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Sins of the Father

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Kindness is often a double-edged sword. You only think of the initial act and not of the hidden consequences behind that action.

For example, you might think no harm could be done in gifting someone a weapon. It’s for protection you reason, it’s only going to lead to their survival you insist to yourself. And for awhile, you would be right.

It will lead to protection and a sense of security. It will help someone so vulnerable get through their first few months alone in the wilderness.

But then you, and by you I really mean Aziraphale Angel of the Eastern Gate, would come to learn you had gifted humanity with their first taste of violence. Their very first act of blood shed and victory, for now it will be used to slay the beasts that hunt them but very soon they will become the hunters and their prey will be weaker humans.

Aziraphale was tested when he was confronted outside of Eden, I asked him the very simple question of where his sword, the symbol of War, his weapon to smite the unholy in the upcoming battle, had gotten to.

Aziraphale would never mean any harm, sheepishly stuttering a moment, wringing his hands in front of him with a small red flush creeping on his cheeks, before glancing away from the divine light in embarrassment. He was quick to put on his best smile, trying his best to lie an omniscient being.

“Sword? Right. Big cutty thing. Yes. Must have put it down somewhere. Forget my own head next.”

Figuratively speaking, he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was staring his mother in the face with crumbs still coating his mouth and hands and lying with that good-natured and naïve smile on his face. Don't think I couldn't see the panic and guilt when he thought I looked away.

I let the subject drop though, Aziraphale was not malicious , he was kind and gentle and only wanted what was best. Foolish yes but it would be better for him to learn in time. I let him finish his task, rebuilding the wall of Eden in that gentle way he did, helping his mother clean up a mess he technically helped create.

I let him leave, spread his wings and fly away from me, my good natured and sweet boy. He meant well and there was never need to punish him. He could with time learn of his own mistakes. I would not interfere, this was his burden to bear.

Night fell and Aziraphale caught up with the humans, looking over worriedly at Adam cuddled close to Eve, running his fingers across her stomach. He felt a guilt in his soul that would never truly leave him.

Aziraphale had never known death, he had been created after the rebellion and first war, he didn’t properly understand the concept just yet. The smell, the terrible rotting smell of something slain brought tears to his eyes as he placed his hand over his mouth in sorrow at the once mighty lion that had been slain to protect Eve. The first of many creatures that would know mortality, the first creature death would lay his hands on.

From that carnage there was a faint sobbing, a crack of thunder on the quiet plain of sand and nothing that spread for miles.

Aziraphale took a step closer and saw a baby, more specifically his baby. The child born from the first death by human hand, the first battle they would ever have to partake in, the child born from a sword made for a holy war. A child created for such carnage and destruction.

Gagging slightly at the awful stench of death, the angel bent forward, drawn to the child, knowing she was part of him. Knowing she was his but naïve enough to not understand the implications of such a child existing at all. He stared at her in wonder sinking down to the sand, miracling away the blood that covered her and wrapping his wings around both of them for warmth during the first cold night.

“Hello there…” he cooed to her softly and she put her hand on his face as he marveled at her patch of red hair, the color of blood shed, but to his innocent mind, it reminded him of the beautiful flowers he had seen in the garden.

He didn’t need to sleep, so he didn’t, cuddling the small babe until the sun rose and nestling his head against her’s as she began to wail, the loud cry of War, but to Aziraphale, it was just an innocent act.

He would make many excuses for her as the years carried on.