Why you?

“So why you?”

After a few seconds of silence Aziraphale noticed that obviously an answer was expected from him. Too bad he had not heard the question. It happened sometimes when he was with Crowley. The demon’s presence gave him a warm feeling of security and familiarity. His friend was like a cozy fire crackling in an old fashioned stove and like a lazy cat curled in front of it, Aziraphale drifted off now and then.

“Excuse me, my dear,” he said, blushing. “It seems I was far away.”

Fortunately, Crowley did not seem to be upset with him. He just raised an eyebrow and grinned that mischievous grin that never failed to cause Aziraphale’s unnecessary breathing to hitch.

“Is that so, Angel?” he smiled with a fond expression. “Somewhere interesting?”

“My mind was rather blank, I’m afraid.”

“That’s possible?” Crowley teased.

“Quite,” Aziraphale nodded. “What was your question?”

“I asked why you of all people were sent to guard the Eastern Gate.”

“What is that supposed to mean, my dear, ‘me of all people’?” the angel asked, getting the feeling he should be offended.

“I mean, you’re sweet, cute, pretty and kindhearted.” Aziraphale felt his face heat up at that. “You love to read and write and think and… all that stuff,” Crowley went on. “That’s great but not exactly the attitude of a fierce warrior.”

Aziraphale sighed. He did not like to remember that day. But now he could not help the memory crawling into his mind.

*

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. As always the bright marble walls of the long hallway reflected the warm comforting holy light that pulsated from Heaven’s center, painting the angels’ home in an array of silver and white. Yet… Something seemed off. It was bright, of course it was, it was Heaven after all. And still, it was less bright somehow. Everybody seemed… tense. Maybe he was imagining things. 

But even the Archangels had been in a weird mood lately. Usually an unbreakable union they seemed – it was almost absurd even thinking about it – at odds with each other. They always spoke quietly among each other, discussing the things the other angels had no business knowing about. But recently their whispers were often hisses not delivered with the usual neutral expression but outwardly angry looks. And even when they did not speak, the harmony normally surrounding them was disturbed.  Especially Michael and Lucifer cast each other disapproving glances or did not look at each other at all. Right now, they were not in sight, but not long ago Aziraphale had seen the redhead and the black-haired eldest staring at each other with open anger. Silver meeting blue as they challenging narrowed their eyes. Lucifer’s mouth shaped to a snarl, Michael’s lips pressed to a thin line. A sight that was uncanny as it was unusual.

Trying to recall when it had started was hard since the idea of “Time” was relatively new. God had all of a sudden introduced the angels to the concepts of before and after, now and then. That was a lot to get used to, especially since not all of them had gotten used these “bodies” they now had. God wanted them to wear them because SHE was so fond of HER newest creation: Humans. There were only two of them at the moment, but they had potential God said. And like the lesser creatures before they also had bodies. The human body was a confusing composition of design compromises, but SHE wanted the angels to have them and nobody protested. At least not openly.

The angels’ bodies for now were nothing more than another shape of the energy they were made of, but it altered their appearance and the distinction between them was no longer limited to rank and role. Aziraphale quite liked it, but he knew that not everybody did. 

Maybe the Archangels were still adjusting to the recent changes. It was of quite possible that all this was harmless and Aziraphale was reading too much into it. And typical for him he could not stop overthinking and before he knew it, it occupied his whole mind and he started seeing ridiculous things - like the hallways getting darker. Yes, that must be it. He and his ever eager mind making up problems.

And then it happened. For nobody to deny the white and silver light flooding heaven turned into a dark grey while a rumbling sound accompanied a quake that shook Heaven in its core.

Panic arose. Hasty footsteps of thousands echoed through the halls and corridors. Most of the angels had no clue what to do, including Aziraphale. Without exactly knowing why, his feet carried him towards Heaven’s library. On his way his ears caught fragments of conversations. Lucifer’s name was whispered. He heard the word rebellion! Unthinkable! 

But the closer he came to his goal, the closer he came to Heaven’s center as well. And then he saw it. He stepped into the alcove for a better view around the corner.

A fight. Several dozens of angels fought! Each other! Like a whirlwind of disturbed light they rushed at each other and it took a while before he could make out who was on the same side and who was not. The factions’ powers appeared to be evenly matched because after a while one side withdrew. The first group, led by Michael, blocked the second’s, led by Lucifer, way back to Heaven’s center.

Michael, her ice blue eyes glowing dangerously, pointed her sword at Lucifer. Lightning cackled along her blade in sync with her wrath.

“You are no longer welcome here, brother!” she spat the last word full of scorn.

Aziraphale shuddered at the display of power and disdain, but Lucifer was unfazed. He swung his sword with a dark chuckle. Something was wrong with his weapon. Aziraphale leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. With a passing glance the Firstborn’s sword might seem as always: An artful handle, a sharp blade and pure holy light engulfing it. But looking at it longer and with the sharp focus most angels did not give Aziraphale credit for, he noticed how now and then a thin black thread would wind along the blade within the brightly flickering light.

“Really, Michael?” Lucifer mocked, his typical smugness turning into plain vanity. “You think you are a match for me? Think again!”

Fighting the urge to shapeshift into angeldust and bolt, Aziraphale kept watching, equally in curiosity and shock. 

“Leave now and I will not have to prove how much more than that I am,” Michael stated, no longer angry but terrifyingly cold.

Obviously to support her, Uriel and Gabriel presented their weapons as well. Quickly Uriel drew her two short swords and while she whirled them, a thin layer of ice started to cover the blades. Gabriel hesitated for a second’s fracture, but then his hands took hold of his two-handed fire blade.

Michael and Lucifer both took a menacing step forward. For a moment they stared. Then, simultaneously they screamed, raised their sword and the blades came crashing down. Aziraphale gasped and turned away, awaiting the ugly sound of steel meeting steel. But it never came. Instead it was a blunt sound followed by confused voices.

Aziraphale dared turning his gaze back. 

Another redhead had joined the group. Archangel Raphael! Aziraphale had never talked to him. Or it was more the other way around. Raphael was very busy between his duties as an Archangel and as God’s favorite creator. He did not have the time to talk to an insignificant archivist.

It was a relief to see him. His wooden staff, strengthened by a new power God had recently brought to be, had blocked both swords and now his golden eyes flicked between his siblings. His red hair was darker than Michael’s and, unlike her neatly arranged locks, fell on his shoulders in unruly curls.

“This is ridiculous!” he exclaimed, pushing both blades aside.

“Ridiculous?” Lucifer repeated. “You did not seem to think so when we talked about my objections yesterday.”

Yesterday. Aziraphale nodded. Right! It had started yesterday. Lucifer was the first to grasp that time thing.

“I mean, it’s ridiculous to fight it out with weapons!” Raphael clarified. “Let’s discuss.”

“What do you think I wanted to do?” the Morning Star growled. “But SHE refuses to answer my questions. And HER good little soldiers silenced me. Well, they tried.”

“What?” Confusion spread across Raphael’s face. 

“There will be no discussion,” Michael spoke now, positioning her sword again between herself and her older brother. “Lucifer refused to accept HER word and is therefore banished from Heaven.”

“For asking questions?” Raphael’s eyes went wide in shock. “That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

“Think? For herself?” Lucifer sneered. “You are highly overestimating her.”

Again Michael and Lucifer fixated each other, gripping their weapons tighter.

“Brethren!” Raphael’s tone bordered on desperation. “We can talk about this.”

“I said, no more talking!” Michael answered without taking her eyes of the Firstborn.

“And for once I agree,” Lucifer smiled too sweetly before adding with a menacing rumble: “I will reshape this place. I will rule Heaven. SHE is no longer able to. SHE lost her mind! Putting us, putting ME aside for two hairless monkeys and their future breed.”

“What?” This time Raphael’s shocked look was directed at the Morning Star. “Hold on a second. I am all in favor of demanding information, but…”

“And SHE would not give those.”

“Then we ask again! Explain our reasons. We need to be reasonable and…”

“Enough!” Michael bellowed. “Lucifer, you are banned from Heaven! Leave! Raphael! You are with us or against us! There is no in betw…”

“NOW!” Lucifer called and his followers started swarming out.

Confused that he did no attack Michael hesitated for a moment and looked around, watching the rebellious angels running in different directions. Lucifer used the distraction and slammed his body against hers, sending her against Uriel. The latter, instincts sharp as ever, dropped her weapons immediately to avoid hurting Michael and caught her.  Gabriel, instincts not half as sharp as Uriel’s, was busy processing.

Lucifer laughed and gave a wink before running off. 

“Gabriel, Uriel, guard the center!” Michael ordered when she was on her feet again. “I will go after Lucifer and you…”

She pointed at Raphael who gave her a confused look.

“What about me?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

*

“There is a rebellion going on and you want to make sure the books are fine?“ Michael cast him an incredulous look before shaking her head, blowing a stray lock of flaming hair from her face and rushing away, sword readied for whoever may wrong her.

Aziraphale looked after her. Frozen in place for a second.

“Well, that was not exactly a ‘no’, was it?” he spoke to himself and hurried towards Heaven’s library. Gabriel had forbidden that he and the other archivists joined the fighting. So what harm would it do if he – instead of hiding in the quarters – hid in the library, locking it safely from the inside to make sure that Lucifer and his followers would not get a chance to make a mess there?

He rushed through the hallways. His destination brought him closer to the fighting noises but not so close that he had to worry. 

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he worried. He always did. Lucifer! That arrogant spoiled little brat – Aziraphale loved him deeply of course – was bound to cause trouble sooner or later.

With a sigh he pushed open the artfully carved double-leaf door to the library. The room behind was of ambitious size. Not even a quarter of the shelves was filled with books or scrolls yet, but God and her angels were determined to fill it with millions of words about the wonders of Creation. Aziraphale was sure that HER current project – Earth – would fill at least one more shelf, maybe even two! These ‘humans’ SHE talked about so much seemed to be a quite curious and adorable pair. He wondered if he would ever get to see them himself. But that was a question for another – what did SHE call it? – day! Right. 

“Focus!” he chastised himself and rushed over to an empty bookshelf. Satisfied he found one of the currently unneeded boards loose and removed it. It would do just fine as a bolt for the door. Hurrying back to the door, Aziraphale got a little too close to one of the reading tables and knocked over a flask of lamp oil spilling its content across the floor.

“Oh no!” Aziraphale exclaimed. But it could have been worse, like knocking over one the candles. That would have been a problem in a library. Bringing parts of Heaven to the physical plane had its downsides. Well, he would take care of the mess as soon as he had bolted that...

One door leaf opened and in slipped Lhinael and Hariah, two high-ranked angels regularly seen moving in Lucifer’s circles. Both their faces were filled with grim determination as they entered.

“We made it!” Lhinael stated. “Now we just need to… Aziraphale?”

Both angels stopped dead in their tracks as they saw him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what are you doing here?” Hariah hissed at him. “Weren’t you scribblers supposed to be in your quarters?”

“Well…,” Aziraphale fought for keeping up a self-confident façade. It was hard seeing the beloved faces so full of anger, but he was determined to stand his ground: “For one, I think you and the rest of Lucifer’s lot have forfeit the right to claim acting ‘for God’s sake’ and for two, I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?”

Grinning Hariah pointed at one of the candles.

“Just a small fire to keep God’s little marionettes busy. A little distraction.”

Now Aziraphale failed in keeping his composure.

“Fire? In the library?” he exclaimed. “Are you mad?”

“Look,” Lhinael said. “You should not be here. Nobody should be here so nobody gets hurt. We have no quarrel with you so if you just…”

“No quarrel with me?” Aziraphale asked in a high-pitched voice. “Dear boy, be assured that if you want to put this library on fire, you have plenty of quarrel with me.”

Lhinael sighed, an almost pained expression spreading across his face. Meanwhile Hariah laughed.

“Isn’t that adorable?” He elbowed his comrade while kicking the door shut with his feet. “He thinks he can take us.”

Aziraphale swallowed. Hariah had a point. It was one archivist against two warriors. That might not end well for him. But he could not back down. This place meant a lot to him and to HER. He at least had to try. So he straightened his back and spoke with as much confidence he could muster:

“As the highest ranked member of the library team present I command you to leave. If you do not follow these instructions, I will be forced to take… measures.”

Laughing again Hariah drew his sword and rushed towards Aziraphale. Lhinael moved shortly after, maybe to assist his brother, maybe to keep him from killing the archivist. One of them focused on Aziraphale, the other one focused on the first, none of them saw the puddle of oil on the ground.

Hariah slipped and comically his arms flapped around trying to regain his balance. Which was too bad for Lhinael who at the last second noticed the oil on the floor and stopped moving, but nonetheless went down after Hariah hit him hard against the head. His unconscious form slumped against the hollows of his comrade’s knees taking him with it. Hariah’s cry of rage and pain was cut short when the back of his head hit the reading table and he too was knocked out.

“Oh dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed, hurrying towards his brethren. Yes, they had rebelled, yes, they had planned on doing a terrible thing (or two if one counted setting the library on fire and hurting Aziraphale separately), but still he loved them and did not wish any harm upon them.

As he kneeled down to examine their injuries, the door burst open once more with Michael and Gabriel storming in, both their weapons readied.

“I am sure I saw them. They're not in the hallway so…,” Michael fell silent when her eyes landed on the scene near the reading tables. She and Gabriel openmouthed took in the kindhearted archivist Aziraphale, loose board in his hand, kneeling over the unconscious forms of two rebellious warrior angels.

While Michael kept staring, Gabriel started laughing. Smiling widely he strode towards the three angels in the library and patted Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Will you look at that?” he said full of pride and admiration. “I will admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked confused.

“Well,” Gabriel explained. “On your own with a makeshift weapon you defended the library against two of the Fallen who were fully armed.”

“Fallen?”

“Yes,” Michael nodded. “That’s what SHE calls those who rebelled. They are to be cast out.”

“Oh.”

“But you!” On Gabriel’s face an uncanny smile spread while he and Michael started to drag the unconscious rebels out of the library. “You have the spirit of a fighter. I hear SHE is looking for some… sort of guard or something for her newest project. I will make sure, SHE hears about this. Don’t worry! I’ll make sure, you’ll be able to put that… fire in you to good use.”

 “Ehm…,” Aziraphale made, but he was already alone again.

*

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice ripped him back to the here and now.

“Hm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I was just curious.”

“What?”

The demon raised one eyebrow.

“Where has your brilliant mind been now, Angel?” he snickered before adding: “No more stalling! Who looked at you and said ‘Yepppp, that’s the warrior we need to guard the Gates of Paradise!’?”

“Gabriel.”

“Huh? Why?”

Again, Aziraphale’s face took on that expression somewhere settled between thoughtful and sad and Crowley feared his angel was spacing out on him again.

“You know,” Aziraphale finally answered. “I defended the library against some rebels.”

“You what?”

“Yes, they wanted to set it on fire to cause a distraction,” Aziraphale elaborated. “Of course I could not allow that. So I had to stop them.”

“But you did not have a weapon back then.”

“Oh, you know.” Aziraphale waved his hand, obviously faking the humbleness in his voice. “You make do with what you find in a situation like this.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. As far as he knew Aziraphale had never outright lied to him. But over the millennia he had become quite good at bending the truth and smartly sharing and holding back facts. A part of Crowley was very proud of his angel for this, but he had known him long enough to sooner or later find out the whole story.

For now he settled with saying: “I guess, when provoked you are a force to be reckoned with – with or without flaming sword.”

“And don’t you forget it, dear boy,” Aziraphale nodded with a smug expression.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Crowley grinned. “I won’t forget.”