of whom were staring at him with varying levels of concern and exasperation.
“I– I think something awful is about to happen,” Azra said, focusing in on Sandalphon’s aura as best he could, trying desperately to figure out exactly where the Archangels was and what he could possibly want with a town like Sodom. “We have to leave the city.”
“She’s gone mad,” one of the other said– an older woman named Elutil who’d never liked Azra much. “There’s nothing happening.”
“I trust Azra,” Aya said. “If she says something bad is coming, I believe her. She’s done nothing but help us.”
“I want to know what this bad thing is before we flee from it,” Sabit said. “Maybe we can fight it!”
Azra grimaced. “It is… I expect that God’s Wrath has come to punish Sodom. We need to leave, if we want any hope of being spared.”
“God is just and merciful,” said Istar, clutching Elutil’s hand. “We have done nothing wrong. He will spare us!”
Azra grimaced. “I’m afraid that She likely doesn't care as much as you think She does.”
“You blaspheme," said Istar.
"I tell the truth," Azra said. "God will not help you here. If you want to survive, you must–”
And then lightning split the sky again, striking the building just to the left of the brothel.
A chorus of screams sounded, and Azra grabbed onto the two women closest to him– Aya and Sabit, he thought– and dragged them outside, into the street, screaming over his shoulder at the rest of the women for them to follow. The lightning continued to strike, powerful, painful smitings, nearly blinding Azra with the holiness of them, and he shoved people blindly towards safety, laying demonic blessings on each person he touched, hoping against all hope that it would be enough to protect them. Even under the burning stink of the smitings, Azra could smell the fear and the panic and the pain permeating the air, mixing with fire and smoke and– of all things– salt.
Then there was a flash of light, and something slammed into Azra’s shoulders, knocking him to the ground and tearing a cry of pain out of his chest. He staggered to his feet, blinking the after-images of the smite out of his eyes, to see Sandalphon standing in front of him, a short, flat broadsword in his hand that matched the flat smile on his face.
“Well, would you look at that?” he sneered. “You just can’t stop fucking up, can you, Aziraphale?”
Azra cried out, pain wracking his already-weakened body at the use of his old name, falling back down to his knees in front of the Archangel.
“Pathetic,” Sandalphon said. “You’re even weaker than you were in Heaven.”
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” Azra snarled, glaring up at Sandalphon through the haze of smoke and pain and tears.
Sandalphon hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I will. You’re not worth the paperwork.”
“How very merciful of you,” Azra muttered.
“It really isn’t,” Sandalphon said cheerful. “Of course, as long as I don’t kill you…” Then he flicked his wrist, extinguishing the holy flames dancing along his blade, and plunged it into Azra’s shoulder.
Azra screamed, barely even noticing as Sandalphon pulled the sword out and flew away with a laugh. He knew, immediately, that with his powers weakened as they had been by trying to save the humans and by Sandalphon’s smiting, that he’d never be able to heal himself on his own. Nobody in the corporations department had even pretended to be willing to heal him in centuries. Coriel was out of the question, especially with an Archangel so close by. There was only one place Azra could go.
With a grimace, Azira gripped his shoulder, squeezed his eyes shut, and sank down through the earth to land hard in Satan’s chambers.
Unsurprisingly, He was there, lounging about and clucking softly when he caught sight of Azra’s crumpled, bloodied form.
“Oh, my poor little rabbit,” He said, running a hand through Azra’s hair and sending healing miracles through it down into his body. Azra gasped at the burn of it, then sagged in relief, using his own miracle to vanish the blood and dirt that had soaked through his gloves and robes, to remove the stink of salt and smoke and sin from the room.
“Come here,” Satan said, more of a demand than a request, and Azra clambered up into His lap, let himself be enfolded in iron-hot red arms and held close to His nigh-scorching chest. “What happened?”
“Sandalphon,” Azra said. “He– I’m fairly certain that he completely destroyed Sodom. I don’t know about the other cities. He smited– smited? Smote? I’m not sure– he hit me, and then stabbed me and flew off. I’m fairly certain he meant for me to discorporate.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you completely,” Satan said, his voice utterly indecipherable.
“I suppose I am,” Azra said quietly.
“He’s lucky, too,” Satan said, booping Azra on the nose, and Azra only just managed to keep himself from cringing away from the touch. “I’m not about to let anything happen to my favourite pet.”
“Thank you,” Azra said, because he had to. He turned his head, burying his face in Satan’s shoulder, partly to keep Satan from seeing his expressions, which he’d always been remarkably terrible at controlling, and partly to keep Him from touching his nose again.
“Should I send you back Up?” Satan asked. “What have you done, lately?”
“Well, clearly, I managed to corrupt an entire city far enough that Heaven thought it prudent to just wipe it off the map,” Azra said. “The vast majority of the adult souls in Sodom belong to us, now, I’m sure of it.” He was lying, of course, he hadn’t had a thing to do with however corrupted the cities of the plain had been, but he had gotten the commendation for it about a year ago anyways, and as he had accepted it, it would simply be bad form at this point to point out the error.
Satan hummed thoughtfully. “But it was destroyed. And you were hurt in the process.”
“It won’t happen again,” Azra said. “I’ll be more careful next time. Go for a more subtle sort of manipulation. Heaven won’t suspect a thing.”
Satan placed a hand under Azra’s chin, forcing his head up to meet His eyes. They were pitch-black, as they always were, cold and utterly unforgiving.
“I don’t want to see you like that again,” He said, in a voice that would have been gentle had it been anyone else. “You know how I hate it when you get hurt, my little rabbit. There is, of course, no shame in being discorporated, but if you are… well, I’ll have to take measures to ensure your safety. I don’t want you getting yourself into trouble, darling.”
“I’ll be quite all right. Don’t you worry,” Azra said, hoping against all hope that Satan wouldn’t keep him Down Here, trapped and alone, where he’d never see Coriel again–
Azra shoved that thought from his mind as forcefully as he could and buried his face once more in Satan’s neck, hiding a wince at the nearly painful heat of Him.
“Very well,” Satan said, stroking a hand through Azra’s hair, His claws just barely brushing against his scalp. “Head back up to Sodom for me, little rabbit? I want to know just how bad the damage is. And, if you run across any angels, I would be much obliged if you discorporated them for daring to lay a hand on my pet.”
Azra nodded and only just kept himself from positively leaping out of Satan’s lap– it wouldn’t do to be ungrateful. Once upright, he bowed quickly, then hurried off to find the exit that let out in Sodom– he hated tunnelling up if he didn’t have to, it was always so very uncomfortable, and unnecessarily dirty.
Of course, he didn’t make it far before a hand fastened around his wrist, dragging him into a slightly darker, slightly damper, and infinitely more empty side-hall. Azra yanked his wrist free and spun around to see Dukes Hastur and Ligur, of course, today accompanied by another Duke, Crocell, and Naberius, a Marquess.
Azra rolled his eyes. “I’m meant to be heading Upstairs, if you don’t mind, so I’d quite appreciate it if you fellows let me go.”
“And what’re you gonna do about it?” asked Hastur, grabbing Azra’s recently-healed shoulder to push him up against one of the filthy walls. “Run crying to the Big Man?”
“Gentlemen, I really do not have time for this, and I’m quite sure that you don’t, either,” Azra snapped, jerking himself out of Hastur’s grip and walking firmly towards the main hall once more.
Hands grabbed onto him again, slamming him up against the wall again, this time more than hard enough to hurt, especially given how sore Azra still was from Satan’s particular brand of healing.
“Just because the Boss is fucking you doesn’t mean you’re any better than the rest of us,” Niberius rasped. “You with your little human obsessions.”
“Think we ought to bring you down a notch or two,” Crocell said.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Ligur said.
Azra sighed. “If you could do whatever it is you’re planning quickly, and without discorporating me, I’d greatly appreciate it. He’s expecting my report on the state of Sodom in an hour’s time, and I can’t imagine that he’d be pleased to learn that you all are the reason it’s late.”
The four demons glanced at one another nervously.
“He’s bluffing,” Hastur said, though he sounded less than certain about it.
“Now, why would I do something that stupid?” Azra asked. “If I were bluffing, and you fellows found out about it later, I’m quite sure that whatever lesson you have planned for me would be more than compounded. After all, it’s not as though I’m hard to find.”
“He’s got a point about that,” Naberius muttered. “We could always do this later.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Azra said, smiling broadly.
Hastur and Ligur exchanged a series of indecipherable looks as Naberius and Crocell slipped away, muttering to one another.
Then the two Dukes backed off, leaving Azra standing with his back pressed against the slimy, damp wall of Hell.
“We’ll talk later, little rabbit,” Ligur sneered, before they both turned and stalked away.
“Yes, I’m sure we will,” Azra murmured, mentally debating whether or not it was worth it to tell Satan about the encounter. On the one hand, a general hands-off order for the rest of Hell could go a long way, but on the other, Azra could hardly afford for Satan to see him as any weaker than He already did, especially not just now. Perhaps it could wait. After all, it wasn’t as though this would be the first time even Hastur and Ligur in particular had sought to teach Azra some sort of “lesson”. He would be fine.
No one else stopped him, on his way back Up, though at least a couple of demons did jostle him rather more than was strictly necessary, even in the crowded hallways of Hell. Azra didn’t let it bother him. It was… it was easier, to let the other demons do as they wished, than it was to risk his ever-tenuous position or Satan’s inexplicable favour for such an inconsequential thing. And, well… Azra knew that there were benefits to being seen as weak and harmless, ones that went beyond His strange fascination. However much the other demons hated Azra, they also underestimated him, and that could be–
Azra froze as he emerged into Sodom– or, rather, what was left of it. The city was a smoking, burnt-out husk of its former self, nothing left but crumbling ruins and the stink of fear and pain and burning flesh. Gagging on the smell, Azra stumbled forwards, pressing his hands to his face in a desperate attempt to block it all out, almost grateful for the very first time for the bit of Hell-gunk that clung to his gloves, the way it managed to momentarily overpower the stench of death.
No one had survived this. He knew it, deep in his essence, in the shattered centre of his being. None of his efforts, none of the people he’d forced to run, none of his blessings, had done a damn thing. All of those humans, those poor people, dead, gone forever, in a tragedy that Azra had just claimed credit for.
Images danced across Azra’s mind, blurring together with the buildings and bodies before him, images of a Flood, of a sword, of a War, of a Fall, and Azra gave up, gave in, dropped to his knees once again, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.
###
Coriel made sure that Lot and his poor daughters were safe before taking off for Heaven, where Sandalphon was waiting for him.
“Coriel,” the Archangel said in his stupid, nasally voice, with his stupid, smarmy grin. “I thought we should make our report together for this mission.”
“Mission?” Coriel hissed, stalking up to Sandalphon until he was positively towering over him. “You call that a fucking mission? We were supposed to be finding ten good men, not blowing the entire valley off the map!”
“We looked for ten good men, and we didn’t find them,” Sandalphon said, his stupid grin not even wavering. “I simply followed protocol.”
“You didn’t bloody look!” Coriel shouted, throwing his arms up in the air before yanking on his hair in exasperation. “You went to one house, got spooked when thirty people– out of a town of a couple thousand– showed up outside looking to start shit, and started blasting before I could even get a word in! And then– and then– you turned one of the people we were actually authorised to save into bloody salt!”
“She turned around,” Sandalphon said, still sounding supremely unbothered. “After you told them all not to.”
“I was bloody comforting them!” Coriel roared, whirling back around to face Sandalphon again. “I swear to all that is holy, Sandalphon, you don’t have a bloody clue–”
At that, Sandalphon’s expression darkened, and he took a step closer to Coriel, doing his very best to loom menacingly. “You should be careful, Coriel. You’re getting dangerously close to blasphemy.”
“Oh, come off it,” Coriel said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should,” Sandalphon said. “You’re lucky that Gabriel’s been so pleased with your work, or you’d have been demoted ages ago. How does being a Principality sound to you?”
“Like an empty threat,” Coriel said. “I’m heading back down to Earth to clean up your mess, and then I’ll make the report about it on my bloody own.”
Sandalphon snarled at Coriel for a moment longer, then stalked off, and Coriel launched himself back down to Earth, soaring over the smoking, ruined remnants of both Sodom and Gomorrah.
They were gone, both of them. Wiped out. Destroyed. Nothing left but smoking husks, corpses and burnt buildings and a faint demonic aura–
Shit. Shit, that aura was Azra! Coriel dove towards it without thinking, panic flooding through him. Azra had been in Sodom, when Sandalphon had hit it. He could be hurt, he could be dying–
As Coriel landed, a little heavier than he’d meant to, Azra looked up, jumping slightly. He looked up, his oddly alluring pinkish-red eyes meeting Coriel’s, and then going wide.
“Coriel!” he gasped, stumbling to his feet, and Coriel had to fight to keep from collapsing in relief at the wave of something warm and comfortable that rolled off the demon, even tinged with fear and panic as it was right now. “Oh, my dear, are you all right? Are you hurt? What on Earth happened?”
“I should be asking you that,” Coriel said, reaching out to steady Azra before he collapsed, carefully lowering the two of them to the ground. “I know you were here when Sandalphon got started, are you okay? Do you need help?”
“I’m all right,” Azra said, leaning against Coriel for a moment longer than seemed strictly necessary before straightening up rather abruptly. “I, ah, I was here. Sandalphon did find me, and wasn’t very polite about it, but I didn’t discorporate, and He was in a surprisingly decent mood today.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Coriel grumbled.
Azra frowned. “I thought this was a win for your side?”
“Sandalphon thinks it is,” Coriel said. “I, on the other hand, think he’s a sadistic bastard who couldn’t see a good person if they slapped him in the face.”
“Coriel!” Azra gasped. “You shouldn’t say that about any of the Archangels, they could hear you!”
“Angels aren’t supposed to lie,” Coriel said, before falling silent and looking around at the devastation surrounding them. “Is it… it’s really all of them?”
“As far as I can tell,” Azra said, and Coriel could see that he was holding back tears again.
Before he could even think to stop himself, Coriel had wrapped an arm around Azra’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Azra stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping an arm around Coriel’s middle and burying his face in the angel’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Coriel said softly, hiding his own face in Azra’s cloud-soft hair.
“This isn’t your fault,” Azra said, his voice slightly muffled.
“Maybe not entirely, but I... I couldn’t stop it,” Coriel said, shuddering. “I– it was an easy assignment, it really was! Find ten good men in all of Sodom. That was it. But Sandalphon insisted on coming along, and when we got to Lot’s house, one of the gangs showed up outside and started banging on the door, and before I could even get a word out Sandalphon got spooked and started smiting, and I just– I couldn’t stop him.”
“You couldn’t have,” Azra said, hugging Coriel a little closer. “Don’t blame yourself, Coriel, there’s nothing you could have done, not against an Archangel.”
“Well, now, that’s bullshit,” Coriel said, rolling his eyes. “I’m a bloody Seraph, I built stars, I’m just as strong as stupid bloody Sandalphon. I could’ve–”
“No!” Azra said sharply, jerking himself upright, his eyes meeting Coriel’s almost desperately. “You, you cannot fight the Archangels, Coriel, do you know how much danger you’d be in if you tried? You– my dear, they’d– you can’t fight them. You can’t openly rebel against them, you know what happened the last time someone tried!”
Coriel blinked, utterly taken aback. “I– it isn’t that big of a deal, bunny. ‘Sides, I know how to kiss up to Gabriel, I’ll be fine.”
“Still, Coriel,” Azra said softly, taking his hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Ah, come on, you know me.”
“My dear, I’m being serious,” Azra said, looking– looking desperate. Pleading. “I– please, be careful. Please.”
Coriel found that he couldn’t bear to see that expression on Azra’s face. “All right. I’ll be careful. Like I said, Gabe still loves me, I’ll be okay.”
Azra exhaled shakily. “Good. I… Coriel…”
“I know,” Coriel said, pulling Azra into another hug, holding him close, and Azra sucked in a shaky breath, burying his nose in Coriel’s shoulder. Together, they sat there, wrapped up in one another, amongst the ruins of Sodom.