Chapter Text
When the almost-apocalypse was over, everything was back to normal. Well, almost. Aziraphale's shop was filled with books and all kinds of knick-knacks once more, and Crowley had his beloved Bentley back.
There was only one thing that had changed. There was one particular item that burned with the shop and that the angel would probably never see again.
Back when he had still been in heaven and obliviously thought everything that came out of Gabriel's mouth was correct, he still didn't have any friends. Aziraphale scoffed even thinking about how he once considered him a friend as well. He was a respected angel. Not that high in the hierarchy, even though he was later chosen to guard the Garden of Eden.
More often than not, the angel had actually felt pretty lonely. He watched the others idly chatting with each other and sometimes even laughing. Most of them had only spoken to him when necessary.
Then one day, something particular odd happened. He had just gotten out of an especially tiresome meeting with Gabriel when he had spotted it. It had been a gift, a beautiful piece of wood carved into the form of a feather, not unsimilar to his own.
It had been made with so much detail that it could have been real if not for the utmost stillness of it.
Aziraphale had been absolutely awed. No one had ever given him anything as a gift before, and especially never such an artful one.
Day after day he would try to find out who the craftsperson of such skillful art was, but to no avail. Eventually, he almost had forgotten about it if he hadn’t found another gift after an unpleasant day. This time it had been a wooden flower. It had clearly been crafted by the same person and had been just as beautiful as the feather had been.
From there on, the angel could make out some kind of pattern. Every time something upsetting or saddening had occurred to him, a new hand-crafted gift would appear. At first, he did have the most absurd thought that maybe God herself was gifting him with them to lift his mood. But a far more likely theory of his was that he had been watched.
One of the other angels must have been watching him. Only this way they could know when he would have needed to be cheered up. It should have made him feel creeped out or uneasy. Instead, it made him feel, against all reasoning, warm. Someone, even if he didn’t know who, had been caring about him.
Then suddenly it stopped. Aziraphale remembered the cold feeling inside him vividly when the time spans between the appearances had grown longer and longer. It had taken him the whole garden of Eden situation to truly get over it. At least he did have the items to hold onto after all.