A Good Omens vignette.
Disclaimer: The usual yada-yada applies—I don't own it, wish I did, etc. It was written solely for my own enjoyment and entertainment, and of course yours as well. Feel free to r/r; I always appreciate comments. This is, by the way, my first ever Good Omens fic.
Thanks to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman for writing such a terribly good book. (Like they're ever going to read this, but I'll thank them anyway. Couldn't hurt.)
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"He must be terribly angry," said Aziraphale, "to create such a place."
The angel to whom he was speaking no longer had a name, and his new supervisors had yet to give him one, so Aziraphale did not directly address him. They stood, so to speak, over the firmament, and the place Aziraphale had referred to was a new addition to a universe that didn't have much in the way of sights to see—at least not yet. He continued, "I mean, there's torment and sulfur and circles and things. Sounds awful."
The other angel shrugged mildly. "They're not so much circles as one big spiral, really. I don't expect it will be all that bad, but I certainly don't intend to spend all my time there, anyway." He seemed singularly unconcerned about the whole situation.
That confused Aziraphale. "There's nowhere else to go," he protested.
"Not yet, anyway," said the other angel, and they both knew that was true. There were big changes on the way.
They stood in silence for a few moments, in the midst of nothing. "I heard a rumor," Aziraphale said at last, "that you'll be getting different wings."
The other angel shook his head. "Shouldn't listen to rumors," he muttered. "They're pretty much the same—maybe even nicer."
"I must admit," Aziraphale continued after a thoughtful pause, "I kind of admire the uprising thing. It takes real guts."
Only silence answered that statement; the other angel offered no response, not out of modesty but because it hadn't actually been his idea. More or less, he had a friend who had a friend who knew the one who started it, and he just got pulled along. That didn't take guts. "Did you get your first assignment yet?" Aziraphale added.
He nodded. "Yeah. Something about a tree."
Now Aziraphale brightened a bit. "That sounds like my next assignment," he said. "We'll likely see each other again soon, then."
Before the other angel could respond, a command sounded, four words that tore through the nothing, and suddenly there was a separation that hadn't been there before, and there was Light and Dark. The command echoed through the universe and into Eternity.
When it faded at last into the depths of infinity, the other angel sighed. "That's my cue," he said, and turned to Aziraphale. "So long, then."
They shook hands* and Aziraphale said, "Bye."
Already, more divisions were forming; tiny dots of light in the distance stood in sharp contrast to the new dark. It was suddenly so cut-and-dried—a big line down the middle of everything, irrevocably separating light and dark, right and wrong, good and evil. There was no such thing as gray anymore. The other angel took one last glance at Heaven, turned, and began to saunter vaguely downwards…
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* This was, as far as anyone knows, the first instance of shaking hands.