Chapter Text
The fall before the Fall was kind of like the calm before the storm, as long as you ignore the ragged screams of an angel who could feel the last flames of his mother’s love fizzle out into a pile of smoldering ash.
It wasn’t the falling that was bad, Aziraphale decided. It was what came after the fall that hurt the most. The feeling of crash landing and sinking into that pool of sulfur. The first thought of ‘this is really happening’. So yeah, falling wasn’t as scary as he had originally thought it to be. Sure, there was an awful anticipation and fear that crawled from his stomach and up through his throat, forcing it’s way out his mouth, but the fear was nothing compared to excruciating pain that followed.
The demon clawed his way of out the pit, dragging himself a little ways away. Just enough get away from the edge. He glanced behind him at his scorched and blackened wings, his poor feathers. His lower lip was held tightly between his teeth as tears welled up in his eyes.
It burned. It all burned. The tears burned, his wings- his whole existence burned. The angel he once was… burned away in the Fall. His mind was a bit foggy and was left with few memories of his previous self. Just flashes of places and faces that hurt his head if he tried to think too hard about. He was sure everything would come back to him in time.
The holy tears he still had hurt a hell of a lot too. Oh, how he wished he’d cried them all out in the fall. Now, they stung his cheeks, burning, as they slid down his face.
He couldn’t move his body, he was in too much pain. He allowed himself to collapse on the ground, burnt wings folded protectively over his body. The demon cried out. It was a loud, guttural cry. He had never felt such pain or shame in his time. How long he cried, he did not know.
He couldn’t understand how She could cast him out so easily after everything. He had been good. He had been loving.
Maybe he had loved too much.
It didn’t matter much anymore, he supposed. It was far too late to change whatever behavior led to the Fall. He wiped away the burning tears with the charred remains of his shirt and breathed deeply.
“I’m sorry!” the demon screamed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” His useless apologies devolved into shallow weeps once more.
He noticed the ache in his knees as he stood up, weak and unsteady. He started walking in a direction that felt right, trusting his gut to lead to way.
As he was walking, he heard something, a voice he did not recognize shouted a name.
“Aziraphale!” the voice called.
That was his name. Was. Before the Fall. Was he still allowed to be called that name? That was an angel’s name after all. Aziraphale.. Would he be allowed to respond to that name when it wasn’t the being he was any more?
The voice called out to him again, this time he took a chance and looked over to the figure. They beckoned him over and he went.
He did not recognize this being, he assumed at the very least that they were a demon. And his assumption was correct.
“I was sent to escort you to Lord Beezelbub. Ze is very excited to be meeting with you. We haven’t had a Fallen Angel in quite some time. Follow me.” The demon turned sharply on their heels and Aziraphale (?) followed after them in silence. He did not want to risk anything else today.
Aziraphale could sense fear in the demon. It was different than the fear of God the humans talked about. Did these demons not fear God? Well, Aziraphale certainly didn’t fear Her. He loved Her. She is his mother after all. Perhaps these demons felt the same as he did.
Still, Aziraphale felt conflicted by his continuous love for Her. She threw him aside as if She never needed him in the first place. Aziraphale was too in his head and decided with a firm, silent, nod to himself that he would be alert and keep his guard up. At least while he was in Hell. He should pay attention to his surroundings. No use in mourning his loss of what could’ve been.
Aziraphale had been dragged down to hell, when he was still something of an angel. Though, this was a different area. Everything looked the same but this place was different. Barren and abandoned. The walls seemed to be peeling- well.. more than what was usual, Aziraphale supposed.
As they trudged along, they saw other demons here and there. Something deep inside him lurched at the thought of being surrounded by so many demons. They all sneered at him, glowering and baring their teeth. Aziraphale stuck close to the demon leading the way to Beelzebub, like they would protect him.
He soon got used to the stares. It really was as the demon had said, it had been a very long time since there was a fallen angel. Did they fear him as he feared them?
Up ahead there was a lone demon standing outside a large door. The demon Aziraphale was following spoke to them.
“Beelzebub requested to meet with Aziraphale,” they informed.
The other demon nodded and entered the room for a moment before coming back out.
“Ze will meet with you now.” They hold the large door open.
The demon ushered Aziraphale into room and the door was quick shut. He turned quickly to find he was alone with the Prince of Hell.
“Aziraphale. Funny seeing you here,” Beelzebub taunted.
Aziraphale brushed some ash off what was left of his waistcoat. He’d have to find something suitable to replace it with, he realized with an indignant sigh. “Well, I- yes, I suppose so.” His voice shook as he spoke.
Ze leaned forward. “Give me the details. Did you give into a desire of wrath, maybe?”
Aziraphale huffed lightly. “I think that might be the only sin I didn’t give into.”
“Fascinating. Don’t tell me Crowley managed to tempt you.” Beelzebub sat back in zir seat.
A flit of recognition crossed Aziraphale’s mind. His eyebrows pinched together.
“Crowley…” The name felt heavy on his tongue. Familiar.
Who was this Crowley figure?
Beelzebub clicked zir tongue. “I should have you work on Earth with Shax…”
“I quite like Earth.. I do remember that. Is it normal to experience amnesia after the- the Fall? Will my memories return Lord Beelzebub?”
Rubbing zir chin, Beelzebub said, “The amnesia’s normal but your memories are.. unlikely to return. I mean, maybe a few here and there. But don’t fret, young one, there will be plenty of time to make new ones.”
“Well,” Aziraphale started, “what am i to do until then?”
Beelzebub grinned, yellow teeth peaking out from behind dry lips. “Young demon, it doesn’t seem that there are any pressing matters I need you to take care of at the moment. Go to Earth and mingle or what have you. Shax is waiting for you in somewhere in Soho. Find her when you’re ready. When the time comes I’ll call on you, but until then you’re free to wander.”
Aziraphale could sense mischief in zir order but did not dare to question it. He had enough reckoning for one day, and to say he was tired would be a wild understatement. He was already planning out his bubble bath for when he got home. His wings needed some love.
“Yes, my Lord,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Is there anything else you need me for while I’m here?”
“No, Aziraphale, you are excused. Do you know how to get to Earth from here?”
Ze must’ve seen some kind of contemplative look on his face because right as he was about to say that he didn’t, Beelzebub snapped zir fingers and it was like Aziraphale had been thrown backward through space. His breath was suddenly gone and his chest felt tight.
Just as quickly as it happened, it was over and he was in a bookshop in Soho. His bookshop? It felt like it was a part of him. It felt warm, loved. This was where he belonged. With a reluctant sigh, Aziraphale wandered through the isles of the store trying to grasp at fine threads of memories.
A table sits tucked away in the corner with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses. Two? Why on Earth would he need two glasses out? What had he been doing just before he Fell? Something just on the cusp of realization flitted through his mind. Something familiar, not unlike his bookshop, something that made him whole, but what was it?
Aziraphale turned away from the table and made his way over to the stairs leading to the second floor. His hand brushed against the banister almost like he was afraid it might break under his touch. He held onto it anyway to steady himself as he walked up the stairs.
On the second floor there were three different rooms. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a study. He decided to check out the bedroom first, though he knew it wouldn’t be very lived in. Angel’s had no need for sleep after all. He pushed the door open and stepped in. The first the he noticed was the state of the bed. Blankets were strewn about atop the mattress and black feathers littered the area.
“Someone must be molting,” he muttered absentmindedly as he went to fix the bed. The pillow had been slept on, he noticed. Did he used to sleep? Aziraphale couldn’t recall.
Once the bed was properly made, Aziraphale happily moved on to cleaning up the feathers and disposing of them in the bathroom trash bin. While he was in the bathroom we figured he might as well draw himself a bath. He felt disgusting and sinful. He was embarrassed by the state his corporeal form was in. Not even to mention his wings. His poor wings.. They would need to be pruned and sorted out in the bath. He had to get clean he decided.
He lit a few candles and set them on a shelf on the wall far enough from his wings, they had already taken enough abuse today. Aziraphale prepared the rest of his bath and when it was ready and he peeled his singed clothes off and slipped in, sinking down until the water came up to his shoulders. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as the heat of the water washed over him. He let his wings unfurl from his back and stretch out. Ash drifted lazily off of his still burning wings before he dunked them into the tub as well.
Aziraphale closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he felt the small flames on his wings slowly go out in the water. He took a shaky breath and got to work situating his wings and once that was done he scrubbed his body down.
He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. He scrubbed harder and harder and harder. No amount of soap would cleanse his sinful soul. He was tainted, a horrific demon with blackened wings. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to wash his sin away, begging his mother for forgiveness, and by the time he was uncontrollably crying again, his skin was red and raw and stinging in the hot water. Maybe that’s what he deserved for what he had done. He deserved this. He had wronged Her and this is how he was paying for it.
Aziraphale leaned his head back against the tub as he sobbed. He prayed incoherently for something he knew would never happen. He prayed to feel his mother’s love once more.