𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 - 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Part Four: Heaven

Heaven

Crowley stood in his flat watering various plants as Muriel sat with her nose in an intriguing book. The two were enjoying yet another peaceful Wednesday.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale stood in one of heaven's desolate office buildings, his hands tucked back behind himself, fiddling with his ring as he stared out the large windows, in thought as his eyes flickered along the far-off ground. His expression solemnly rested as he stared.

The sound of shoes tapped along the desolate building's floor towards Aziraphale, breaking him from his reflections. Aziraphale turned himself around towards the person who was dressed in an expressionless white suit.

"We need you to start the meeting arc-angel." Michael said, his tone flat aside from the sassy emphasis he put up on 'arc angel,'  stained with envy.

"Right, of course." Aziraphale hummed, forcing a light smile before walking over.

Moments later Aziraphale looked at all the others, their faces enlarged, every detail and speckle of gold beaming through screens. It was lonesome and distant in heaven, now more than ever. There was no longer a loving closeness between the angels rather it was empty, every interaction filled with deceit and unspoken annoyance.

It was like a fancy party, everyone there was posh and constantly trying to outdo the others in some unspoken idiotic battle that none of them fully understood. A pointless taut string they tied around each other's throats tugging at which simply to get a rise out of the other. Aziraphale was the most Angel of them all in that regard. Certainly, he had plenty of gray, but he was, for the most part, kind and didn't partake in these posh social interactions nor did his words hold unspoken hatred.

"To bring upon the second coming we must carry it on with a certain sequence of events Testing humanity on their devotion and compliance," the Metatron said, staring at no one in particular.

Aziraphale hesitantly raised his hand, the others glaring at him as he did so with annoyance. "what kind of events would that be?" Aziraphale questioned.

"That is not your concern." the Metatron said sternly.

"I am frightfully sorry but if I- we are not aware of how this is going to come about then- how are we supposed to plan to put the second coming into motion? At least in a concise way." Aziraphale said, his voice quaking now

"Aziraphale, it is not your job to question the divine plan. You are more competent than that, aren't you Aziraphale." the Metatron said, a threat underlying every word he spoke.

"You are completely right. I stepped out of line," Aziraphale spoke calmly through tensing up in his seat, "May I plan a visit to Earth to scope out any important changes at the least?"

"Since you are so keen on being among those people maybe we should just send you there to raise Christ yourself." Michael proposed mockingly.

"Good idea," the Metatron remarked, giving it some thought. The Metatron's words were doused with some unclear ulterior motive.

"You're joking right?" Michael protested, his eyebrows furrowed with distaste.

"Well if anyone has the experience on earth to do so it would be Aziraphale would it not?" the Metatron said.

Excitement bubbled up from within Aziraphale, this was his chance, and maybe now he could fix things. Make amends, and prepare Crowley for what is coming.

"Of course, we would have Muriel closely accompany you. She will keep a good eye on you to make sure things don't get..out of order." the Metatron spoke, his interest in the subject swiftly fleeting.