Chapter Text

Before the Beginning

It was a nice day, as all days in heaven were. “Heaven” itself had only recently become a distinct location, separated from this new concept everyone was calling “Hell,” where they were sending the fallen angels who dared to oppose God’s ineffable plan. It had been quite the to-do when the first batch were cast out, and since then countless numbers of angels had revealed themselves as allies of Lucifer and taken the plunge, as it were.

Really, there was a countable number, but the thought of eternal damnation was so unpleasant that the angel currently hurrying across Heaven couldn’t quite bring himself to whip out the divine abacus and sort it out. His snow white wings twitched excitably as he glanced down at the scroll in his hand. “Yes,” he murmured as he nearly tripped over his own feet in his eagerness, “this version will be much more comfortable.”

“Where’s the fire?” a voice came from his left. The angel slowed his walk and turned to see a fellow angel with fire-red hair sitting on a marble bench along the path. Heaven very much liked to build with marble; something about the “pearly” look.

“Oh, no fire,” the first angel said quickly. “I believe that gets invented on the fourth day, when God makes the sun.” He peered at the angel a bit more closely, noting his defined cheekbones and jaw, his bright eyes and expressive brow. “We’ve met, haven’t we? You were making a… oh, what did you call it?”

“A nebula,” the red-haired angel said with a smile that didn’t quite manage to look happy. “Yes, that’s where it started, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m afraid I’ve got a terrible memory for names…”

“Aziraphale,” the first angel supplied. “And I’m afraid I don’t know that I ever got yours.”

The red-haired angel waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably better if you didn’t at this point. Where are you off to, anyway?”

Aziraphale brightened up, which for angels is a quite literal action of increasing luminescence, and rushed over to the bench, opening his scroll to show his companion. “You see, I was permitted to take a peek at the plans for the humans — you know about the humans, of course — and I noticed a… well, I would never say a flaw, but I noticed that certain elements of the design for the female humans in particular seems rather uncomfortable. The species needs to reproduce, of course, in order to ‘multiply and replenish the earth’ as we like to say, but the current blueprints include a great deal of discomfort in that process on the part of the females.” He was increasingly animated as he spoke, gesturing so much with the scroll that the other angel couldn’t make out a word on it. He gave up trying and instead just watched Aziraphale with curiosity as he continued babbling on. “I think we could make it just a bit more efficient and enjoyable, especially the parts with all the blood. I’m sure they would appreciate a little less blood involved.”

“I’m sure they would,” his conversation partner graciously agreed. “I’d say the less unnecessary suffering, the better.”

“Of course, I understand that there has to be some suffering,” Aziraphale quickly added. “That’s part of the test. But I don’t think that monthly bleeding and painful childbirth will bring anyone too much closer to God, do you?”

The red-haired angel sighed, his wings drooping off the bench behind him. “‘Fraid I can’t really speak on what brings anyone closer to God at the moment. Asking questions doesn’t, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, yes, I think we’ll be encouraging the humans to have something called faith,” Aziraphale said, missing the change in the other angel’s posture. “Instead of asking questions, they shall just trust God and everything will work out for them in the end!”

The red-haired one leaned back on his bench to regard Aziraphale. “So if they have faith, they’ll live nice easy lives? They won’t be bleeding out their anuses every month?”

“That’s not where it —” Aziraphale shook his head. “They won’t always live easy lives, but they’ll always be rewarded when it’s over. That’s why we’re setting up that residential area on the west side. As long as they have faith and act justly, all the good humans will come here to Heaven when they die and live out eternity in peace and happiness!” He clasped his hands with a smile. “Oh, they’ll be so pleased.”

“But not until they’re dead?” his companion pressed. “I mean, if that’s how it’s going to be then what’s the point of even putting them on Earth at all? They’re living a whole life down there with the sole purpose of coming here when it’s done? You’re basically saying that all the stuff that happens down there doesn’t even matter!”

“Of course it matters!” Aziraphale insisted. “That’s what determines whether they get to come up here afterward, or go… well, you know.”

The other angel’s expression turned stony. “Yes, I know.”

Aziraphale tapped his shoulder with the scroll. “But not to worry, I am confident that the vast majority will do the right thing and end up in Heaven.”

“And the ones that don’t?”

Aziraphale sighed. He didn’t like thinking about that part. “Well, they will have made their choice, and God loves them anyway.”

“Hmm.” The red-haired angel looked at him. “What do you think love means, if it’s tied to punishment? You wouldn’t want to hurt someone you love, would you?”

Aziraphale’s wings fluttered with discomfort. “Of course not, but perhaps sometimes it would be necessary for the greater good, or the Great Plan. In any case, everything will get worked out for the best.”

The other angel looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder, then stood up from the bench. “I guess we’ll see.” For the first time Aziraphale caught a glimpse of something shiny gleaming at his feet. Was he shackled to the bench? No, that couldn’t be right. 

Someone cleared their throat behind Aziraphale and he jumped as he saw the archangel Michael standing uncomfortably close. “Oh, Michael!” he exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest. “You startled me. Can I help you with something?” Michael had always been rather intimidating and not as kind as Aziraphale might have preferred, but he was sure that her no-nonsense attitude was serving a crucial function in the divine plan.

Michael completely ignored Aziraphale to look at the red-haired angel standing across from them. “Ready?” she asked him.

He raised an eyebrow. “And if I said no?”

“Asking is a formality. Whether you’re ready or not, it’s time.” Michael unrolled a scroll of her own, which shone with an intense gold light. Aziraphale frowned. That couldn’t be…

“You are hereby sentenced to exile to Hell,” Michael read. “You shall be cast out of Heaven and join the ranks of Satan’s demons.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Aziraphale gasped. “That can’t be right. This angel is… he’s… one of us.” He was kind to me, Aziraphale added in his mind. He cares about the humans. He’s good. Isn’t he?

The red-haired angel clicked his tongue. “No, no, apparently I am one of them now. Why don’t you tell him what I did, Michael? Why don’t you read me my crimes?”

Michael rolled up her scroll. “Your crimes don’t bear repeating. Now —”

“I asked a question,” the falling angel interrupted her. “I asked—”

“Don’t say it,” Michael interrupted, but he didn’t stop.

“I asked God why They would make humans and then punish them for being human. I asked why, if They can do anything imaginable, They would limit themselves and everyone else to a short-term, punitive trial run of a planet full of people doomed to make mistakes they can’t help themselves from making.” His voice was shaking with emotion as he concluded, “I asked God why.” 

Aziraphale stared at the entity in front of him, on the verge of being an angel no more, and felt his stomach sinking. The question was blasphemy, as good as the intentions may have been. And most importantly, God wouldn’t cast someone out of Heaven if it wasn’t the right thing to do. If this angel was being exiled, it had to be deserved, because otherwise that would mean that God Herself was making an error, which was obviously impossible. 

The pit in his stomach remained, but his breath grew a bit easier as he organized the information before him in his mind. This person, although pleasant to talk to, was a fallen angel and was being treated accordingly. All was as it should be. Even though it certainly didn’t feel like it should be this way.

“And for that crime,” Michael said, pointing the rolled up scroll at the shackled traitor, “I cast you out, foul demon.”

Aziraphale thought about saying something encouraging, telling the poor soul to keep his head up and not despair, but from what he’d heard, Hell was oozing with despair. They practically used it as wallpaper. So, instead, he just stared as the heavenly ground opened up beneath the now-exiled angel and he plunged from the sky, falling through infinity to the depths below. As he plummeted, his white wings began to dull, then to grey, then to turn jet black at the same time that his crisp white robes turned to dark rags.

Hell of a view, the falling angel thought as he saw all of Creation spread out beneath him, then he crashed with incredible pain into the bottom of the bottomless pit.

Above, Aziraphale stared at the hole through which the other angel — no, the demon — had disappeared. His scroll of design edits fell from his limp hand and he heard Michael walk away, off to complete her next banishment. Alone, Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture the thoughtful, curious face that had stared so intently into his own. He rebelled against God, he reminded himself. This had to happen. But somehow he found his mind going to the nebula the other angel had made. A star factory, he’d called it. It had been so beautiful.

Opening his eyes again to look through the slowly closing hole at the long, long way down, Aziraphale almost said it. He very nearly whispered the question he had never before considered and would not allow himself to speak for many millenia yet. But he closed his mouth without a sound, swallowing the single nagging syllable that he wished he could cast from his mind as easily as Michael had cast the new demon from Heaven. That terrifying, compelling, desperate why.