Good Omens Oneshots

64 (IB)

Humans have secrets, but angels are not meant to be allowed to have them. I don't know about demons, I don't think they really have many rules, how would I know? I am an angel after all. In fact, I am the Archangel fucking Gabriel.

I am the Archangel fucking Gabriel and I have a secret. I'm not meant to have secrets, but it's not like anyone knows, and even if they did, no one ranks above me so what would they do? If lower angels found out, no one important would listen, but I still don't want anyone knowing. If another Archangel found out, then I'd be in a lot of trouble. It doesn't matter though because they won't find out.

These are my thoughts, so it's not like I'm writing this down for anyone to find, but I'm so terrified someone will find out that I try not to even think about it. I can't stop thinking about it though, I just can't. I can't stop thinking about Beelzebub, and how much I love them. Fuck, why the fuck do I love them? I don't know but I do. I love the way they buzz, I love their flies, I love their voice, I love their personality, I just love them. It isn't even worth trying to describe - it would be impossible to put into words how much I love them.

I shouldn't. They are the enemy, they are the fallen. But I do. Why though? What is it about them? I should be looking forward to the war, and to killing them in the most gruesome and painful way possible, but every time I think about them being dead I shudder. I don't want Beelzebub to be gone.

Every time I see them, I am reminded of how strong these stupid feelings are. Why do feelings exist? They give people no advantage.

I should be working, getting through some of this paperwork in the lead up to Armageddon. But instead, I am simply daydreaming about the demon, someone else can do this work. There are rumours that Beelzebub is 'with' Dagon, but I don't want to believe it. It is unlikely anyway, but I am scared it is true all the same.

I jolt when Michael walks in in a hurried rush. She is probably busy, actually doing her job, imagine that, I subconsciously chuckle to myself.

"Hello." I say, hollowly, trying to hide any emotion behind my words. I ruffle around the paper on my desk and pretend I've been doing something for the last 3 hours.

"A lower angel, um, Aziraphale, was on the phone, asking to see you." She explained hastily. I raise my eyebrow, which I have practised doing for hours on end, looking at my reflection in the mirror, until I get it perfect. "He says it's urgent, and to meet him in his bookshop in London, on Earth." I noticed that she seemed pleased that she herself wasn't the one who had to go; Aziraphale is in my charge.

It is interesting how Archangels do things; certain angels are grouped together and put in separate categories which different Archangel are in charge of. I am in charge of several hundred, I think around 600? But I have less than the others - Michael has about 900 I think, so I got off lucky. It's amazing how much of a difference there is between 600 and 900; I can normally get away with not doing much work with only 600, but Michael is constantly busy checking in on her 900.

I sigh, and get up from my desk reluctantly, but I don't really mind that much since leaving gives me the perfect excuse not to work for a while.

"Ok" I say, trying to sound annoyed, and doing a good job of it, before teleporting myself to Earth.

I manage to land myself almost perfectly, just outside the shop. I let myself in, and the little bell, which I don't understand the point of, chimed happily.

"Hello Aziraphale." I say. I try to smile but it always comes across as very false, which I suppose it is.

"Hello." Aziraphale says back, as he comes out from behind a bookshelf. I will never understand why he likes books so much, they are simply material objects.