Aziraphale stared into his wineglass again. This was where it all got complicated. Questioning was so different for everyone. Falling was so different for everyone. It wasn't a matter of here is the line, toe it or you'll Fall; it was a matter of opaquely-defined "right thinking", a certain level of blind obedience, and a complete lack of creativity.
Crowley, for example, had not asked to Fall. He hadn't particularly wanted to Fall. He had, as it were, hung out with the wrong crowd. Crowley wasn't much of a demon at all. And then you had the Metatron, who was cruel while at the same time being entirely boring, and he was the height of holiness. Somewhere on this same spectrum was Aziraphale, who had uncharitable thoughts, who had doubted, who had (though he was loath to admit it) sinned, who was now human - being punished or rewarded or simply having fallen off the radar by accident, he had no way of knowing - and he was an angel, more or less.
What was fair about that?
"They are a tremendously stupid bunch, overall," he said, frowning and not really listening to himself. "They never paid attention. I understand Hell is quite the same. Just a clutch of the Fallen with the same single-minded dedication to . . . the end of everything." He glanced up at Gabriel then, and his expression of polite puzzlement was simultaneously the most and least angelic ever found on a human body. "The world is lovely, though, I don't know why they don't see it."
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Crowley, for example, had not asked to Fall. He hadn't particularly wanted to Fall. He had, as it were, hung out with the wrong crowd. Crowley wasn't much of a demon at all. And then you had the Metatron, who was cruel while at the same time being entirely boring, and he was the height of holiness. Somewhere on this same spectrum was Aziraphale, who had uncharitable thoughts, who had doubted, who had (though he was loath to admit it) sinned, who was now human - being punished or rewarded or simply having fallen off the radar by accident, he had no way of knowing - and he was an angel, more or less.
What was fair about that?
"They are a tremendously stupid bunch, overall," he said, frowning and not really listening to himself. "They never paid attention. I understand Hell is quite the same. Just a clutch of the Fallen with the same single-minded dedication to . . . the end of everything." He glanced up at Gabriel then, and his expression of polite puzzlement was simultaneously the most and least angelic ever found on a human body. "The world is lovely, though, I don't know why they don't see it."