Chapter Text
Ever since the nebula Aziraphale often found himself thinking back to that moment. It hadn’t been that remarkable a moment but still seemed so momentous, so important now thinking back to it. He couldn’t explain why. The nebula had certainly been magnificent but that couldn’t be it. Besides he found he thought of that other angel and not actually the nebula. Maybe it was because it had been the first connection to another being that had not simply been functional. They had spoken, although there had been no need to exchange information. They had shared thoughts and even opinions. Something that seemed unthinkable with the other angels.
Aziraphale often thought of the smile on that red haired angel’s face and his unfettered joy. And how he had spoiled it, how his smile had turned into more of a frown. Just because of something he had said. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him that the archangels and the Metatron had been discussing the runtime of the universe as it were. They had been very adamant that it needed to have a defined end. He didn’t understand why but he knew it wasn’t his place to ask such questions. He was there to serve. They had been very adamant about that as well.
He hoped the other one hadn’t gotten into trouble. He hadn’t seen him since then. Didn’t even know his name because he had never offered it. Sometimes Aziraphale traveled out into space just for some reprieve of feeling watched and judged. To see something that wasn’t just… white. And because he hoped to meet that other angel again but he never did.
He had recently been given a flaming sword. By God herself! She had plans of making him a guardian of Eden once they started Earth up. She had talked to him directly - a great honor - and he had felt Her light upon him. Warm and comforting. She had told him She was pleased with him and that he would be an integral part of Her plans. He didn’t know what that meant truly but he had been happy. Of course. She only occasionally spoke to any angels other than the Metatron directly. Only for special occasions. And he had been surprised, considering how the archangels would usually simply disregard him - on good days. The Metatron had ordered him to have the sword on him at all times and to practice with it. He had said something about trouble brewing, which Aziraphale again hadn’t understood. He hadn’t received an explanation either. The Metatron had better things to do than to explain his duties to him and he shouldn’t need a reason to fulfill them. The archangels had been very adamant about that as well.
Currently Aziraphale was simply accompanying a scribe who was carrying important reports to the archives and ‘keeping an eye open for suspicious behavior’. He wasn’t sure what ‘suspicious’ meant either or why anyone would be acting such-like. Neither did he know why it would need two angels to carry these reports to the archives. Especially since he wasn’t carrying anything himself. Or what was in these reports that were so important. But he did know not to ask again. Or at least not to ask his superiors again.
“Do you know why we need to deliver these together?” Aziraphale asked the scribe whose name he didn’t know.
“No. I would assume if I needed to know, my superiors would have told me,” came the expected answer. Well, maybe he was the only curious angel. Him and the red headed angel from the nebula… Was it wrong to be curious? It wasn’t the first time he wondered.
“Shall I help you carry some of those files then? Would be easier if we shared the load.” Aziraphale did feel a bit ridiculous just walking next to the scribe without helping.
“No. Carrying these files is my task to fulfill. But thank you for offering.”
Again he hadn’t really expected a different answer. At least they would reach the archive soon. He suspected. The hallways in heaven weren’t always easy to navigate. Everything was white and looked the same.
But now there was something… unusual. There seemed to be a commotion up ahead. Aziraphale could hear raised voices and other noises that sounded oddly like the practice session with the sword… He didn’t know if this warranted as suspicious behavior but he did feel a certain sense of trepidation.
“Stay behind me”, he told the scribe and hastened his steps to get ahead. As he neared the commotion he grew more certain that what he had heard had indeed been sounds of fighting. And he could see angels fighting against each other! The attackers had the upper hand, beating the defenders with brutality, not minding those that go down at all, other than to maybe kick the one’s who’d been downed for good measure. Aziraphale was so stupefied by what he saw that he froze until the scribe had caught up to him.
“Get the files off the scribe! We need to gather as many as we can if we want to take control!” one of the attacking angels screamed in his direction and before he knew there was a group of seven angels rushing him. Some with weapons, some without. Beyond them all he could see were the forms of angels on the ground - wounded or worse, he didn’t know. All he could do was react, he had a task to fulfill. So he lifted his sword to protect the scribe who screamed in fear next to him.
He may not enjoy fighting or hurting anyone but he would defend those put in his care with all of his might! And so he met the attackers with a ferocity that made them hesitate. He pummeled their hands with the hilt of his sword to disarm them and kicked them in the knees to make them stumble. But they soon regained their advantage. They didn’t give up. They simply got up off the ground, picked up their weapons and came at him again. And then they were encircling him, beginning to coordinate their attacks and Aziraphale felt fear.
He wouldn’t last long like this. Would end up like those angels on the ground. He heard the scribe cry out and felt something, possibly the scribe, bump against him. But he couldn’t look, couldn’t take his eyes away from the attackers at his front. This was it. He had to get serious here and strike true, strike to wound. With his growing determination he felt the heat of his flaming sword grow stronger on his face.
He feigned an attack at the one in front of him but turned in the last moment to slash across the abdomen of attacker on his right. That one clutched his wound and fell back, ethereal essence seeping through his fingers. But Aziraphale was already kicking an angel at his left who had just come to attack him, while slashing across the shoulder and chest of another one on to the right of the first wounded. He felt something pierce his back but couldn’t think about it. Only a little bit more room and they could escape.
The he had just kicked made it easy for him. Came at him with abandon, all Aziraphale had to do was lift his sword and his attacker impaled himself on it due to his momentum. Another kick freed his blade and the angel fell to the floor.
Aziraphale turned and saw that the scribe was hurt but still standing. Good.
“Run on to the archive. I’ll be behind you!” Aziraphale pushed the scribe into motion toward the archive - he hoped. That seemed to shake the scribe out of his fear and he ran on with Aziraphale true to his word following close behind. He could hear the remaining attackers following close on their heels. But he couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about the ones he had left hurt. He might have to hurt more. The thought sickened him, made his chest hurt and almost let him stumble and fall. He lifted his head firmly and grabbed the hilt of his a little tighter. He couldn’t think about that now. He had a task to fulfill, someone to protect.
“What’s going on? Why are they attacking? What do they want with the files?” the scribe asked him, his voice shaky. He turned his head to glance behind and whimpered.
“I don’t know. And this is not the time to wonder about that. We need to get you to safety!”
“And the files!”
“Yes, those as well. Now stop glancing behind and run faster!” Aziraphale huffed in exasperation and pushed the scribe ahead again.
Surely the files couldn’t be more important than the scribe's existence? Could an angel even be destroyed by a heavenly sword? Or at all? He didn’t know but he wasn’t keen on finding out either.
Suddenly someone grabbed his sword arm from behind, trying to make him fall by kicking his legs out from under him. But Aziraphale quickly stepped aside and punched him in the face with his left. The grip loosened and Aziraphale shoved his right shoulder into the stunned angel with all the force he could muster. He fell back, right into his comrades making them fall and buying Aziraphale the seconds he needed to run on after the scribe.
The attackers didn’t relent. Didn’t give in. He wounded more of those coming after him, though everything seemed a rush and too much to take in. He could simply react and fulfill his duty. He didn’t know the names of the ones that were attacking them, of the ones he had cut down and left behind. But he had seen some of them before. And he feared the guilt he felt for hurting them would stay with him a long time.
They finally reached the archive. He pushed the scribe inside, to get him and the files to safety. A score of other angels were already guarding the entrance and quickly taking care of their pursuers. They told him the main battle was going on toward the gates to the Metatron’s office. Lucifer was rebelling and wanted to take his place, maybe even God’s place for himself! Unthinkable!
So he ran on to help defend God against the usurpers. Against his own siblings! He was still reeling and had a hard time wrapping his head around this. And still everything was happening so fast he hardly found the time for a single clear thought, so he couldn’t even begin to deal with it. And whenever he did have a thought they surprisingly turned to the red haired angel. He wondered where he might be. If he was safe. If he was unharmed.
And that’s when he found him. Clearly as surprised and out of his wits as Aziraphale himself was. But among the attacking host. Why was he with them? Clearly he couldn’t want to fight against God? Asking questions was one thing, but openly rebel against God?
But the other angel seemed to stay back, never attacking himself, only defending when he had to. And he seemed to try and get any of those wounded or fallen to safety. Any angels. So was he simply caught in this landslide? Oh, he hoped that was true. He didn’t think he could bear it if it wasn’t.
And then suddenly there was the Archangel Micheal and she led the defending angels against their attacking brethren. As they were rushing into their ranks swords at the ready, Aziraphale couldn’t help but to seek out the red haired one.
When he finally managed to draw near to him the other looked up in surprise hands up to signal he wasn’t going to attack. “Oh, hey! It’s you. Aziraphale, wasn’t it?”
It took Aziraphale a moment to find an answer for him. If he had ever had any notion of how this conversation would begin, this was certainly not it.
“Yes, but never mind that. What are you doing?!”
“I’m not sure, really. One moment I was just listening to what Lucifer and his friends had to say and the next they were suddenly attacking any angels who’d ever voiced a different opinion, getting weapons from somewhere and storming toward the offices and the gate and I had somehow been caught in their wake. Mostly I’m just trying to make it look to them like I’m doing something.” He said pointing at the attackers. “Seemed healthier,” he shrugged and studied Aziraphale more closely.
“You look like you’ve been through a lot yourself. Oh!” The other touched Aziraphale’s back and he could feel a sharp pain in his back. “You’re hurt! Wait a moment…”
Aziraphale could feel warmth spreading over his back and the discomfort vanished. The red haired angel gazed back at him with a bright smile on his face. “There, all better.”
Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief and grabbed his arm.
“Thank you but there is no time for this! You need to get out of their ranks before you’re captured! With the Archangel Micheal joining the defenders it can’t be long until they are all caught or cut down. Get yourself to safety! I don’t know what the consequences of this rebellion will be but they will be terrible. They say Lucifer wants to take God’s place!” Aziraphale yelled, trying to get the angel to listen to him just this once and maybe save him.
“What? No, but that’s - that’s nonsense! Lucifer is unhappy with how Heaven is run, is all! He’s not trying to topple God - if that can even be done!” For a moment he seemed uncertain. “At least that’s what he claimed.” The other angel looked up to where Micheal fought Lucifer himself and seemed to gain the upper hand. “Not sure but it might already be too late either way…”
“Don’t worry about that now and just get to the injured and help! Maybe they’ll see you weren’t rebelling, that you were only helping the ones who had been hurt. Maybe they’ll be lenient, show mercy! Maybe - “
The other angel stopped him with a somber smile. “You really believe that? When have you ever known their lot to be lenient? Or forgiving for that matter?” But then he sighed, grabbed Aziraphales shoulder and squeezed it, before he did as Aziraphale had asked him anyway.
Soon after the battle was over. Lucifer had been captured as had his followers. Many had been terribly injured. He never did find out if any had been destroyed and the actual numbers and names of the attackers were kept secret. Need-to-know basis was the word from the top and apparently he didn’t need to know. There was going to be a trial it seemed.
But among those captured and dragged away in chains he had seen the other angel, his fiery red hair covering his face and head bowed.