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Aziraphale sat, sunlight sparkling on the sea below him. He did not shed the tears that stung his eyes, but he couldn’t keep his lower lip from trembling as he spent his last few moments as an angel.
He had lied to thwart the will of God. Deep down, he believed he had done the right thing by saving the children; but angels were supposed to be obedient and ensure that God’s plan prevailed. He may have fooled Gabriel and the others, but God knew. And She was going to cast him out, just as She’d cast out the angels who had joined Lucifer’s rebellion.
The knowledge that he was going to make a terrible demon only added to his anxiety over his transgressions. Would he have to unlearn all his angelic habits? Or would he instinctively know how to be evil? Would he be assigned to some pit of despair, spending eternity torturing the souls he could no longer save? Perhaps he’d take delight in it. Or would enough of him remain after his unmaking and demonic rebirth that he’d find it distasteful? Would he remember Heaven? Would he remember the joy of being an angel? Or would the memories he now considered precious become as unsavory as stepping in a steaming pile of ox dung?
He took a deep, shuddery breath, and looked down at his clasped hands. Who was he to argue with God? He was a mere principality, a former Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Absolute hubris on his part, to think that he knew better than She did. True, he had spent more time with the humans; he had a bit more first hand knowledge of how they actually worked and behaved and reacted to things. Not that God didn’t know those things! She was God after all, and rather on the omniscient side. But Aziraphale’s knowledge was more–
And it’s that sort of thinking that got me into trouble in the first place! he angrily berated himself. Just because I might understand WHY this was a terrible idea, does not mean I have the right to undermine the Almighty.
He blinked back a tear, wishing the bright sun could bring light to the darkness clouding his soul. Everything he had ever believed, everything that made him who he was, it was all gone now. Completely undone by his own actions. All he had had to do was admit that those were not new children sprung forth by one of God’s miracles.
And condemn those children to death.
And subject himself to punishment or exile for collaborating with a demon.
And who knew what would happen to Crawley if it was discovered that he hadn’t actually killed anything belonging to Job.
But Aziraphale couldn’t do that. They were spoiled, entitled little trolls, but they didn’t deserve to die because of a stupid bet. And he wouldn’t condemn them just to save his own existence in the light. He would miss his angelhood; it was all he had known since time began. But he couldn’t reconcile the fact that he had been expected to stand by and watch silently as three innocent lives were destroyed. He believed his true purpose was saving souls and leading them to the light, not to death. If murder was wrong, why did it suddenly become acceptable when God and Satan made a bet? Why were God and Satan even making such bets? Weren’t they supposed to be passive, while their representatives worked their will on Earth?
It was these questions and doubts that convinced the angel that he was well and truly fallen, an angel no more.
A soft sound and the flutter of something dark drew him out of his introspection. He looked up and saw Crawley drawing near.
“Ah. Yes, I thought perhaps they might send you.” With a tremulous sigh, he stood up, accepting his bleak fate with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. “Well... I'm ready to go.”