Chapter Text
His siblings told him that he had been a prisoner of Hell for over six thousand years and it was by Her blessing that they managed to save him as well as his memories of the horrors were taken from him.
He didn't feel quite as lucky.
Over six thousand years taken from him. Even for an angel that was a significant amount of time. Six thousand years that he couldn't remember.
While he'd rather not remember the no doubt countless torture he had faced, but he wanted to remember something .
But worse than the six thousand years that he couldn't remember was everything else that had been taken not just from him but all of Heaven.
The Rebellion and the Fall of Angels. Almost half of his younger siblings are gone, choosing to Fall from Heaven, all led by their eldest brother Samael, now known as Lucifer.
And worse was one specific angel that he couldn't find in Heaven among the others, the one angel that should have been at his side from the moment he had returned but was nowhere to be found and he was terrified to find out why.
But curiosity had always been a part of his nature and eventually the burning questions overcame him with the simple desire to know.
He couldn't ask his older siblings, the other archangels, because he knew they wouldn't answer. They refused to tell him what had happened from what he last remembered, refused to talk about the Rebellion and Fall, refused to truly tell him anything other than how lucky and blessed he was that they were finally able to get him out of that horrible place.
Which to say, they told him absolutely nothing.
He was able to request files and documents so he settled to find his answers there. He read for ages, noting but not saying anything when he noticed that certain information or names were omitted. Was the words omitted for some other reason than trying to keep things from him?
He didn't want to think so but there didn't seem to be any other reason.
The angel that was, more or less, assigned to him as a quasi assistance also fell short at times. Sometimes they seemed to be deciding whether or not to bring him what he asked or outright refused to answer his questions. A lot of the time they weren't where they said they'd be, leaving Raphael to go look for them and inevitably running into his siblings who would scold him for going out alone, ignoring him when he said he was looking for his assistant and escorting
pushing
him back to his office. His office that hadn't been touched since the last time he had been here, some of his old notes for galaxy constellations had still been on the desk, forgotten.
Like him
, a corner of his mind whispered.
No, no. He hadn't been forgotten. He had been a prisoner.
Or had he been?
He had to have been, his siblings wouldn't lie to him about something like this. They wouldn't.
His assistant still wasn't answering his summons. Again.
Sighing, Raphael leaned back in his seat, fiddling with a pen, a writing utensil that he was still getting used to.
His assistant, his real assistant, was never like this. The angel had always been so eager to help, eager to do his work, even if it was countless hours of fetching scroll after scroll. He had been the one Raphael had bounced ideas off, brain stormed together and honestly, had enjoyed spending time with the most.
After all, Aziraphale had been made for him.
He remembered when Aziraphale had been created, because he had been there. It had been the day the Almighty had assigned to each archangel an assistant. He had been the last one assigned, and had almost thought that the Almighty had forgotten him because She seemed to skip over him.
But he knew his Mother would never do such a thing and he was rewarded for his faith. He wasn't going to be assigned an angel, one was going to be created specifically for him, even down to his name. The angel had been created right in front of him by the breath of God and when the angel opened their eyes, Raphael had been the first being they saw.
Mother had then given him his name, Aziraphale. Aid to Raphael, created just for him.
And oh, he had been so perfect. He had known exactly what Raphael had needed before he himself knew, was able to anticipate any need of his, even was able to give constructive opinions on the creations of the stars.
He had also enjoyed the touch of independence that Mother had given him. He followed Raphael but not so blindly, had wanted to know the process and creation aspect, Raphael had even taught him and then they followed the plans together, stars coming to life between their clasped hands.
Those times had been so wonderful, he had been so happy. Doing his work with someone who had the same adoration for what they had made. None of his older siblings or younger siblings saw the same wonder and excitement in the stars that he had, they did their work and moved on. Raphael stayed and observed, played with, and created over and over again until he was satisfied and if at times he didn't quite follow the blueprints, only he and later Aziraphale knew and neither of them were going to be telling on the other. Those times had been the best of his existence, working with Aziraphale at his side.
But then, allegedly, the War had happened, Angels had Fallen, he had been a prisoner for six thousand years, none of which he remembered, and now Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen.
He didn't want to think about what it could possibly mean.
Hence, why he had asked his somewhat assistant for a list of the Fallen Angels, surely Heaven with all its desires to keep things organized would have such a list. He pretended not to see how the angel rolled their eyes at his request and they had left, he wanted to believe that they had gone searching for his list but honestly, Raphael had a feeling they were avoiding him and would come back, at some point, without what he had asked for. Maybe they'd have an excuse they'd give him or maybe they'll just say it couldn't be found but truly, such a thing should exist.
Raphael sighed, playing with the pen between his fingers, at a loss of what to do. He knew what he wanted to do but...it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do.
But he didn't know what else to do and no one was telling him anything or even letting him go anywhere himself.
Raphael brought the pen up and started to draw in the air, tracing a sigil he easily remembered but never had to use.
Aziraphale had always been at his side, he never had to try to summon him.
The other angel's symbol was easy to create, half of it was his own name after all. It stayed in the air and he stared at it. One way or another, he would get the answer to at least one of his questions.
Instinctively, he brought the pen up and struck the tip of it against his tongue, making a face at the taste of the ink. But it got the job done, the pens tip lit up with a hint of his grace. Not letting himself hesitate anymore, he struck the sigil with the pen, the grace activating it.
Watching the sigil activate, Raphael felt a bit nervous. He thought he was ready but now, what if he was given the worst answer? But which one was the worst? To not have him answer the summons at all? To learn that he had been killed? To learn that he had Fallen?
He almost wouldn't care if he was Fallen so long as he was alive.
Raphael waited, almost not daring to breathe as he watched the sigil, eyes widening when the red of the summons turned white.
It meant Aziraphale had accepted the summons. It meant he was answering it.
It means he was alive and still an angel.
And now...he just had to wait for him to physically answer. To come to him.
His Aziraphale came back to him.
The thought made him smile, possibly for the first time since he had returned to Heaven. At the very least he knew that he could count on Aziraphale to help him, possibly even to answer the questions his siblings obviously don't wish to answer. Maybe even-
There was a commotion happening outside in the hallway.
Frowning, he stood and walked towards his door, his corporation's heart skipping a beat when he realized he could recognize the voice just behind the door.
"And I am telling you to let me pass! I have been summoned and this goes well above your-do not point your weapon at me!"
At the mention of weapons Raphael moved faster, opening the door and stepping out. He ran into someone who was literally standing outside his door, back to him, who barely moved and didn't look back as they said,
ordered
him, "Get back inside, we can take care of this renegade angel."
There was a gasp and he looked up, his entire form relaxing at the sight of Aziraphale, dressed in clothes he couldn't recognize but that didn't matter.
But what did matter was how Aziraphale was looking at him. In disbelief, in some sort of pain, he seemed to be mouthing something but Raphael couldn't make out what he was saying. Raphael gently tried to move the angel in front of him but when they refused to move he just frowned, his eyes flashing white as the angel was pushed away with force, causing them to stumble. "Excuse me." he said, coming forward and smiling at Aziraphale who hadn't moved, was just staring at him.
Were those tears in his eyes?
"Aziraphale." Raphael said warmly, reaching to place his hands on the other angels shoulders. "It's good to see you again."