(A/N: Hello, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, or what you're celebrating!
Now I'm back again! Sometimes life comes in the way. I usually have a lot of work around the holidays and I've been moving.
Thank you for all the likes and favorites on this story!
Now back to Aziraphale in Heaven.
Love,
TheHouseKnight)
"Sometimes beginnings aren't so simple. Sometimes goodbye's the only way."
(Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park)
Time passed much more slowly in Heaven than on Earth. According to God herself, time moves about five times slower than in Hell and on Earth. No one knows exactly how this came to be when Heaven was created, but there are rumors that God's clock broke, and she simply guessed what time it was. This led to two different timelines. So, when an hour passes on Earth, only twelve minutes pass in Heaven.
Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked around. He lightly touched his chin with his hand. A light stubble had started to grow.
"Did I fall asleep? I never sleep," he said.
Aziraphale sat up. The clock on the wall above the door read 1:45.
"How long have I been asleep?"
He shook his head and ran his fingers through his messy hair.
"I wonder what Crowley is doing now," Aziraphale sighed, standing up. He walked over to the desk and sat down again. In front of him was a large stack of folders containing various prayers to be reviewed, miracles to be performed, and requests for rejections. Aziraphale took his reading glasses from his waist pocket and put them on. He then picked up one of the folders and began his work.
So many prayers that Heaven could not answer due to a lack of power or angels. Aziraphale went through folder after folder, growing more and more tired as time passed. He yawned, and when the last folder was finished, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said Aziraphale.
The door opened, and an angel named Raguel entered. Raguel wore a white shirt with a frill and a pair of gray suit trousers.
"It's time for the meeting with Michael, Uriel, and Saraqael in the grand hall," said Raguel.
Aziraphale nodded as he stood up, adjusted his vest, and brushed invisible crumbs off his white suit jacket. He followed Raguel out of the room and down a long, white corridor. It felt unusually long, and Aziraphale continued with heavy steps behind the younger angel.
Finally, they reached a large table where the others were already sitting. Raguel showed Aziraphale to his seat and left as quickly as he came. Michael stared at him with an intense gaze, as if she were trying to burn him alive. Uriel looked at both of them before starting the meeting. Hours passed, feeling like they would never end. Aziraphale grew more and more filled with anxiety in his stomach. He started to pick at his nails and eventually bit them. When there were no nails left to bite, he heard Uriel:
"Now it's time to go through the plan for the Second Coming."
Everything stopped, and Aziraphale looked at Uriel in confusion.
"Second Coming? Already?"
"Hasn't Metatron told you already? You're supposed to lead all the angels in the war beside Jesus," said Saraqael calmly.
Michael also turned to look at him with a smirk. Aziraphale tried to swallow a large, invisible lump stuck in his throat.
"Can I see the plan?" He cleared his throat.
Uriel handed him a folder across the large table. A slim, thin brown folder with "Second Coming" written in large, jagged letters. With trembling hands, Aziraphale opened the folder. Inside was a piece of paper. He began to read:
"The 'Great Plan' for the Second Coming is a divine scheme to trigger an apocalyptic war between Heaven and Hell. Metatron, acting as God's voice, orchestrates this conflict by ensuring Jesus Christ's return, intending to bring about the final battle.
The goal is to restore divine order by destroying humanity with a reset and reasserting Heaven's dominance.
The new Supreme Archangel will stand by Jesus Christ's side and lead the angelic army against Hell."
Aziraphale panicked. The air left his body. He tried to take a breath, to say something, but there was nothing left. He had left the world when he returned to Heaven, and now the world would be destroyed, erased. All his books, music, nature, people. Everything. But worst of all, the one he loved most would be destroyed
Oh, Crowley…
What have I done…