Chapter Text
In the beginning, there was nothing.
Then the Creator formed the Universe.
It was sublime, magnificent, immense, but... It didn't stand on its own. Whenever He turned His back, the Universe would fall apart. So the Creator made rules so that he could focus on other things. But someone still had to be there to enforce the rules. The Creator then imagined beings made of love and light to take care of it. So the angels were made. Amenadiel was the first. Then came the Seven Great Archangels. The higher angels followed, and then a host of others. The Creator gave them all a specific task. Some were responsible for weaving the fabric of Reality. Others made Time flow in one direction only. They were needed to measure gravity, to keep the same shade of black throughout the Universe, or to make the planets turn. Among others.
The Creator then had to make a place to house all these beautiful people once the day was over. He invented Paradise. A special plane located in the center of the Universe and made of His most beautiful creations. A Garden of Delights where trees laden with fruit and flowers stood alongside lakes and rivers of changing hues. The sky was always blue, because there was no rain, the wind carried the most delicate aromas and there was a permanent sweet heat. At the Gates of Paradise, the splendors of the Universe were visible, such as the gas giants tortured by eternal storms or the overflowing lights of the nebulae. The Creator set up a place for Himself on top of a mountain range in order to incarnate and be accessible to the multitudes of children He had just conceived. The angels had a place to rest and enjoy Paradise in those mountains. Dwellings made of beautiful minerals, flowering plants and soft fabrics like clouds where the sky was always visible.
Happy and satisfied, the Creator enjoyed what He had done. Then He needed to create again, that was both His nature and His purpose. What He did then brought about the end of one era and the beginning of another. Like all great changes, it was not without suffering and innocent victims. Was it necessary? If you asked Him, even with tears in your voice, the Creator would just smile without answering. He always smiled, but sometimes His smiles are less beautiful.
Aziraphale was an angel of the Beginnings. That is, when all the major angels were created and the minor roles had to be distributed, Aziraphale was one of the first to be assigned one. He was a Guardian. With a weapon and relative fighting skills, he also had exceptional strength, an innate desire to protect and a very sure instinct. But since there was no life to preserve at the moment, he acted as a tutor to the newborn angels. He would explain to them how everything worked, help them discover their inherent talents, and guide them through their assignments until they were self-sufficient. He loved this deeply. Aziraphale was one of those perfectly good and gentle angels, whose serenity was never in doubt. Of medium height, well-proportioned and finely muscled, he had blond, almost white hair that waved to his shoulders. His face, oval with regular features, radiated kindness, his eyes were light blue and his smile completed his beauty. If he was only a small principality with no great role to play, if his sword of fire was perfectly useless to him and if he didn't have the radiant beauty that some possessed, he was nevertheless satisfied with what he was. However, sometimes he felt a lack, a feeling of emptiness deep inside him, which he could not explain. He turned his gaze to the sky, filled with beauty, and the pain was forgotten for a while. Aziraphale trusted his Creator. He knew that He did not do anything by chance and that his pain would be answered when it should. So he waited.
One morning, as Aziraphale went up to the gates of the Creator's domain to be assigned a new angel to train, he had to stop halfway. His heart began to beat wildly. An intoxicating joy rose so suddenly in his chest that he stumbled. He held on to a tree with his hand over his heart. He suddenly felt sure that a great happiness was waiting for him at the end of the road. He took a deep breath, then started walking again as fast as he could, a smile on his face. The journey seemed endless that morning.
He finally arrived at the lake lined with coniferous trees where the gigantic doors of the Creator's home were reflected. On each side of the gates, made of the most beautiful metals shining in the soft morning light, were a dozen splendid constructions in pink marble delimited by fine colored gauze. It was there that the newborn angels opened their eyes for the first time. Aziraphale took flight and went by instinct to the one on the left, shaded by an old pine tree. He ignored Esiel, who watched him pass by with an angry look on his face and a notebook in his hand. He was supposed to pass by him to get his assignment, then join the one he was supposed to form by calmly going around the lake. Not fly over like a madman, ruffling everyone in the process. But since Esiel didn't try to stop him either, Aziraphale had the confirmation that he was going to the right place and his heart beat even faster. He fell more than he landed in front of the entrance, hurriedly folded his wings and pushed aside the silver curtains with a lump in his throat. An angel lay on a bed of purple cushions in the middle of the room, wrapped in his wings. Aziraphale thanked the Creator fervently for being able to witness his awakening. He rushed to his side, fell to his knees and spread the soft white feathers. The new angel opened his eyes and smiled at him.
Aziraphale had never appreciated a smile so much
He looked at him. The angel had long black hair pulled back over his chest that covered him modestly to mid-thigh. Slim and slender, he was taller than Aziraphale by a good head. Everything about him was fine, his hands and his features, not to mention his delicately hemmed mouth. He had the most beautiful eyes Aziraphale had ever seen. Elongated eyes, of a very clear green crossed with yellow flashes. Aziraphale reached out and cupped his cheek. His skin was very soft. The other one looked at him and accepted the caress with a confidence and a simplicity which made him rise the tears to the eyes. Suppressing them with a radiant smile, Aziraphale asked him his name.
"Ramiel."
His voice was deep, a little hoarse. He kept his eyes fixed on Aziraphale's, seeming to enjoy the touch of his hand.
Aziraphale knew that Ramiel would not be like the other angels he had accompanied. He was attracted to him instinctively, without knowing him, and that was not like him at all. But he had the impression that a link was established between them, something strong that filled his heart with happiness.
He decided not to say anything and to behave with him as he did with everyone else. He wanted to let him find out for himself if he felt the same way. He wanted to leave him free to make his choice without influencing him. So he withdrew his hand, stepped back a little and tried to make his face look a little more professional.
"Welcome, Ramiel. I am Aziraphale. I will be your tutor and hopefully your friend. I will accompany you for the first few days and show you everything you need to know. I will answer all your questions and help you find your place. I am here for you, I will always be here for you."
It was a welcome speech that lacked some neutrality, but Aziraphale was still confused. Ramiel smiled again.
"Aziraphale... Your name is very beautiful."
Pink with pleasure, the blond angel thanked him, stood up and held out his hand to help him do the same. Ramiel took it and stood up. He had the glance welded with that of Aziraphale, a light smile with the lips and he kept very naturally his hand in his.
Aziraphale's heart was pounding. He felt as if warmth was being communicated through their clasped hands and was flowing up his arm, invading his torso. Ramiel was still staring at him. Aziraphale forced himself to take his eyes off his, and looking down, he saw that the angel was still naked. Blushing, he pulled out a finely embroidered garment and dressed him in it. Ramiel let himself do it obediently, even if his eyes always returned on Aziraphale. The latter, having freed the long smooth hair from his collar, asked him what he wanted to do with it. Wasn't it too long for his taste?
"Whatever you like."
The answer was whispered softly by Ramiel while they were very close and that the blond angel had his hands plunged in the brown locks. Aziraphale answered with a knotted voice.
"They are beautiful."
"So keep them like that."
Aziraphale thought for a moment.
"Turn around, please."
Ramiel complied and Aziraphale gathered his hair behind his back. It flowed through his fingers like water. He longed to bury his face in their softness. He contented himself with caressing them briefly, hoping to be able to do it one day. Then he delicately separated them into three sections, braided them and tied them with a golden thread. He turned Ramiel around with a touch on his shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, for the newborn angel was even more beautiful this way. His face was enhanced and his eyes shone. Aziraphale took a deep breath and smiled at him. It seemed to him that he could not do anything else in front of him. He took his hand again, unable to help himself, and guided him outside.
Ramiel followed him in silence. He showed no confusion or any trace of the anxiety that sometimes paralyzes newborns. He shook Aziraphale's hand, his face serene, and when the blond angel turned to him, he saw only trust in his eyes. Aziraphale was touched that he felt safe at his side.
The plain was now bathed in light. They walked towards Asiel, Esiel's partner, who was distributing the new houses. Ramiel looked around in wonder. Aziraphale named everything they saw on the way. Ramiel proved to be curious, eager to learn, and within minutes of being born, he had already memorized most of the names of his surroundings.
Asiel was a tall, brown-skinned, dark-eyed angel, as lax as his clear, ice-blue-eyed counterpart was fussy and procedural. He greeted them with a smile. He also had a notebook in his hand and looked up the location of Ramiel's house as soon as he showed up. Aziraphale, with a very sweet thought in mind, put his hand on his arm to get him out of his pages.
"My dear Asiel, would it be possible for Ramiel to live with me?"
Asiel looked at him a little surprised.
"Well... That's not the procedure..."
Aziraphale insisted.
"I'd be very happy to."
"And what does the principal think?" the brown angel asked, turning to Ramiel. Who just shrugged his shoulders.
"I would be happy to live with him."
Aziraphale smiled and took his hand again. Asiel sighed.
"I see... If that's the way it is. I'll write it down, Aziraphale. Ramiel will live with you. If he changes his mind, although I'm surprised by the way he looks at you... He will have his own house. Is that okay with you?"
"Thank you, Asiel."
They walked away, hand in hand, as Aziraphale continued to point out what they passed on the way. Asiel tucked his notebook under his arm and followed them, both happy for them and slightly envious. He sighed, ruffled his hair and glanced at Esiel. He was standing perfectly straight, his face closed, and was talking to a little angel who looked badly awake and was obviously late. He never looked at him when they were working. In fact, he rarely looked at him and talked to him even less despite Asiel's best efforts.
"Some people are lucky..." he murmured as he saw them disappear into the distance. "Really."
It is necessary to know that the angels were at the same time perfectly androgynous and asexual. The feminine did not exist yet, just like the living creatures. All the angels were thus "he" by default, because they did not know what to be of other. And since they obviously had no need to reproduce, they only knew the purest and least carnal form of love. Sex was not forbidden, it simply did not exist. But love was. The angels loved the Creator deeply, of course, and everything He created. And they loved each other. This love could take many forms. Each angel had a brother, a friend, or a lover with whom to find happiness. The bonds formed between two angels were never broken.
The days followed each other, but they were not the same. Aziraphale was happy. Ramiel's presence filled him. The attraction he had felt at first sight had turned into a deep love that each day spent with him strengthened. They got up together every morning. Aziraphale would braid Ramiel's hair. Then they would go out to admire the awakening of the forest below. Then they left for another day of training. Aziraphale taught him the name of everything, the respect and love that one owed to the Creator. He taught him how to fly, how to transform himself into pure light to travel great distances. He made him taste the most beautiful fruits, the purest waters, although angels do not need to eat. He showed him all the wonders of the Creator and taught him to appreciate them sincerely. He tried to answer the countless questions that Ramiel asked him, delighted by his interest. Soon he had nothing more to learn. His nature as a Builder angel was evident. He was assigned to the operation and maintenance of a young solar system.
He had become an angel with an infectious smile, self-confident, impetuous and excited about every new thing. Aziraphale loved to hear him call him with a delighted air to tell him about what he had just found. He could discuss it for hours, wondering about its function, composition or usefulness. Aziraphale liked to talk with him, even if he did not share his need to know everything. They were very different. Ramiel liked noise and bustle, while Aziraphale liked quiet. He was sociable and wanted to meet everyone, while the blond angel was content with a few close friends, although he called each angel by his first name. He had a certain thirst for knowledge, whereas Aziraphale, because of his age and experience, had already satisfied it. And Ramiel questioned everything, while the other was only certain and confident. Yet they got along perfectly. If they went their separate ways, both for their respective tasks and to do what they loved, they always found themselves sharing a moment together. Ramiel, who needed to move around and explore, would happily sit and listen to Aziraphale tell him about the universe or sing. Aziraphale had an exquisite voice. And Aziraphale always followed Ramiel on his travels through Paradise or the galaxies he felt like visiting, even if he preferred the quiet of his home.
It was Ramiel who bridged the distance between them with Aziraphale's delicacy.
If the blond angel had remained as neutral as possible while he trained him, he had not been able to stop himself from expressing his love with a look or a caress. He was glowing when the other angel was near him, it was so obvious that only Ramiel's youth explained why he didn't realize it earlier. When he understood that his teacher, his friend, his beloved companion felt something deeper than friendship for him, Ramiel felt very happy. He had gradually looked at him differently. If there had always been affection in his eyes, they had become more tender. He had understood that if he often did what the other liked, if he was always looking for him and only felt fully happy near him, it was not only out of gratitude or admiration.
So he had done the first one very naturally.
One evening, one of those sweet evenings when they stayed together watching the stars light up in the sky and talking, Ramiel had taken Aziraphale's hand. It was a very familiar gesture between them. The brown angel had caressed his fingers with his other hand, while his elder turned his head towards him, his bright smile on his lips.
"What is it, Ramiel?"
Ramiel felt no fear, only joy.
"I am in love with you," he said simply.
Aziraphale flinched. His eyes widened. He grabbed both his hands, tightening his fingers around his. He looked confused, happy, intimidated. He searched for words, then laughed shakily.
"I... I've been waiting for this for ages and now I don't know what to say."
"Tell me you love me too."
"I love you, Ramiel. I love you, if you only knew how much!"
Ramiel smiles.
"Show me."
Aziraphale dropped his hands and moved closer to Ramiel to touch him. He gently drew him even closer, taking his face with both hands, caressing his neck with his thumbs. Ramiel opened his arms and closed them tightly on his lover's body. Aziraphale, deliciously close, his eyes so blue becoming silver in the brightness of the moon, put his mouth on his. And Ramiel felt his heart, his soul, to dilate of joy and pleasure, so much so that his body appeared to him too small and that his breathing became jerky. He returned his kiss, savoring his mouth, his taste and the softness of his skin under his hands. He suddenly felt a need for the other, his presence, his body, his smile and his love so strong that he felt he would die if they were taken away. They kissed for a long time, discovering each other with pleasure. It was as if a small part of them, missing until now, was finally taking its place. They finally felt complete, fulfilled. Clasped together, Aziraphale finally buried his face in Ramiel's hair. The night grew deep, but they did not see it. Finally, exhausted but delighted, they returned and fell asleep in each other's arms.
The next morning, it was as if everything was different without having changed. Love had always been a part of their relationship, which simply became even more tender.
They were never as happy as they were during that time.
And they were not destined to be so happy afterwards.
Of all the angels, Lucifer was the most beautiful.
He was among the first to be given to the world by a Creator in a particularly generous mood that day. Lucifer was the angel with the most harmonious voice, the sharpest mind, and the most agile tongue. He was charged with bringing light to the Universe, a more than prestigious task. In every way, he was treated by the Creator as a beloved son and behaved as such.
So when He invented man from a handful of dust, Lucifer could not understand the love He had for him. How could the Creator appreciate a thing that barely stood on his legs and stammered when looked at too closely? Lucifer was certain that the Creator's favor would soon return to him. He hoped so, consumed by jealousy. But it was not to be. Hurt, he refused to bow when the Creator asked all the angels to show Adam their respect. He could not accept to be less loved and less considered, he who was made of air, light and fire. He felt infinitely superior to this being of mud. He asked the Creator about His plans, about the place this creature would take in Life and in His love, but the Creator merely reached out to him. Lucifer shrank back in anger. He turned his back on the Creator and left Paradise, followed by all the angels who shared his opinion.
Aziraphale did not see the danger.
He had been one of the first to take a knee, and although Ramiel had hesitated for a moment, he had finally bowed as well. The blond angel pitied the Lightbearer, sincerely hoping that he would come back from his moment of madness and that the Creator, in His infinite goodness, would forgive him.
When all the remaining angels stood up, there was a long silence. The Creator stared blankly in Lucifer's direction as Adam shivered beside Him. Aziraphale turned his head to Ramiel. The brown angel was looking in the same direction as the Creator, and his lover couldn't make out the expression on his face. Chilled by a bad feeling, he took the other angel's hand and squeezed it hard.
That night, many angels left Paradise to join Lucifer.
In the morning, Ramiel and Aziraphale separated, as they did every day, the former to attend to his planets and the latter to join the particularly timid angel he was forming. Aziraphale embraced Ramiel for a long time, whom he felt worried. He was always worried and sought comfort in the warmth of the other. Ramiel pulled away with a brief smile, placed a last kiss on his forehead and left with a powerful flapping of his wings, taking with him the "I love you" whispered by Aziraphale.
The day went on like any other, but as the sun began to decline, the thunderous sound of a horn echoed through Paradise. Aziraphale, and all the angels who heard it for the first time, understood what it meant. The immediate gathering was sounded. The anxiety that had been knotting Aziraphale's chest since the day before turned into a dark certainty. He sent the young angel home with a few short words of comfort. He then flew into an orange and red sky to reach the outskirts of Paradise where the horn's complaint came from. All the mature angels were gathered in this immense valley surrounded by mountains. Behind them rose two titanic golden gates that protruded from the snowy peaks and cast harsh metallic reflections on the crowd of anxious faces.
Amenadiel, wearing helmet and sword, stood before them. He spoke to them and his voice carried as if he were addressing each one in particular.
"Angels! Paradise is under attack by those who have denied the Creator. Lucifer and the rebels intend to slaughter all of us and then force Adam to bend before them. They want to prove the Creator wrong!"
Amenadiel's voice swelled.
"We faithful cannot let that happen! We who have knelt without hesitation, we who have kept the faith, must defend Him!"
It was difficult to bear his gaze, his eyes having become wells of liquid light.
"Angels! Take your weapons! Let's go and face the traitors together, for the sake of our Creator!"
A great clamor answered him, but Aziraphale did not participate. He looked around for Ramiel, praying that he was not there, that he had not heard the call. Around him, his fellow men were preparing for battle with a fervor he did not understand. He would do his duty, but his heart was already bleeding at the thought of facing angels he surely knew. Anguish twisted his stomach. The silence fell again. The wait seemed interminable, each minute bringing with it the fear of recognizing his lover among the latecomers. But the arrivals soon stopped and all the angels were there, in arms. The Seven had also arrived, surrounding Amenadiel. Michael had stepped forward and formed battalions, each led by an archangel.
The waiting resumed. Aziraphale was breathing easier. Ramiel was not there, he could not take part in this sad fratricide. He was thanking the Creator when they finally arrived.
The rebel angels were unrecognizable. They had cut off their hair for the most part, torn off their halos, and wore dark clothes as if they were denying the whiteness of Paradise. Lucifer, at their heads, brandished an endless spear, his face hollowed out with hatred. They came from above, effortlessly overtook the Gates of Heaven and came down like a wave on the army of angels below.
The fight started with a terrible crash.
Aziraphale was as if possessed by an external force that breathed out his doubts and remorse. He fought like a rabid man, surrounded by his friends caught up in the same frenzy, facing opponents just as savage.
The screams, the groans of pain, and the crashing of metal were dizzying.
An indefinable time passed, hours perhaps, as the sky was frozen in the blaze of sunset and the golden light bathed the scene in agonizing beauty. Everywhere the eye stopped, bodies lay, damaged or not, silent or screaming. The opponents became less numerous and Aziraphale gradually regained his footing. What had pushed him was slowly withdrawing. Seized with a certainty, he turned his eyes towards Amenadiel who had remained away from the fight, and understood by seeing him on his knees, devastated, that it was he who had filled them all with his rage. Aziraphale dropped his sword, which immediately went out, staggered and fell to the ground. He closed his eyes. He was the only survivor within meters. The battle continued on the periphery of his gaze.
If he could have looked up, he would have seen Michael confront Lucifer in midair. And win. At that moment, as Lucifer fell and crashed to the ground with a thud, the fight stopped. Silence fell abruptly as the rebel angels saw their leader struck down. They had lost. They dropped their weapons and surrendered.
But Aziraphale saw none of this. When he looked up, trying to regain his courage, his eyes fell on a body six meters away. And more specifically on a braid of black hair that he knew all too well.
His mind refused to understand. The name itself did not want to leave his mouth. Indifferent to everything that was happening around him, his eyes focused on the one who had drawn his attention, he stood up and threw himself forward. He tripped over his sword in his haste to run towards the other. When he reached him, he fell to his knees and turned him around, feverishly spreading his dust-stained wings, which surrounded and protected him.
Ramiel's eyes were closed.
An uncontrollable groan erupted in Aziraphale's chest. He looked down at him and pulled his clothes aside, searching for his wounds. There was a mark on his forehead and when he opened his tunic, he saw that a gaping wound was opening on his shoulder. Aziraphale hastened to heal him. He passed his lighted hands over the wounds and they disappeared. Ramiel took a deep breath, woke up, moaning in pain and fear. As he recognized Aziraphale, his eyes filled with tears. He stood up and grabbed his arms, squeezing them with all his might as he spoke in a hurried voice:
"I'm so sorry, Aziraphale. I swear that's not what I wanted. I sought him out just to ask him a question or two, to find out. I know I shouldn't have. I couldn't help it. And he, he... He speaks so well, if you knew. They dragged me down with them before I knew what I was doing. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't hurt anyone. I looked all over for you, and then they hit me, I fell down, but I didn't do anything, believe me, I swear. Do you believe me? Tell me that you believe me, I beg you, my love... "
The blonde angel saw what he had unconsciously pushed aside. The absence of light on Ramiel's decomposed face. The blackness of his tunic. The iron sword at his side.
Ramiel was with the rebels.
Aziraphale's heart sank.
Ramiel cried with his head down, shaking with heartbreaking sobs. Aziraphale felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks. He pulled Ramiel against him and held him so tightly that the other angel gasped for breath. He was going to tell him that everything was going to be okay. That the Creator would forgive them all, that this was just a trial and that nothing happened by chance. That he knew Ramiel hadn't really meant to rebel and that it wouldn't be held against him. And above all that he loved him, that he loved him more than anything else, no matter what he did, and that they would face what was going to happen together.
He didn't have the time.
Metatron's voice rose, drowning out Aziraphale's, unaffected and emotionless, tearing through the briefly returned calm. It was so powerful that it made every angel still standing tremble.
"Let the infidels fall! Let them no longer offend the Creator. They are fallen, cast out of Paradise. They are no longer angels!"
Ramiel turned his head towards Aziraphale, his eyes terrified. The earth opened under his knees like a black mouth and sucked his legs out from between Aziraphale's arms. He was swallowed up to the chest in an instant. Aziraphale began to scream without knowing what he was saying. He tried to hold Ramiel's hands, who was silently crying, but they slipped away and after one last look, his lover was swallowed up. The earth closed with a shudder. All traces were gone.
Ramiel was gone.
"RAMIEL! RAM..."
Aziraphale threw himself forward and began to dig the earth frantically. He didn't think anymore, shouted until his voice was broken, kicking up handfuls of dust when it was useless. Ramiel was not under the ground, but out of Paradise, expelled from it. But Aziraphale couldn't admit it and was only obsessed with the urgency of getting him out of the ground. The pain that drowned him extinguished his reason. He had torn off almost all his fingernails as he was digging fast and hard. Around him resounded other laments, cries of despair, but of victory and joy too. Tears blurred his vision and he had sunk up to his shoulders while continuing to call Ramiel with a broken voice when one seized him by the arms to pull him back. He struggled violently, struck blindly, flapping his wings and clumsily looking for his sword, without succeeding in freeing himself as his movements were so disordered. He did not even recognize Esiel's voice, which begged him to pull himself together.
But the Creator appeared and everything froze. Time was suspended. He spoke in perfect silence. Each of His words shaped reality.
"Forget those who are now fallen. Forget those you will never see again, the feelings definitely lost. Forget so that the suffering is alleviated. I want to."
And the angels forgot the friendships and loves made with the others, those who were falling through space at that very moment. And they too forgot. When they rose, burned, transformed, tortured, in another plane that would later be called Hell, their memories had been altered. Did this affect their personalities? Could this be the reason for their hatred, their cruelty? By forgetting the pleasure of loving and being loved, would the fallen then become demons?
Only the Creator knew.
For everything had changed.
Then He disappeared and Time began to flow normally again.
Each angel turned to those still on the ground. Aziraphale, suddenly released by an astonished Esiel, was among the first to help. He wondered why his cheeks and tunic were wet with tears, but soon forgot his question in the whirlwind of the hours that followed.
The sun had finally set on this day of horror.
Time passed.
After the fall of Lucifer and his people, a Duality was established. Good versus evil. The Creator and His angels against Lucifer and the demons. The angels now had an enemy to fight. The issue was the human being, represented for the moment by a single couple that they had to protect and guide.
Strangely enough, all this happened very quickly and soon it was as if it had always been like this for both sides.
In the time that followed, the Creator chose a small blue planet in a tiny solar system and made it the Garden of Eden. There He placed Adam and his mate Eve. The Creator also put many other life forms there to accompany and entertain them, which He called "animals. It was a beautiful place somewhat reminiscent of Paradise.
Aziraphale was assigned to guard the eastern gate of the Garden and every life form within it. His nature as a Guardian was perfectly useful and he should have felt fulfilled. He wasn't, and he didn't know why. It confused and annoyed him vaguely, like when you can't remember something. He finally put it down to recent events. The battle and the fall of the rebels had affected him deeply. He hated the idea of having to fight former allies, even though he knew what had happened to them. He had never met any of them before, but he had in mind the sermon that Gabriel had given them. The Archangel had been very clear : "Don't think of them as angels, they are demons, they are everything we are not, they will have no mercy on you, so don't have any for them." To be an angel and not feel pity? Isn't that a contradiction? But so much had changed. Aziraphale sometimes wondered if it was for the best. But it wasn't as if he had a choice or could do anything about it...
He sighed heavily.
Sitting next to the gigantic apple tree that grew in the center of the Garden, Aziraphale looked up to the sky. From Earth, Paradise was invisible, but the angels could see the hidden planes and the vision of his land always comforted him. Sobering up, he began to sing again.
He sang because he loved it and to pass the time. His crystalline voice vibrated among the lush plants of the Garden and it was not uncommon for it to draw an animal or two to his feet. He loved to watch her new life forms, so beautiful and fragile.
A long black and red snake appeared between the tall grass, raising its triangular head towards the blond angel. The latter stopped his song and smiled, asking him playfully: "What are you doing here?"
The animal was very close. It opened its mouth, showing whitish fangs. "My work," the snake answered in a sour voice, making Aziraphale jump.
He brought out his sword and brandished it automatically. The snake recoiled quickly, snapping its jaw.
"Let's calm down, the angel! It is you who ask stupid questions!"
Aziraphale did not understand immediately. Then he looked at his hand and lowered his weapon, looking sheepish.
"I'm sorry, you surprised me. It's the first time an animal has answered me. I'm not used to it, I've only been here two days."
"I am not an animal."
And the snake transformed. In a second, his image blurred and in his place stood a male being. He had black hair, which looked like it had been angrily cut above the neck and framed a thin face with amazing yellow eyes. He went barefoot, dressed in a simple dark sheet that draped him from his knees to his chest, exposing a shoulder with a long scar across it. On his neck, his shoulders, his back and his calves were visible the fine black drawing of scales of snake, which disappeared under his clothing. Two huge wings, with blackened feathers and shriveled tips, were spread out on his back.
"You are a demon," Aziraphale understood, as the other quietly folded his wings and leaned against the trunk of the apple tree.
"Crawly," he introduced himself with a sharp-toothed smile. He didn't offer his hand, of course, but he didn't look aggressive either. Aziraphale didn't know what he should do. He was supposed to protect the Couple and the animals. Should he attack it? The demon wasn't hurting anyone right now. And Aziraphale preferred to avoid fighting again as much as possible. The memories were still very painful. Instead, he bowed his head briefly, but politely.
"I am Aziraphale."
"Nice name," the other replied distractedly, giving the apple tree a sharp look.
The blond angel flinched, disconcerted. What a strange answer coming from a so-called enemy.
"Have we met before?" he heard himself ask. It wasn't what he had intended to say, but the question had sprung up instinctively.
Crawly turned his head toward him with a frown, scanning his face.
"No. I would have remembered you."
Aziraphale looked away, strangely disappointed as he himself did not recognize the demon. He would have had a hard time forgetting eyes like that.
"It was your voice that drew me in," Crawly continued, unconcerned by his confusion. "Weren't you supposed to be watching a door? To avoid that demons enter the Garden of Eden, for example."
Aziraphale blushed. He smoothed the front of his robe nervously, trying to regain some composure.
"I... Hmm. I didn't expect anyone to actually try to get through the door. I was checking to make sure there was no intrusion into the Garden itself."
"Sitting under a tree?" the demon asked, arching an ironic eyebrow.
Aziraphale stopped readjusting his garment and looked at him, feeling a very real - and guilty - annoyance rise to his nose.
"And can we know what you're supposed to do? Because if you're going to mess with anything alive in the Garden..." he said in a threatening voice, the sacred words on his forearms glowing with golden light.
Crawly raised both hands in front of him in a gesture of appeasement.
"No, no. I'm not going to attack anyone."
"Ah. Good."
Aziraphale calmed down immediately and the glow disappeared. They looked at each other. The angel definitely did not see him as a hostile adversary. On the contrary, he spoke to him very easily. So easily that it was almost strange. Aziraphale had a hunch that it wouldn't be the same with the other demons. He frowned. But what was different about this one? Crawly straightened up, cutting his thoughts short. He fluffed his wings and smoothed them briefly, frowning as his fingers brushed a broken feather. Then he looked up at Aziraphale.
"Right. I just wanted to put a face to the voice. I won't linger."
He waved his hand and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Aziraphale stood still for a few moments, staring at the spot where the demon had stood. Then he shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts, to hurry back to his post before anyone realized he was gone.
The two next day, as Aziraphale yawned in the morning light, he saw a small black head with slit eyes looking at him from among the tall grass. He immediately thought of the demon from last time. Suddenly fully awake, he tensed up. He had to go to him. But was it out of duty, in order to keep an eye on him, or because he wanted to? He didn't think about it for long. The snake disappeared behind a fern and Aziraphale leapt after it. In a few steps he reached the garden and dived into the vegetation, looking for a black spot. He pushed aside as best he could the low branches that whipped his face, going deeper and deeper into the trees. But the snake was gone. Standing next to a hydrangea laden with flowers, he was seized with a doubt that curved his shoulders a little. He must have seen an ordinary reptile. He was about to turn back when a voice rose from the trunk of the fragrant tree near which he had stopped.
"You are easy to tempt."
Aziraphale raised his head and met the mocking yellow gaze of Crawly, curled up in a low branch.
"Who says I didn't know what you were trying to lure me here?"
The snake wrapped itself around the branch so that it could lower its head to Aziraphale's face.
"It's not strictly speaking a lie, Crawly."
There was a moment of silence, during which the demon stared at Aziraphale. Then he turned away, slid from the branch to the trunk, went down the tree and disappeared on the other side. When he went around it again, he had returned to his original form.
"I'm surprised you remember my name."
"You told me only two days ago," the angel recalled. "And I have an excellent memory."
"Ah."
New silence. Aziraphale thoughtfully let his gaze fall on Crawly. He kept finding the situation incongruous, surprised that he was more at ease with this demon than with some angels. Without paying attention, his eyes plunged into those of the demon and were absorbed. He found them beautiful. His thoughts drifted, strangely bittersweet.
"But that's not your real name," he said after a moment.
The demon shrugged.
"It's the one I was given after the..."
He paused and his face tightened briefly.
"... When I became what I am. The other doesn't matter anymore."
Aziraphale squinted, interested. This was obviously a difficult subject for Crawly. Had he suffered? Did he regret it? His questions, incongruous but insistent, gripped his heart.
"How is it, Hell?" he finally asked, choosing to keep his questions to himself so as not to hurt Crawly.
"Warm. That's the least we can say," the demon replied sarcastically.
He took a few steps, his wings flapping behind his back. He stopped and looked up at the sky. His voice was neutral when he spoke again, but Aziraphale sensed his sadness.
"There is no light, no suns or stars. Only darkness, so thick that it feels like it will devour you if you stare too long."
There was a moment of painful silence. Then the demon turned around, a smile on his lips and a slightly too cheerful tone.
"... Which I'm sure is the case, by the way. Anyway. I came to clarify your role, my angel."
Without forgetting anything of what had just happened, Aziraphale resumed a concentrated and suspicious attitude.
"What do you mean by that?"
Crawly waved his hand, gesturing broadly at the Garden.
"We agree that the rules have changed for some time. You and your kind used to represent Good and we represented Evil. With capital letters, that is."
Aziraphale nodded.
"Yes, very good. But do we know exactly what we have to do against each other? Hm? On my side, I was not asked to jump at the throat of every angel I meet."
Thinking back to his own questions, Aziraphale could only shrug his shoulders in a gesture of weary incomprehension. Crawly seemed to know exactly what he was feeling.
"That's it," he said. "What did you get as an order?"
"Protect every life in the Garden."
"Okay. And I have to, quote: 'spice things up'. So if I don't hurt anyone or anything, normally, you... ?"
Aziraphale crossed his arms and thought for a moment.
"Just watching you from a distance, I guess."
Crawly slapped his open hand with his closed fist, looking relieved.
"That's what I was hoping for! We don't have to fight at all. Personally, I hate it. I don't know about you, but I've had my fill of fighting for centuries."
"Likewise. I have no desire to hurt you."
Aziraphale was so surprised to hear himself say this spontaneously that he hastened to add:
"Or anyone else!"
Crawly gave him a brief look of surprise and then continued.
"So this is what's going to happen. I do what I have to do under your watchful eye and everyone is happy. Is it a deal?"
The demon held out a thin hand. Aziraphale looked at it for a second, then looked up at his owner who was smiling at him with an engaging and perfectly innocent look. The angel was eager to make this deal with Crawly. He was also wary. Yet he took his hand and squeezed it. He had a hunch it was the right thing to do. His heart began to beat faster as his skin touched Crawly's. Uneasy, his chest suddenly tight, he let go of his hand and stepped back.
"It's a deal," he repeated, also smiling. Then he made a small noise of exasperation of the end of the lips by remembering his duty.
"I've deserted my post again!"
He turned away, took a few steps, then stopped. He smiled again at Crawly.
"I'm glad we don't have to fight."
Then he waved and left, the vegetation closing in behind him, leaving a more than pensive demon to follow him with his eyes.
They met almost every day that followed, always at Crawly's initiative. The atmosphere of quiet appreciation that had arisen spontaneously between them continued and settled. They didn't tell anyone about it, however, instinctively understanding that this kind of approach would be very badly seen by their respective sides. They were not embarrassed by it. It was just the way it was. They didn't know where it came from, but it was there.
They might as well enjoy it.
By the seventh day, a strong bond had formed between them, as strong as it had been quick to form.
When Crawly told him that he had tempted Eve and succeeded in getting her to swallow the apple of the Tree of Knowledge, Aziraphale merely saluted the performance without dwelling on it further. He was mostly annoyed by his own stupidity. They talked for a while, then it started to rain. Without thinking about it, the angel raised a wing to protect his companion, staying himself under the rain to look without seeing the drops becoming bigger and bigger. Then they separated.
And they were not to meet again for several decades.
Many things changed again. Aziraphale was punished. He was blamed for Adam's weakness and was condemned, along with the other three Guardians, to remain on Earth to guide the men, now a whole people, whom he had let go astray. The game of chess on an earthly scale then began in earnest. The angels trying to keep the humans on the right path, the demons trying to make them deviate. Who, the Creator or Lucifer, would win the game, thousands of years long? This Game so important, so necessary that it justified the sacrifice of so many small pawns...
Aziraphale and Crawly, who had become Crowley, met again. They acted in opposite directions, but that didn't stop them from getting along, from seeing each other and even from helping each other when necessary.
And the fact that everything had faded from their minds as if they had never loved each other, that they had changed so much themselves, that everything and everyone separated them did not prevent them from staying together.
So nothing could.
In fact, their bond was so strong that when the time came, they would not hesitate to betray their respective sides to prevent the Apocalypse.
Crowley would say that he was doing it because he loved those days too much, that Hell was very boring and that he couldn't possibly bring his Bentley and his plants down. And then what will they do for all eternity if they eradicate humanity and angels? They would be royally pissed off, yes!
Aziraphale would argue at length, a little embarrassed to disobey, but firm all the same, affirming that it was perfectly inadmissible to wage this war in the midst of humans who had not asked for anything after all and to whom they had caused so much harm over the centuries. And what a pity to leave behind such pleasant things as Racine's theater, tweed or pastries...
What they did not say, and could not even consciously formulate, was that the Apocalypse would sign, according to the winning side, the eternal disappearance of one of them.
And that was intolerable to them.
Crowley and Aziraphale were linked. Bonds formed by angels never disappear, even if the angels in question have changed - a lot.
Aziraphale and Crowley were sitting on the terrace of the St James' Park Cafe, in the golden light of a mild late autumn afternoon. The demon was sipping a coffee, pretending not to see the angel flaying his nun. The latter finally put down his spoon and let his gaze drift over the lake crossed by ducks. The silence between them was always comfortable, always warm.
However, Aziraphale crumpled it with a pensive voice.
"Crowley..."
"Hm?" he answered, looking over his glasses at a young man at a nearby table with some very interesting desires in mind.
"You never told me your name."
Rampa suddenly became interested in the conversation, turning his head towards the angel and crossing his arms.
"You just said it."
Aziraphale frowned, his cup halfway to his mouth. He put it back down with an annoyed look.
"Don't be obtuse. I was talking about your angel name."
"I'm not an angel anymore. What's the point?"
The more angelic of the two turned his cup in his hands, warming the chocolate with whipped cream in it again.
"Well, I always thought we knew each other before... Before you switched sides, let's say."
You never told me about it.
"It's just a guess, but I can't help but find it strange how we met in the Garden of Eden. Don't you think it was very quick?"
"Not really. I thought it was because of my charm," said Crowley, half-seriously, lighting the cigarette he had just taken out of his pocket with a gesture, half-smiling at the clearly reproving frowns of the customers who had seen him. Aziraphale laughed softly.
"It's an interesting idea, but I don't think it explains everything. I'm pretty sure if I knew your name, I'd remember you when you were an angel," he said.
"Like you've met them all! How many were we? Twenty million?" replied Crowley with a mocking look.
"Twenty million nine hundred and ninety-nine on the day of the Fall. And I called them all by their first names, yes."
The demon was speechless. There was a short silence.
"You're telling me that you... You held them all back?"
"Yes, I did! You seem to be surprised. I've always had a good memory. I must say that I saw most of them being born, and I also accompanied some of them myself. That's why I don't understand why you don't tell me anything. So my dear, if you could..."
Crowley pretended to ignore him, with a cigarette in his mouth. The angel just stared at him, smiling, looking as kind and affectionate as possible. After five minutes of awfully friendly looks, the demon snapped.
"Ramiel."
Aziraphale waited for the flash of recognition, but realized with great disappointment that nothing came to him. The name was completely foreign to him. Crowley read the sorrow on his face and sighed.
"Angel..."
Aziraphale cut him off, concern in his eyes.
"I don't understand, Crowley. I swear I could name you all, I knew every face, even every assignment. Why don't I remember you? What happened? I can't..."
"Aziraphale!"
It was so rare for Crowley to call him by name that it cut off the little anxiety attack that had gripped him. He raised his eyes and looked at the demon. The latter had thrown his cigarette towards the most uptight customer on the terrace and grabbed his spoon, perhaps with the intention of hitting his cup - or him - with it to bring him back to reality.
"Let's calm down. Whatever our relationship or what happened to us, we don't care, because we found each other, right?"
His phone vibrated in the breast pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled it out and consulted it out of the corner of his eye, finishing his coffee while scrolling through his messages, seeming to have closed the subject.
Aziraphale, him, had frozen.
Found? The angel stared thoughtfully at Crowley, who had a dangerous little smile on his lips and was answering a text message with impressive dexterity.
Aziraphale felt a soft warmth spread in his chest. He could almost feel the connection between them and it just made him happy. He looked away, a tender gleam in his eyes, and took a sip of chocolate, his questions put aside.
Yes, they had found each other again.