Chapter Text
Metatron and Aziraphale are on the escalator going up to heaven. It's too bright, too cold, too overstimulating. Aziraphale sighed as a wave of dread washed over him. He couldn't just leave now, could he? He could feel Metatron's eyes all over him like a rash. He remembered the look in Crowley's eyes before he stormed out; if the roles were reversed, Aziraphale would storm out too. He understood the situation and the reasons behind it, and he had to do the right thing, yet there was this unsettling feeling that Aziraphale couldn't shake off himself. Metatron turned his cold eyes away, looked at the escalator door, and spoke. "Thank you for joining us, Aziraphale. God will be very proud of you. You are a good angel."
Aziraphale was quite shocked to hear a compliment. Angels didn't complement. Angels didn't say nice things to each other or hug or anything, especially the Metatron. He must indeed be good, then. Aziraphale couldn't question it. "You believe so? I do wish I had made the right decision."
"Of course you have, Don't be silly. The way of God is always good, and I am the Voice of God, so I am also Good. And I am always right; by that logic, you are right too."
"I'm sorry, but may I ask what my role will be when we arrive? What is my first assessment, dear Metatron?"
DING! A blue button light flashed above the escalator doors before they swung open with a blinding light that showed through. Just as Aziraphale remembered, everything was white and empty. Bizarrely enough, Michael and Uriel stood a couple of meters away from the entrance, grinning widely, almost smiling, but something wasn't right. Their eyes didn't move with their smiles, and their bodies were stiff. An object was hidden between them but out of place where Aziraphale couldn't see from the doors. As he walked closer to the two, he saw a golden pillar with a blue flame on topof it. Thought the flame moved slowly, too slow to be a normal flame, and it didn't emit any heat. The room was too cold.
"There has been a slight change of plans. We believe that for your courage and dedication to the Holy devotion of goodness and light, there's a better job for you. Now you will still be an archangel, do not worry but believe as a family that you would suit a more original role if I do say.
Aziraphale was starting to worry. Their smiles grew more prominent and more menacing the closer they got until they reached the flame. Aziraphale knew this wasn't Hellfire because Hellfire came with a particular sulphur smell and was bright red. This flame didn't smell like anything or have heat; it was just existing. He had never seen anything like this before.
"Aziraphale, you have been nominated to be the new avatar for the hand of God."
"I'm sorry, whatever do you mean 'The hand of God'? I've never heard of a title like that?"
"It's a new title, made only for you. We remember you as a great warrior before your time on earth made you native and docile. Hopefully, this will bring you back into high spirits."
Uriel and Michale were instantly behind Aziraphale, each grabbing one of his arms and bending it backwards. Aziraphale didn't have time to register before he was brought closer to the flame. "UNHAND ME! I DON'T LIKE THIS ANYMORE!" Aziraphale screamed! He shouldn't have trusted them; he knew this deep down, he knew he knew he knew and yet he was stupid. Crowley was right. Crowley was right. Crowley was right. Crowley.
"Oh, hush now, this is for your own good. You are too emotional and too interdependent. This flame here is none other than 'The Holy Spirit'. You will be connected to God directly, doing their goodwill. You will be the literal hand of God. Isn't that wonderful?"
"NO, NO, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. LET ME GO HOME" He stumbled and pressed his feet into the ground, but nothing worked. The flame was inches from his face; he could feel the heat now. It was like thousands of voices rushed at him, making his eyes water. The power that radiated from that flame scared him to death. Uriel and Michael held strong against Aziraphale's thrashing.
"you, Aziraphale, have been blessed", Uriel whispered into his ear.
"I would kill for this chance to be God's right-hand man. You don't know how good you have it, Aziraphale!" Michael screamed in his other.
Metatron gently picked up the flame in one hand, and with his other, he lifted Aziraphale's face upward.
"you have always loved food, haven't you, Aziraphale? Bizarre that, an angel eating. How silly." Metatron held the flame higher into the air. "as my last act of love, consider this you're last meal." Uriel clutched the back of Aziraphale's head, gripping his hair and yanking it back. The hand holding Aziraphale's face prided open his jaw quickly as the flame was thrown into his mouth. Michale promptly let go of his arm and had Aziraphale's maw together in a headlock. In instinct, Aziraphale swallowed, his throat burning and his eyes watered. Thrashing, crying, begging, nothing worked. His thousand eyes widened all at once. Power rushed over him, and everything went black.
The thrashing stopped, and the screaming stopped. Everything stopped. The three angels quickly stepped a few feet backwards, observing Aziraphale. He did nothing for a while; he just stood straight and looked upwards with his eyes and mouth closed. The three angels looked at each other, confused; they expected more. A moment later, Metatron spoke in a hushed voice.
"Aziraphale? Are you present?"
Gradually Aziraphales's head dropped to face forward, his eyes and mouth flung open, and with it, angry blue flames shot out like centipedes. The room became Sweltering hot. The Fire consumed Aziraphale. The angels looked frightened. For the first time, they felt fear.