About a year earlier…

Heaven worked slowly. Granted, Hell wasn't terribly fast either, but demons were generally more impatient. Especially demons on desk jobs who wanted to get souls sorted and their eternal damnation delivered as soon as possible so that they could at least enjoy the show. Heaven was in no hurry. Aziraphale had been very tempted to pretend nothing had happened and hope they would forget about his little poker-wielding stunt and the fact he had discorporated a Cherubim, on top of aiding a demon. The trouble was that it wasn't only himself he had to think about. It wasn't even just Crowley. If Up There decided to go after the baby (who was now named Henry simply because Molly liked the name) again they wouldn't let Aziraphale know and then bad things could happen before he even realised they were happening. So he'd gathered his courage and gone to them instead, half-wondering if they would even let him through the Gates. After all, it was possible that this had been the final straw and he had finally Fallen but the paperwork hadn't come through yet.

Once he'd gotten there and explained the purpose of his visit, he'd been put in a room and politely told to wait until a hearing could be arranged. At first he'd been too nervous to do anything but sit and chew on his lip but there was only so long one could stay consumed with worry. He'd eventually gone out of his room to take a look around. He hadn't been back here in a very long time – the Arrangement ensured there were not that many opportunities for him to be discorporated.

Heaven hadn't really changed. Aziraphale was old-fashioned by nature (pretty much regardless of what the fashions were) and usually found comfort in familiarity, but even he grudgingly admitted that part of Earth's appeal was how changeable it was. Heaven had become like one of those old photographs or souvenirs you keep as a memento. He came back periodically, looked around and thought something like 'oh, yes, this was how it used to be back then, good old days and all', and then he went back to his life on Earth. He noted – not for the first time and with a pang of guilt – that he was finding the thought of actually living in Heaven rather depressing. Even so, he did feel a bit nostalgic when he passed the Cherubim training grounds. He secretly treasured the memory of himself as a Cherubim the same way Adam's dad (the human one) liked to recount his glorious days on the football field in high-school. He'd actually rather enjoyed sword fighting as… as a sport? He didn't normally like hurting things and most of the time he preferred settling down with a good book or a good bottle of wine and good company, but every once in a while… Well, his fingers itched a little. Watching Michael's fighters train now, he had to admit he was a bit envious. Plus, there was something to be said about how pretty the armour was.

"Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale, jumped, spun around and found himself nose-to-chin with Michael himself. He took a step back so he could actually see the Archangel's face.

"Oh, hello! Hello. Long time, no see, uh, general."

"Indeed," Michael said, examining him with what looked like curiosity. "Is this your preferred form now?"

Aziraphale, who hadn't bothered to change his earthly looks when he had set off for Heaven, suddenly felt self-conscious. He smoothed down his tartan waistcoat.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. Not very, uh, glamorous, I realise but it blends in with the humans and all that…"

"It's interesting."

"Right…"

Aziraphale wasn't quite sure what that meant or what he should say about it. Fortunately, Michael spoke again before the silence became too long.

"You discorporated one of my Cherubim."

Aziraphale shuffled his feet. "Yes, uh… sorry about that."

"And I hear you are here now in defence of that same demon child you were defending that night?"

Aziraphale looked up at him, then down, then up again. "It's technically only half a demon child. Honestly, it's just a baby, Michael. Would you have really killed a baby?"

"Not before making sure it was completely evil, of course. But you were wrong to keep us from it. For all we know it may not have anything human about it at all."

"He seems pretty human to me. Well, he's inherited the snake eyes but…" Aziraphale muttered the last bit to himself.

"If that's true, then he should be removed from the influence of that demon, along with the mother. As for the fiend in question, he must be disposed of lest he attempt something similar again. Honestly, that sort of thing violates all possible... We haven't had such a scandal since that unfortunate business with the Nephilim, and the guilty parties were justly punished on that occasion."

"Oh, now, now, that's hardly necessary!" Aziraphale said quickly. "I'm fairly certain Crowley isn't planning on impregnating any more women and this time was an accident. And, look, he's always been my responsibility, I'll manage him."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "It looks pretty clear to me that you are being manipulated, Aziraphale, I would be very careful. Anyway, it will all be decided at the hearing. Your reasons aside, I was rather intrigued to hear about the incident. I know you picked up a flaming sword during the whole, ah, end-of-the-world rehearsal business but you never actually used it. This time though… With a poker?"

Aziraphale squirmed a little. "I'm afraid so, yes."

"Against five Cherubim."

"Well…"

"Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Excuse me?" it came out as a squeak, despite Aziraphale's best efforts.

Michael smirked. "In a purely friendly fight, of course. We don't want anyone to get hurt, I'm just curious. I'm rather sad I wasn't there to see you fight, Aziraphale, it's been very long since Eden."

"You want me to fight five other angels?"

"Oh, one will do."

"You don't mean… you, do you?"

Michael laughed. "Me? No, that would end rather quickly and I'd like to watch, not participate."

Aziraphale looked around for some evidence he was being pranked but, of course, angels didn't do pranks. "I'm not sure I… It was more of a one-off thing…"

"Come now, indulge me."

Michael was handing him his sword and Aziraphale felt almost sure for a moment that this was a fancy way for him to be punished. Destroyed even? Had he done anything to warrant that? He didn't think so… No. No, if that was the case they'd let him know first, in no uncertain terms. Right?

He took the sword hesitantly as Michael called over one of the angels who had been training and dismissed the rest. Aziraphale secretly hoped this one wasn't one of the ones he had fought on Earth. He wasn't sure he'd recognise them, it had all happened rather fast. Of course, angels were not supposed to be vindictive. Somehow, that thought wasn't reassuring right now. He carefully removed his jacket and waistcoat before spreading his wings. Ah, another shirt ruined.

He started the fight with the intention of losing as quickly as was politely possible without looking like he was doing it on purpose. He realised very quickly that he didn't have to pretend. The other angel was – unsurprisingly – much better. Last time he'd fought, Aziraphale had been fuelled by fear for the lives of a friend and an innocent baby. Without that, his skills dropped back down to those of an out-of-shape bookseller who'd played around with swords for a bit in his youth. Well, he could at least show off his few good moves to Michael before letting himself be defeated. He tried a few more daring tricks. Unfortunately, that seemed to get the Cherubim a little too excited. He launched an overenthusiastic attack that Aziraphale wasn't at all prepared to block or evade. There was a wet tearing sound and the Cherubim's sword lodged itself between his ribs on his right side.

"Oh, dear!" the Cherubim said. "I'm terribly sorry, I thought you'd move."

Aziraphale blinked at the blade sticking from his chest. "Ow," he said. "Ow. Ow. That's not very pleasant." He swayed a bit and was about to topple backwards before someone caught him and lowered him carefully to the ground.

"I did not anticipate this," Michael muttered irritably from where he was now kneeling beside him. "I should have put you in armour first."

"I'm afraid the armour might have been a bit tight on this body," Aziraphale said before pulling the blade out with a wince and handing it to the very awkward-looking cherubim who was stepping from foot to foot. "You'll need this back, dear, wouldn't want to lose it." Then he looked regretfully at the mess on his chest. It hurt but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. "I don't suppose this can be healed? Flaming sword wounds tend to be a bit beyond my own capabilities."

Michael lifted his bloody shirt to take a look at the wound and shrugged. "Rafael might be able to do something but surely you don't need your human body here, you could simply…"

"I am rather attached to it, thank you," Aziraphale said as firmly as he could manage.

He was always very weary of getting discorporated. The annoyingly long wait for the paperwork aside, he was vaguely afraid that one of these days he might not be given another body; that they'd just decide to keep him Upstairs.

Michael gave him a look which clearly communicated he thought Aziraphale was being foolish, but sent the cherubim to fetch Rafael anyway.

"I really didn't mean for you to get hurt," the Archangel said. "I just wanted to see you in action."

Aziraphale shrugged and tried to push himself up. "Not much of a sight, I'm afraid. Would you please…"

"Oh, of course, here… Ow!"

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry! It was a reflex. Are you all right?"

Michael spat a couple of white feathers and rubbed his nose which Aziraphale's wing had just slammed into when he had tried to prop the injured angel up and his wings had instinctively flapped. "I suppose I deserved at least that for getting you wounded."

"Oh, dear me, I didn't do it on purpose!"

Michael snorted; then outright laughed. "No, I'm sure you didn't, Aziraphale, don't look so petrified. Here we are now, lean on my shoulder. I hope this is more comfortable. As for your skills with a sword, well, you weren't too bad considering how little practice you've had. I always thought it was a pity you left us."

"Ancient history, that," Aziraphale said, trying not to be bothered by the fact that he had just nearly broken an Archangel's nose and was now dripping blood on him. "I remember you were very angry, though. Angrier than… Him, it seemed."

"It was a waste of a good warrior. Well, a decent warrior. In all honesty… it was duller without you. You always had the most peculiar ideas about things. Perhaps too peculiar sometimes but I suppose if you have managed to remain an angel for this long… We rather missed you."

"Oh… Ohhh. I never knew that."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Rafael who clicked his tongue as he got down to business.

"Well, your corporation is good as new," he declared finally. "Your angelic essence will be slightly bruised for a while."

"I feel I owe you an apology for the trouble," Michael said, helping Aziraphale up to his feet. "Will you join me for some manna while we listen to Elgar?"

Aziraphale had to clamp a hand over his mouth in order not to giggle. It sounded like something Crowley would say as a joke except Michael was perfectly serious. "Ah, Elgar, yes. Good old Elgar. Of course. Delighted."