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It was a nice day.
All the days had been nice, and wow, wasn’t that an accomplishment, given the recent, well. Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what to call it, it was all so new. One day everyone had been working towards the Great Plan, with Gabriel - not at the head, no. More of a facilitator, making sure everything was on schedule, that everyone knew their part in the Plan and had what they needed to get it done.
And then suddenly Lucifer — one of the lead architects! — had turned up with questions. Not what do I do next? but why? And next thing you know all sorts of new things were happening that were definitely not in the Plan. Questions. Defiance. Fighting! A whole new order of angels had been created — Principalities — and of course the new positions had to be staffed, so suddenly some of the Cherubim were promoted - demoted? he wasn’t sure; of course every angel had a task, and a position that defined it, but nobody had tried to fit that into a hierarchy before - and given the skills needed to lead platoons.
It made a terrible mess of the whole project, much to Gabriel’s frustration - he’d enjoyed making sure everything ran smoothly. But not nearly as much of a mess as when the defeated angels hadn’t been forgiven, they’d been banished. And, so he’d heard, transformed. And so many of them had been architects and inventors…
But Gabriel had been created to be an administrator, no matter how chaotic the situation, and he’d made it work. The Great Plan was back on track, even with the staffing shortage. The little garden, prototype and nursery for everything the angelic host had worked so tirelessly to create, that would someday cover the whole Earth. The humans, oddly intriguing variations on the angelic model. The angelic corporations, similar to the human bodies, but built to last, unlike the ephemeral humans.
Gabriel was wearing one now, for the only the second time ever. The first, of course, had been the final step in phase one of the garden, which he’d been privileged to attend: the creation — no, birth — of the second human, which marked the end of the creation phase. From now on, the inhabitants of the garden were expected to “go forth and multiply” - well, the humans couldn’t go forth quite yet, not while there was still an outside threat. Gabriel wasn’t quite sure about the multiply part either. It had all been rather confusing, and there had been something to do with ribs. Which, ew.
He had no intention of being seen by the humans, of course, but it wouldn’t do for a misadventure to screw up the plans now. His true form, he’d been told, would be far too frightening for them to experience. He’d only come down to encourage the angels he’d set to guard it - each one of them a skilled Principality who had risen to the occasion and been especially effective in leading their platoons into battle. Gabriel trusted them implicitly.
There was one of them now. “Aziraphale!” he said brightly. “How goes it? Any sign of the enemy?”
The guardian’s worried frown turned into a smile at Gabriel’s appearance. “Oh! No, it’s been terribly quiet here.”
“Good, good,” Gabriel said, looking down at the garden. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to look over the wall. “I suppose? Haven’t really had time to look at it, and, um, I’m not even sure what everything is?”
“Oh! Well, take a look! I’ll keep an eye out for the enemy for you - an eye, get it?” he chuckled, as he manifested one of his many eyes behind him - the humans shouldn’t be able to see that.
Aziraphale turned around, not without one more cautious look out at the - desert, yes, that’s what it was. “It’s very, um, green.”
Gabriel beamed. He was rather proud of knowing this part. “The green things are plants, and the ones that move are animals - there’s two of each kind, not sure why when we were so busy and could’ve saved some time by making just one, but the engineers insisted. Supposed to be one — or, well, two — of every kind in there. You wouldn’t believe how much work went into the dimensional folding to make everything fit.”
Aziraphale nodded. “It’s all very impressive. Ah, good job, team!” he said brightly.
“I know, right? But we’re not done yet! I’m relying on the four of you to keep it safe. Hate to see anything go wrong after all that work, right? One good shot and the whole Plan is -” he waved his hands “- ppft.” Ooh, and wasn’t that interesting, his corporation had generated a noise that conveyed more meaning than a large number of words would. Of course that meant Aziraphale was giving him an odd look, but he did seem to understand what he meant.
“I know,” Aziraphale said, fidgeting. “It’s all so small and vulnerable, and I do worry so.”
Gabriel felt the urge to make a reassuring gesture, but wasn’t quite sure how that worked with corporations. “You’ll do fine! Your platoons are ready to appear the instant one of you sends the signal.”
Aziraphale nodded and looked down at the garden. His smile softened to a fond look. “It is so very pretty,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to it.”
“Of course you wont! I know I can rely on you, and that you’re eager to get back to your job, so I’ll just get out of your way.” He clapped his hand firmly on Aziraphale’s corporation - shoulder, yes. Gosh, that was much more satisfying than he’d expected!
“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said, turning back to the desert. “You can rely on me.”
It was definitely not a nice day.
The Fallen hadn’t come in force; they’d sent a single one of their own to tempt the humans into disobedience. God Herself, who’d been hands-off ever since She’d banished the Fallen (and Gabriel was not going to speculate about that, absolutely not), had banished the humans as well - but only to the outside of the garden. Never mind that it put them in a world that wasn’t ready for them, leaving the angels on the environmental teams working frantically to get something out there to keep them alive. Gabriel barely had the time to glance out the window at the view of the garden, now covered with clouds and rain - which hadn’t even been scheduled to be deployed for months.
He sighed and set aside the complaints from all the disrupted departments, and went back to the garden invasion incident report. Reading through the lines of excuses, he came to the conclusion that the main problem was that nobody had realized that the angel responsible for the dimensional folding was now one of the Fallen. The head of that department had promised that every gap would be fixed soon, as if that even mattered anymore. As if locking the - barn door? - seriously, he wondered where words came from sometimes - would do any good after the damage had been done.
And now the Metatron, as if the day couldn’t get any worse. Gabriel moved his mouth into the shape of a smile. It wasn’t a real smile - those happened by themselves, and involved the entire face. And had been decidedly rare of late. But fake ones? Surprisingly useful.
Especially now. “Metatron! What can I do for you today?”
The Metatron smiled indulgently, though Gabriel suspected it was as exquisitely crafted as his own. “Shouldn’t you be asking what you can do for Her?”
“Usually She speaks to me directly.” He cocked his head just the slightest bit, not enough to be a challenge, but just enough to hint that there might be one.
“Ah, yes. Well, things are changing, now that the humans are starting to spread over the Earth. Got to keep the Great Plan moving, you know!”
“I thought it was supposed to be hands off.”
“That was before the unfortunate interference. Now it’s going to need the occasional nudge to keep things going properly, and you have been chosen for that very important task, Supreme Archangel Gabriel. Oh yes,” he continued, at Gabriel’s puzzled frown. “There are great changes coming. A new hierarchy where every angel knows their precise place in the Great Plan, to avoid any further disruptions. And you will be at the head of them all.”
Gabriel pushed his face back into a smile as a cover while he processed the new information. Of course he didn’t want any other angels to Fall, and of course they’d needed to establish a hierarchy during the War, but he’d always considered that a temporary thing. And even then there hadn’t been any - what was it, Supreme Archangel? There were different orders, of course, with their own specialized tasks, but an archangel was just an angel with a bit more responsibility than the others.
He wanted to ask why the changes, or even why they came through the Metatron instead of from Her, but after all, hadn’t all of this started because of questions like that? So he made the smile just a little bit bigger. “I see. And if I need any further, ah, clarification,” not questions, definitely not, “I should go through you?”
“Of course. She trusts us to get the Great Plan back on schedule without needing to bother Her with any little details.”
Of course.
Ew, ribs. Aziraphale had been here far too long if he was that nonchalant about it, just leaping in to help Job and the other humans produce their new children.
“Don't worry,” Gabriel reassured the other angels, “It's all part of the process. I've seen this before.”
He was not, absolutely not, upset. He was totally happy to be explaining to a mere human that congrats, you win Most Virtuous and Loyal Human, here’s your prize, now shut up and enjoy your new children. Even if the rib thing was still a bit ew.
Not that he had any problem with the bet itself, oh no. She’s God, after all. She can do whatever She wants. Making bets with the Great Adversary? Fine.
But — talking directly to the human? Not to him? Supreme Archangel, right? Made sure everything got back on track after major disruptions? You’d think that if anyone was actually going to get to hear Her voice directly, it would be him. And his reward for that would be something better than running around delivering messages to humans.
But he was a good angel. Complaints? Not him, absolutely not. So he pushed it all down and smiled.
“OK, but you know I’m a virgin, right? And definitely intend to stay that way. So how is this supposed to work?”
Gabriel couldn’t keep the confusion off his face. “Not seeing the problem here?” He’d just explained it all - conceive, give birth, blah blah blah. Normally humans just cowered in acceptance, so what was up with this one with all the questions?
Hmm… weren’t there some extra notes on that message? Ah, yes. “‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God.’ There. That should do it.”
She didn’t seem impressed.
“That thing you’re doing with your face,” he said. His hand couldn’t decide whether he should be pointing at her or not. “Scrunching it up… you’re thinking, right?”
Ah, and that was a look he’d seen quite frequently, usually from Saraqael but also from Michael.
“My kid will be the Son of God,” she said flatly.
“Yep!” And then added “All part of God’s Great Plan,” because she didn’t seem convinced.
“Great Plan, huh? That means - he’d have the power to help our people? Tear down the rich and mighty, raise up the humble, set things right?”
The what now? “Whatever he wants to do.” That was right, wasn't it? Yeah. It had to be.
She paused for a long moment and did that little face-wrinkle again. Humans. So unpredictable. All that ‘free will’ stuff. “All right, I’ll do it.”
Gabriel just barely stopped himself from saying “You will?” Not very archangelic of him, when he’d finally got the job done.
Right. He was so out of here.
“That’s supposed to be me?” Gabriel cocked his head, frowning at the array of images spread out before him. All statues, all supposedly representing - well, him. “Not seeing the resemblance.” How many times had he popped down to Earth to bestow a heavenly message on some unworthy human, and they couldn’t even get that right? “And what’s with the horn?” Practically every statue had one.
The Metatron smiled indulgently - in person, of course, because Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel, and if he couldn’t talk directly to Her, at least he did get the Metatron’s undivided attention. “Ah, well. The humans have some… stories, about what your role in the End Times will be.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Lead the armies to the battlefield, wait for the Antichrist to kick off the next Great War, and finally finish what we started. Duh.”
And that was what he wanted, right? No more dashing down to deliver messages to foolish humans who, with rare exceptions, were too awe-struck to even realize how blessed they were just to be in his presence. No more meetings with the Metatron going on long past the point where they’d discussed everything important because there was one more silly human thing he felt Gabriel just had to see. Speaking of - “And no horns.”
“Unless they received some divine inspiration, how would they know? But that would be a frivolous use of a miracle, of course.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Gabriel said, with a smile that implied he would never be so foolish.
But seriously. If humans were going to make statues of him, shouldn’t they be accurate? It wasn’t as if anyone was going to judge him on how he used miracles.
And there would absolutely not be a horn.
One second he’s on his way out of Heaven, putting everything that is him into his first and only gift, Beelzebub’s fly, as quickly as he can before anyone else gets into his head, and the next he’s in Aziraphale’s bookshop, several days’ worth of memories colliding chaotically with all eternity. And it doesn’t all come back in order, oh no. Jim’s obsessive need to reorganize the bookstore is tangled with a newly formed Gabriel’s delight in organizing all the parts of the Eden project. Crowley’s protective anger blurs into a starmaker’s anguished cry of only 6000 years? That’s nothing! A talented designer shows off their newest project by transforming their angelic nimbus of eyes and wings into a brightly colored cloud of beetles and butterflies. Which then shrivel into a swarm of flies that coalesce into an angry Beelzebub, united with Gabriel against a disobedient Antichrist.
He pulls on the last image, using it to focus in on the even more recent ones, the ones that hopefully will explain what caused all the problems in the first place. Armageddon, check. Insolent Antichrist, check.
Bonding with Beelzebub over having to explain to disappointed legions of angels and demons that no, there’s not going to be a final Great War…?
Check.
The memories come faster. Meeting in a pub. Agreeing to not have another Armageddon. Sharing the statue - the one result of all his trips to Earth that is actually his. And the fly - his first gift ever, and oh so precious, even before it saves his life.
The memories of Jim now slot themselves into their proper place, and one thing becomes clear: ever since the Great War, the only memories that make him happy are the ones that have Beelzebub in them. How did he ever fall so far away from the joy he’d felt at the dawn of Creation?
He’s not going back. Not ever. And it’s very obvious that Beelzebub feels the same.
“You know, Alpha Centauri's nice.”