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Oh, Buggre

Chapter Text

It was the right time. Except for ten minutes late. She was tied onto the stake, hands behind her, wood beneath her. The villagers, the people she had grown up with, played games with, seen daily, now had venom in their eyes. With torches blazing, Adultery Pulsifer slowly lowered his torch, until it came in contact with the pile of kindling. And then, she smirked. And he realised.

“Oh, Bugger”

A flash of light. A scream. A burst of pain.

And then nothing.

Then, a white light seemed to appear. Agnes couldn’t make it out, but it was there. Was this Judgment? When God weighed up your life, to see if you go to Heaven or Hell?

Agnes opened her eyes further and stood up. Behind her, was nothing but cloud. In front, huge pearly white gates stretching further than the eye could see upwards. She walked slowly, unsure of herself, towards the gates, brushing down any soot or burn marks from her dress. As she approached the gates, a tall figure was standing there, a simple white tunic on, a clipboard in hand. His aura was nearly white, hardly visible to Agnes, but he had a halo. He looked, and acted, much like a lively tour guide, or salesperson.

“Welcome…” St. Peter checked his clipboard “Agnes Nutter! So, if you just follow me, we’ll get you weighed up, and then we’ll see where you’re going, okay? Just a simple process, no need to worry!”

Agnes got the impression this was a speech he had given thousands of times before, all the words approved format.

“Peter, wait for just a moment, I pray.” Agnes started, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter looked surprised. He hadn’t been stopped in his spiel for… he had never been stopped in his spiel.

“Peter, I would like if I could request an audience with Her”

Agnes had really wanted to meet Her. She was a mythical being in the sky, and not many thought She existed. But Agnes knew. She had prophecies with Her. And if Agnes had prophecies, She must be real.

Peter chuckled.

“Agnes, I am sorry, no one can see Her. I mean, I haven’t even seen Her! Why would She see a mere human!” He grinned a smug grin, and turned away from her.

She was appalled. St Peter was supposed to be a decent angel! Not a smug man!

“Peter, I must insist- ”

Suddenly, a bright light ( brighter than Heaven already was ) crept its way over Agnes’ skin, sending goosebumps shooting upwards, pushing against the skin. Peter seemed to shrink slightly, knowing exactly what this light meant.

Hesitantly, he stood up straight, cleared his throat and brushed down his immaculate white tunic, and turned towards the light, which was slightly angled towards the pair.

“ L-lord, what a pleasure, I was just showing a new soul arou-“
He was cut short by the Lord’s booming voice, a female one, with a touch of kindness.

“Peter, why did you deny Agnes a meeting with me?”

Agnes blushed slightly, the use of her name by such a power seeming like a compliment.

The ex-disciple relaxed slightly, but his shoulders were still tense.

“I-I did not think you would want b-bothered, my Lord!”

The booming voice came again.

“Send her up” And the light vanished. Peter rolled his shoulders, loosening up. He took a deep breath in, and about. Agnes stood, waiting for Peter to regain himself. He closed his eyes, and took another breath. Then, he spun round, still holding his clipboard, and frantically writing something. Then, he tore off a piece of paper from his clipboard, and held it out for Agnes. She took it, and read the writing. It was a language she could not understand. All symbols and lines, similar to Hieroglyphs.

“ Head up that staircase”, he pointed to a small spiral staircase which had miraculously just appeared next to the pair, “ and if anyone questions you, just show them this piece of paper, and they’ll direct you to where you need to go”. The angel smiled, not an ounce of niceness in it, and gestured for her to ascend the staircase.

“Thank thou, Peter” as she put one foot on the staircase, and the next, lifting up her petticoats to stop them catching on the white iron beneath her.

In a short minute, she seemed to be in a office building, much like a human office building in the 21st Century. White dividers separated desks, an angel sitting at each, immaculate and white, typical of Heaven.

No one noticed the witch, until a grey suited, Oxford-shoed angel approached her.

“Um, excuse me?” He had a very broad American accent, which was a surprise, she felt most angels would have a English accent. He smiled, flashing unnaturally pearly white teeth, which showed off his unnatural violet eyes, “ Can I help you?”

She smiled. She knew exactly who this was.

“Ah, Angel Top, of course, I hath been sent by Peter, with this here note”

She held out the note, the paper blending in with the surroundings. He snatched it out her hand, and read over it, his eyes devouring each weird symbol. As he reached the end, he went wide-eyed.

“Good Lord..” he muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat, and smiled a fake smile at her. She made a mental note to never trust a smiling angel.

“Well, Ms Nutter, I’ll take you up! No idea why She would be interested with a human, to be honest”
He said this with a completely straight face, not realising he was offending the witch more and more. He started walking along the line of workers, each angel peaking out to see what was happening. Some were shocked, some were pleased, and one angel, a balding angel wearing beige, just looked plain confused.

They reached a lift, silver with all white buttons. He pressed a button, which opened the doors. She stepped in, and smiled at the angel. He smiled back, and handed her the note.

“Good luck, Ms Nutter. Most humans haven’t come back down from-“ he gestured up with his hand, and mouthed ‘God’. The doors slid shut, and Gabriel put two thumbs up as he slipped out the prophetess’ gaze. When the doors had finally shut, he sighed a sigh of relief.


Agnes composed herself in the lift. She was meeting the Almighty. God. God Herself. She took a breath, and ran her hands over her face.
“Good Lord, what hath I got mineself into” she muttered to herself, as the lift reached its final destination.

She stepped out, to be met with a mahogany panelled office, a stark contrast to the rest of Heaven. A small couch sat next to the door Agnes had entered through, a rich burgundy colour, the cushions a little misshapen and oddly stuffed, but in a charming way. Two bookcases sat parallel each other, pushed against the side walls, stuffed with old and new books, torn books, pristine copies of books, every kind of book known to Heaven. A Persian rug graced the floor, the patterns intricate and twisting in and out.

On the rug, rested a modest mahogany desk, the legs sturdy, a small pattern carved into the wood. At the desk, a figure sat, a figure Agnes could not exactly work out the shape of, and then she could. A normal female body, with near white short hair sticking out stylishly over Her head, a Her hands clasped and resting on the desk, and a smile from ear to ear on her face.

“Agnes. How nice to meet you”

Chapter Text

Agnes inched over to the desk, so slightly intimidated now. She was slightly regretting this meeting, but she was adamant to meet with Her.

“How nice to meet thee too” a small smile crept over her lips, as she sat down in a newly miracled chair, a tan leather, oddly stuffed armchair, with sturdy dark wood feet.

“Well, Agnes. Any reason you wanted to meet with me?”

Agnes shifted slightly, and smoothed her petticoats, not making eye contact. God seemed to have a piercing look, as if She could see every thought ( She could, but that’s neither here nor there). Agnes looked up at Her again, and clasped her hands in front of her, and laid them on the desk.

“Well, really, I wanted to ask thee, well…”

She trailed off, not sure if to ask it. The Almighty stood up, and walked round the desk, coming to the side Agnes was sitting at. She perched Herself on the desk, more leaning than sitting, still asserting Her dominance by sitting over the witch, but a friendly smile crept on Her lips.

“Well, I was wondering, why did thee give me the power of prophecy?” She spoke softly, not wanting to upset the entity. After all, she was the Lord.

“Well, Agnes”, She shifted, finding a comfortable position, “I created a few people, throughout history that could see the future. Some were, well, inaccurate to say the least.”
She chuckled, seemingly laughing at Her own creations.

“Then, we have you. The only person, so far, to have completely accurate prophecies.”

She placed Her left hand on Agnes’ clasped hands, the cool feel to Her skin slightly startling Agnes, and making her blink, seemingly exclaiming with her eyes.

“ You slipped through the cracks, Agnes. You were an exception.” She smiled gently at the prophetess’ face of confusion, and stood up properly, taking Her hand off Agnes’, and walking back round to Her leather-clad office chair, the seams coming apart, stuffing starting to pour out.

“But, how did thee not notice later on? When I was down on Earth?” Agnes was puzzled to say the least, at how She would not notice. Her, God Herself, did not notice her? It made her feel small, smaller than she could comprehend. Her thoughts were still milling around in her brain when She spoke again.

“ I did, of course I did. But, I thought it would be fun, to see how it played out. If mankind would listen to you.” Agnes breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t just another human.

“ Oh, well. That maketh me feel a little better then.”

Agnes paused. She had so many more questions. All she could think about though, was how exquisite God was. How Her calm voice seemed to stop time itself. How Her face was kind, yet harsh if it wanted to.

“ Anything else, Agnes?”

Agnes pushed herself out her own thoughts, and realised she had been daydreaming, staring at a small square of the desk in front of her.

“No, no, nothing at all” she smiled, and plastered a small smile on her face.

“Are you sure?”
Her smile seemed to become a worried face in the blink of an eye.

“I am sure, doth not worry.”

“ Good.”

“Well, I guess I will depart in patience, my Lord”

Agnes pushed herself out the chair, and turned towards the door. She hadn’t noticed, as she had her back to them on her way in, two pictures either side of the door, one seemingly a human’s depiction of Hell, the other a human’s Heaven. Agnes smiled to herself, and walked confidently to the door, not looking back until she reached the heavy door, the brass doorknob slightly stiff in her hand. She turned the knob, and pulled the door open. Before she departed, she heard Her speak. One word.

She turned back to the Lord, sitting at the desk.

The Almighty smiled.

“See you soon.”

Agnes was taken aback. The Lord, wanted to see her again? And soon? She mustered as much confidence as she could, and spoke shyly, “See thee soon.”, as she slipped out the door and clicked the door shut, and striding into the lift.
In the dark office, the Almighty uttered eight words to Herself.

“Well done, God, you bloody cocked that up!”

Chapter Text

“Well done, God, you bloody cocked that up!”


The Almighty laid Her head in Her hands, and sighed a deep sigh. She didn’t need to breath, but this instance, She wanted to.


She stared at the doorway. She had seen Agnes. Watched her grow up. Seen each prophecy, every save, every time the witch-finder had pricked her, under God’s will, of course. God hated that phrase, “under God’s will”, it was wrong in so many ways. Horrible people had used it throughout history to justify their actions, and some of the worst outcomes had become of it, and witchfinders were the worst of them all.


She covered Her face with Her hands, and let out a slight scream, before a knock came at the door. She took a deep breath (again, She didn’t need it) , and composed Herself.

“Come in”

The Oxford-shoed angel opened the door, wide, and strode in, a serious smile plastered on his face.

“My Lord.” He bowed slightly, “I was just wondering if, you do not mind, what happened to that witch I sent up? Alice Netter?”


“Agnes Nutter.” The angel nodded in understanding, “And I sent her back down to the Souls Department. Why, Gabriel, is that the wrong thing to do?” Sarcasm was scattered on every syllable.

The angel shuddered at his name being used by God Herself, the tone of sarcasm obvious.

“N-no Lord, not at all!” He flashed a whiter-than-white smile, and moved his gaze to the floor.

“Good.” She hesitated. Would it be too obvious? If She made special arrangements for Agnes?

“And, Gabriel?”

He looked up.

“Can you make sure she has her Earth home up here? Just for… reasons.”

The angel looked puzzled, but did not want to disagree with his boss, not at all. Disagreeing with God, for an angel, was a big no-no.

He flashed his grin again, and gathered as much positivity as possible, “Yes, of course! I’ll start the paperwork soon! Is that everything, Lord?”

She ran over everything She had been thinking about.

“No, nothing.”

“I’ll be off then!” Gabriel said, excitedly, turning the brass doorknob, and swinging the door open, walking through, and catching the door, just before it slammed against the frame.


She walked out of the lift, and took a deep breath. She had survived a meeting with God. The Almighty. The Lord Above. She took a second step, and sat down in a white plastic chair that was lined up against the light coloured wall, reminiscent of a doctor’s waiting room, although Agnes didn’t make this connection, being from the 17th Century and all.

After a couple minutes of breathing slowly, and running over the conversation in her head, questioning every answer she had gave, a soft ping drew her attention. She looked up, and saw the Archangel Gabriel step out of the lift, halo only visible to her.

He took a small step towards her, not wanting to crowd her.

“Agnes Nutter, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Aye, that is I” she smoothed her skirt, making herself look presentable.

“Well, Agnes,” he spoke with a tone of a salesperson, very similar to Peter’s tone, “ Why don’t we get you set up in the Souls Department, yes?”

She stood up, facing the angel.

“Of course, Angel!” A smile came to her face, a smile with no feeling.

“And, I’ve had a special request for you, from someone! Just to have your Earthly home, nothing too special…”

Agnes knew exactly who the request had come from, considering Gabriel had come from Her office. The fact She wanted her to have her little cottage, with its dark but cosy interior and small fire, was comforting in a way. It did bring to her mind, though, why She Herself had requested it.

“Oh, lovely!” Agnes exclaimed, as she followed the striding angel, through the offices again. Another angel stopped Gabriel, glanced at Agnes, their eyes glaring straight through her, with a slightly soft touch. The patches of gold seemed to light up as they talked to Gabriel, glowing across their face, accentuating the ruffles on the collar of their shirt. The ethereal beings nodded to each other, and parted ways, Gabriel striding on, the other heading to their desk.

Agnes, following the angel, walked through what seemed a maze of offices, hallways and for a moment, what seemed like a hospital wing, but all the beds were chairs, and rather than medicines, an array of honey-coloured liquids were stored in small cabinets next to the chairs.

Finally, they arrived at the Souls Department. Agnes knew this, as the sense of auras seemed to heighten, and her brain was busy trying to figure out the thousands of new moods that had become available. She blinked them away, pushing them to the back of her mind the way she had trained herself to.

“Well, Agnes, we will just get you checked in, and then I’ll show you to your cottage, okay?” He had switched his tone to a parent speaking to a child, and she did not enjoy it one bit.

“Thank thee very much, Angel Top” she spoke through gritted teeth.

Gabriel approached another angel, standing at a desk, typing on a computer. The angel was a balding angel, wearing a beige overcoat. Agnes had seen him before.

“Sandalphon, can you look up an Agnes Nutter?”

Sandalphon typed away on the computer, “1656?”

“That’s the one.”

The angel typed away again, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen, not looking at the witch or the other angel.

“Section Theta Seven, block 24.”

Gabriel smiled, yet again, “ Thanks, Sandalphon.” He just nodded in reply, and picked up a pile of paperwork that didn’t seem to be there a few seconds ago.

Gabriel gestured at Agnes to follow him, as they walked down a small hall, Greek symbols on each door. He opened a small door with a gold, small θ symbol on the door. As he opened the door, he reached a broom cupboard-sized room, with a silver panel of buttons.

“Well, Agnes, this is where I leave you,” he pointed to a button, around halfway down the panel, “That’s your place. Just hit the button, and you’ll be transported there!”

He still spoke with a false niceness, but Agnes appreciated how much he had done for her, even if he had been very condescending.

“Thank thee Verye much, Angel.”. She strode to the panel, as much as she could in such a small space, and positioned her finger on the button. The angel went to step out the door, and just as he went to close the door, she called after him.


He poked his head back round the door, a fake grin plastered on, only being conjured up a couple of minutes ago.


“I hope thee and the Prince art very happy together.”, she slyly grinned, before pressing the button. As she was pulled away from the small room, a small tug behind her naval, the last thing she saw and heard, was the ethereal being blushing, and calling out after her.

“How do you - Oh Lord!”

And the next thing she knew, she was breathing the air of the English countryside, the damp dewy grass beneath her feet, and the sound of birds going about their own business.

She opened her eyes slowly, her pupils dilating with the reaction to the sunlight.

A small cottage, smoke pouring out the chimney, candle lit in the window. The thatched roof was intact, the small flowerpots on the window sill were lined up, each petal impeccably coloured.


Chapter Text

He straightened his bowtie, taking a minute to compose himself. He was going up to Heaven again. The first time in 100 years. And he was nervous.

“Angel! For Satan’s sake, just go!”

The demon sat on the seat of the Bentley, door open, sitting sideways on the leather. He was encouraging his husband, but anyone who had noticed them would have called it shouting. Aziraphale, at this moment in time, was staring up at the huge office building that contained the entrance to Heaven, rocking on his heels.

The ethereal being turned to face the red head, a little irritated.

“Dear, I’m a little nervous, for good reason!”

The demon rolled his eyes, and snaked his way out the car, shutting the door and locking it with a click of his hand. He strode up to the angel, and placed an arm around his waist, and planted a kiss on his porcelain cheek.

“I’ll come up with you, then? I’m sure Gabriel will be delighted to see me!” He exclaimed, winking at his partner.

“Oh Crowley!” He hesitated. It would be good with Crowley. More enjoyable, “Fine, but won’t you get burned? Consecrated ground and such?”

His mind flashed back to 1941, watching Crowley basically play hopscotch in that church.

The occult being gestured away with his hand, “No, Angel, I’m sure I’ll be fine. And if not, you’ll just have to carry me, won’t you?” He winked, and Aziraphale blushed.

“My dear boy, stop it!” A hand playfully batted the soft leather of Crowley’s coat, and then it moved in front of the demon, palm outstretched, fingers open. Crowley slipped his cold hand in, intertwining the fingers. The odd couple, which the passers by on the street miraculously did not notice, stepped into the mirrored building, taking the escalator upwards, an escalator which, to any mortal, looked like it went to the Heavens.

Of course, it did.


She paced Her office.

Back and forward, and again, and again. She had been pacing for three Earth days, and there was no sign of Her stopping. Her rug had started to wear in the middle, and some of Her plants, mostly orchids, had started drooping, the edges turning a slight brown. Usually, She would sing to them, but hadn’t in the last few days, rather turning Her attention to the witch that had met with Her.

“Agnes. Agnes. Agnes, Agnes, Agnes.”

Her eyes lit up, and if Agnes had been there, she would have sworn in Her aura, a lightbulb was floating above Her head.



As the couple reached the top of the escalator, the Archangel met them.

“Ah, Azirapahle!” The fake smile returned, “ How nice to see you! And -“

He glanced the demon up and down, and sneered, knowing he couldn’t really touch the demon after Armageddon’t.


“Hello, Gabriel! Just thought I’d accompany my husband up to his meeting.”

Crowley started Gabriel dead in the eyes, and the principality gulped, and squeezed the demon’s hand , as if to say ‘dear, please’.

The grey-clad being turned his attention back to his fellow being, “Well, Azirapahle, actually, we’ve had a new arrival in Heaven! A -“ He checked his violet clipboard, “ Agnes Nutter? Was wondering if you could settle her in, go over the rules etcetera. I’m up to my eyes in paperwork, Uriel just handed me a stack and -“

He was cut off with the angel agreeing with him, trying to keep calm, after hearing his most sought after book author’s name.

“Yes! Yes, Gabriel, I’ll get on that!” He flashed a nervous smile.

“Brilliant! She’s in Section Theta Seven, block 24. I’ll leave you to it.” He flashed a pearly white grin, and walked away, still glancing at the demon attached to Aziraphale’s hand.

Azirapahle turned to Crowley.

“ My dear, do you know who Agnes Nutter is?!” The angel was practically jumping.

Crowley just rolled his eyes, a flat tone entering his speech.

“No, Angel, please tell me all about her, as we walk to meet her.”

Crowley knew exactly who she was, but secretly, he was happy his angel was happy, and just wanted to hear his voice.

The angel started walking towards a large space, a big entrance way with a desk to the left hand side, and started to talk non-stop about Agnes Nutter, born 1600, exploded 1656.

She was sitting at Her desk, frantically writing, Her neat but also messy cursive looping up and down the page. She was using a quill, which She found the most comfortable of all the writing implements, and the dark green ink on the parchment seemed to echo back from a time before now. When She was finished, the parchment was sealed up, and a candle was slowly burnt, melting wax onto the page. Her hand wandered aimlessly along the desk, all focus on the letter, until She found the red handle of the stamp.

She grabbed it, and pressed it in, at the exact moment it was needed, holding it down to make sure the wax had dried.

When it was lifted, a small circle of thorns and olive leaves encircled a dove, pressed into the deep purple wax.

She smiled to Herself, the first time She had since the Garden of Eden.

Chapter Text

Agnes was already bored. Which was something, for a prophetess. She usually had a million prophecies, swirling around in her head, but today? Nothing.

The other reason was that she was in Heaven. She didn’t want to summon the Archangel Gabriel, in case he was busy, but she had so many questions, so many she had started to write them down, for fear of forgetting them.

She would go for a jog, but the section she had been put in was quite small, and she found this out quite quickly, as when she left the cottage, the grass only extended a few metres before she hit an invisible barrier, one she could only feel when she outstretched her hands.

So, she sat in the cottage, at her small table, pieces of parchment and quills strewn across the wood, a few piles of paper bound together with string sitting on the left hand side. She was at a loss of what to do, so just sat, and wrote questions when they came to her. The hours seemed to tick by so slowly, and she had actually forgotten what day it was.

On the second, day, or what she thought was the second day, as there was no sunrise or sunset, just a permanent noon day sun, she heard a voice. A voice that called out her name, and seemed to come from outside the small cottage. She looked up through the small grimy windows, but couldn’t see anyone.

She stood up, her arthritis reminding her of how human she still was, and walked over to the door. The voice sounded male, but with a soft afterthought, and the footsteps that accompanied it seemed to be nearly on the doorstep. Undoing the latch, she swung the door open, to be met with a chubby man, standing at about her height, dressed in head-to-toe cream coloured clothing, except for the bowtie and waistcoat, the former patterned with a light tartan, and the latter a light brown colour. Attached to his waist, via an arm snaked around him, was a red-haired man, Agnes could only assume was a demon. With the round shaded glasses, black suit-jacket and skinny black jeans, she knew exactly who this couple were, even if she had never set eyes upon them til this moment.

“Ah, Angel! And Serpent, of course!” She smiled at the angel, who seemed incredibly overwhelmed, and the demon had to give him a quick poke to make him come to his senses.

“Ms Nutter, my word! I cannot believe I am meeting you! In the flesh!” He exclaimed on each word, tripping over himself to talk to her. Crowley just rolled his eyes, and looked apologetically at the witch. She looked at him, then back at the angel, who was now currently blushing furiously.

She stepped aside, gesturing for the pair to come inside. “Please, my dears, come in, sit thineself down.” She calmly spoke, as the angel rushed in, nearly tripping over the doorframe. She just stifled a giggle, and the demon followed the angel, a little more relaxed, giving Agnes a look that said ‘I’m sorry, he’s really anxious to meet you, I’ll try to calm him down’. She nodded in response, as the demon stepped inside, and she shut the door, flicking the latch on, so that they wouldn’t be disturbed by any nosy angels. She knew what Aziraphale’s relationship was with Heaven, she had prophecies on everyone and everything, of course, but had chosen to keep some out her book.

She turned to the main room of her cottage, the table she had been writing at standing in the middle of it, a couch with a matching armchair, complete with a small coffee table in one corner, a new addition that she had found when the angel Gabriel had dumped her in her new home. She gestured for the pair to sit on the sofa, the angel sitting straight up, posture completely perfect in every way. The occult being sunk into the cushions, legs crossing over at the knee, one hand on his kneecap, the other held out for his angel to hold.

“Tea?” She said, moving over to the kitchenette type area at the end of the room.

“That would be splendid, thank you!” The ethereal being replied, smiling somehow wider than he already was.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, and Crowley gave it a squeeze, meeting the angel’s gaze for a few moments, warning him to calm down. Aziraphale just nodded, and grinned again.

The tea was made, and the tray was set, even though Agnes didn’t remember even having a tray in her cottage. A lot of things happened in Heaven without people actually doing them, miraculously, and no one seemed to have an explanation for them. She also made herself a mug of peppermint tea, the normal tea not to her taste. She placed the pot and the mug on the tray, along with two other mugs, and carried it over to the eager angel and laid back demon, the angel still holding his beloved’s hand.

“Well, Angel,”she placed two mugs in front of the pair, and poured the tea, “what is the meaning of thine visit?”

Aziraphale rushed to answer “Ah, well, Ms Nutter, I was coming up to Heaven for a check up, and Gabriel mentioned that you were here, and he asked me to come and check up on you, go over the rules, and -“

He had said this all without a breath, and stopped when Crowley cut in, a smile starting to rise on his lips, the coolest tone he could muster (which was his normal tone, if you asked him, because he was cool)

“I’m sorry, Agnes, Zira is extremely excited to meet you. He doesn’t stop talking about your book, trust me, the amount of times -“

Aziraphale blushed, and squeezed his beloved’s hand.

“Crowley!” was all he could say through gritted teeth, and then smiling at the witch, who was now sitting back in the armchair, and grinning over her tea, a sparkle in her eye. She sat forward, placing the cup on the table.

“Well, angel, of course I know how fascinated thee art with my prophecies. After all, I hath seeth more than I hath put to paper.”

She flashed a smile at Crowley, who was having to also watch his angel, the angel that was, at this point, nearly jumping with joy.

“Really?! Good Lord, Ms Nutter -“

She stopped him with a hand. “Agnes, to thee.”

He blushed even more than he was, which was hardly possible, and continued.

“Agnes, I cannot believe, my dear woman, that you would even pay attention to me, never mind have more prophecies about me!” The angel was on the literal edge of his seat, and Crowley was having to slightly stretch to keep a hold of his hand. He just rolled his eyes at Agnes, another apology.

“Of course,I did, angel,” she picked up the tea again, relaxing back into the chair, “after all, thee and thine partner did stop Armageddon.”

The angel blushed even more, and Crowley seemed to soften slightly, looking at his husband, so pleased he was happy.

“Oh, my dear woman!” Was all Aziraphale managed, He was literally bursting with excitement. The occult being seemed to be excited as well, but more for his angel than anything. He seemed to be quietly interested, but letting his husband have his excitement.

“Well, Angel,” she stood up, walking over to the table in the middle of the room, picking up a bound stack of papers, “ these are my new prophecies. If thee art so inclined, thee can hath them.” She knew he could not resist.

Aziraphale’s jaw hit the floor. He was absolutely shocked. He was to get her new prophecies. Prophecies that were rarer than any book he has in his Soho shop.

“Sweetheart. Sweetheart!” Crowley took his spare hand, and pinched the soft flesh of the back of Aziraphale’s hand, making him exclaim slightly and come to his senses. Crowley, yet again, looked apologetically at Agnes.

Agnes walked back over the the pair, and, with a small smirk, handed over the stack of papers. The angel held out his hand, and carefully took the prophecies, each finger carefully placed on the parchment, trying not to damage the predictions with his hand. As she let go of them, he slowly brought the pile towards him, still in a state of awe. He was like this for a few minutes, just staring, until Crowley spoke to the witch, who was sitting back down, not being able to bear another second of the silence that they were all basking in, but at the same time, not wanting to break his angel out of his bliss.

“ Thanks, Agnes, for that. Means I won’t get cuddles out of his for a few days, he’ll be reading that so closely, his nose’ll get covered in ink.” He grinned, a little unnatural, but directed towards his angel. Aziraphale was not even acknowledging the pair, just staring at the book. Finally, a squeeze brought him out his trance, and he beamed at the witch.

“Oh, Agnes, thank you so much, my dear, I cannot believe you would intrust me with this, thank you ever so much, I will take good care of them!” His words all came out as one, as he stumbled over them, not sure what to do next. Luckily, the witch just smiled, kind eyes that seemed to show how much she trusted him, even though she had only met him in the flesh once, that moment being now.

And at that moment, unexpectedly, a small letter materialised on the doorstep. Agnes noticed it out the corner of her eye, and made her way over to it. The angel was too consumed in the prophecies, and the demon was too consumed in looking at his angel, for the pair to notice,

She bent down, picking up the letter, knowing exactly who it was from. She had seen prophecies, after all, and the seal on the letter confirmed it. Crowley, being the inquisitive being that he is, realised after a second that their host had left her chair, and he followed her with his gaze to the door.

She wondered what it said. But she daren’t open it.

Crowley saw the seal, as she turned the letter over and over in her hands, and he went wide-eyed. He knew exactly what that seal meant, considering he had found a letter, nearly identical to that, laying on his table, the day after Armageddon. He had nearly thrown himself in the deepest pit that day, when he saw that.

“Angel, Angel…” Crowley shook Aziraphale’s shoulder softly, keeping his eyes on the witch. Aziraphale came out of his trance for a second, to spot the prophetess, turning over the letter in her hands. He had also received a letter that cursed Sunday night, and was extremely familiar with her seal.

“ Oh Good Lord…” was all Aziraphale could muster, so overwhelmed with the situation. They both knew that, when She sent notes, it was best to leave the reader to read it themselves, and mull it over. They locked eyes, occult being suggesting that they depart, without so much of a word to communicate. The angel just nodded, giving clarification to his partner’s unspoken suggestion.

They stood up, approaching the witch, who was now looking with a soft state of confusion at the letter. As they approached, they offered their apologies, and good luck with the letter, which, they did not mention by name.

As the pair were hurriedly exiting, the demon ran back a couple paces, to say a couple words to the witch.

“Agnes, if, um” , he pointed upwards, “ gives you any trouble, just call on us. I’ll talk to Her.” What he really meant what that he would try his best, but would probably get nowhere. He didn’t know that Agnes knew this, but offered it anyway.

She smiled, smile lines lighting up her face, a kind tone entering her voice.

“Thank thee very much, my dear. And Serpent?” She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “ Good luck with the child”.

Crowley just looked in confusion, and went to say something, and then just sighed.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out what that means, huh?”

She just smiled in response, and whispered a small “ Aye”, before the demon chuckled, and ran to catch up with his husband, who was waiting for him a few metres away. She waved after the pair, who joined hands, and walked off through the seemingly invisible door to exit her section.

Closing the heavy door, she focused on the letter. What could She want? Was She angry? Wanting to see her again?

She sat down at the messy table, taking a deep breath in.

And she cracked the seal open.

Chapter Text

She read the words again. Really? She read them again, the green ink now familiar with her eyes.

‘ I would like to see you again’

But why? Agnes pondered hundreds of questions in her head.

When Aziraphale and Crowley had left, Agnes had bid them good bye, and then cracked open the letter. A letter she expected to say horrible things, and then kick her out of Heaven.

It didn’t. It spoke soft words, carefully chosen words, and stated the seven words the witch was currently pondering over, at the bottom on the note, just before the signature.

She had thought about every possible outcome, she had scanned all her old prophecies for any hint of this, but nothing.

She sat on her couch, feeling slightly defeated. She needed time.


Meanwhile, in a Soho bookshop, an angel was glued to his chair, sitting at his desk, reading what seemed a pile of loose papers. His husband, a demon, was currently trying to get his attention, as he was desperate for cuddles.

“Angel!” He let out an exasperated sigh, before collapsing on the couch.

The angel finished a page, and turned around, “Yes dear?”

The demon was surprised to be talked to, at this point. It had been twelve hours since the ethereal had muttered a word to anyone, never mind his husband.

“Angel, you’ve been stuck in those prophecies for so long!”

Aziraphale did realise how long he had been sitting there. After all, his cocoa had grown cold. He gestured for the demon to sit with him, “ Come here, my dear boy”, and the demon quickly, like a starving man to a feast, hurried to sit in his angel’s lap, curling up, and quickly transforming into his smaller form of a red bellied snake, and brought his tongue to Aziraphale’s chin, tickling it.

“ Crowley!”, he chuckled, grabbing a blanket that had been resting on the back of the chair, and holding it out for his snake to crawl into. He did, and Aziraphale rearranged him onto his lap, tucked into the blanket. Crowley seemed happy with this setup, and snuggled up, as Aziraphale read.


Agnes had made it back up to outside Her office. She was pacing the white-tiled floor, squeaking shoes making quite a sound on the floor.

A click was heard from the heavy wooden door, which was its original wood colour, a huge contrast from the doctor’s waiting room-feel of this part of Heaven.

The door was pulled open, to reveal Her. She had slightly longer hair, now tickling the nape of Her neck, and Her white shirt and blue jeans, a look reminiscent of a 21st Century “soccer mom”, seemed to complement Her gentle curves. Or at least, that’s what Agnes thought.

“Agnes.” Her voice was still kind, but definitely hadn’t been a few seconds ago. A smile graced Her features, showing off slightly crooked teeth, just less than white.

She stood up, brushing down the dress she had been wearing since her explosion. She felt no need to change, and with no night as such in Heaven, she never had went to bed, and somehow, she didn’t feel like sleeping.

She smiled, stepping towards the open door, the door that the Almighty had disappeared from, into Her office.

Agnes took a step inside, and was greeted with the familiar heavy furniture, and the calm, slow atmosphere some would find in a library, or a small bookshop, but a new element was in the room. Or, at least, a scent that Agnes hadn’t noticed the last time she was in the dark room. Vanilla, coffee and sea breeze graced her nostrils, familiar yet distant.

She walked across the room, following Her, who, this time, did not sit at Her desk, but one of the couches that had been pushed up against the wall the last time she visited, but now were placed in the centre of the room, the duplicate facing the other.

“Agnes, please.” She gestured to the couch opposite, sitting down. The witch obeys, running hands down the back of her skirt before neatly placing herself on the soft cushions , perching on the edge.

God just chuckled, and sat back, sinking deep into the cushions.

Agnes just showed her a face of confusion. “ What.?”

God just smiled to Herself, “You remind me of Aziraphale.”

She smiled, remembering her visitors, “Well, he is a wonderful angel.”, she said stiffly, not trusting at all.

She seemed to react to this, and sat forward on Her couch.

“Agnes, I wanted to see you again. I wanted to discuss things.”

She froze. Things? What kind of things? Hopefully nothing that would get her in trouble.

“I was wondering if I could see your prophecies. Try and correlate them with the Plan”

Of course, the Plan. It was called the Great Plan, the Ineffable Plan, or just the Plan. No matter what you called it, it didn’t change what it was. God’s Plan.

She responded to the look of puzzlement on the prophetess’ face.

“I Plan big events. Not tiny events in each human’s life.”

God seemed to soften, and sat up slightly, mirroring the witch. Agnes, on the other hand, did not move from her position. She stopped the whirring in her brain, each thought spinning past, and collected herself with a breath.

“So, thee want to seeth my prophecies? For what reason?”

The Almighty squirmed in Her seat. Agnes marked this as a little unusual for a holy entity, to be unsure of Herself.

“I just wanted to make sure I have all my bases covered.” A smile graced Her lips, those pale red lips that seemed to have the entire world resting on them, waiting for all the secrets to be spilled.

“But surely, if thee hath wanted my prophecies, thee could hath just looked in on them ? Being All-Knowing and such.”

Agnes shifted slightly. Something seemed wrong. The Lord just straightened Herself up, and teased Her lip with Her teeth, a habit that seemed to be brought about by nerves, considering the last time She had done this particular thing back in 1656. If you asked Her why, She would have denied it even happened.

“Yes, well, it’s all just , you know , just in case” , Lips curled up slightly, a grin playing upon the soft skin.

“Of course.”

God’s eyes seemed to light up, a soft gold coming from them.


“Of course!” Agnes let the grin she had kept pent up cascade onto her lips, and the happiness spread to the rest of her body, obvious in her now relaxed body language.

The Lord also seemed more relaxed, the lip free from the grating of Her incisors, still maintaining Her composure.

“Brilliant. Would you mind coming, shall we say, every week? Just to-“ She hesitated, “Keep up to speed with everything?”

Agnes just smiled, and tucked a stray hair from her face behind her ear, “ Of course”

Chapter Text

And so, Agnes and God met every week. And every week, God would invite her in, pour a cup of peppermint tea for her (Agnes had never asked Her for it, but she seemed to want one every time she walked into the cosy office), and after chatting for a couple minutes, they would get down to business, Agnes bringing out, from a small satchel, a bundle of papers, and the Lord opening a drawer in Her desk, and finding a red and black striped folder, each section marked with dates up until 12019, and setting it on the desk.

Then, Agnes would read out prophecies that she had written that week, and the Almighty would flick through the folder, checking key dates, events, and people.

As soon as She found a match, a small smile would come to Her face, and She would touch Agnes’ relevant prophecy, and click Her fingers, and the prophecy would be replicated, on a small business-card sized piece of parchment, corners slightly burnt.

And She would smile, and Agnes would smile back, eyes showing the utmost respect for Her, looking at the sly grin as She slid the new-found prophecy in the folder, pinned in placed with a gold paperclip.

Agnes was seeing a new side to God now, a softer side, that was echoed in the crows’ feet around Her eyes, the way She hesitated before asking Agnes anything, the quiet as She thought things over.

A few months into this routine, and both beings had settled into it, both looking forward to the company each week. During a meeting in the third month ( Agnes has lost count, but the Almighty was keeping a close eye on the time spent together) , they had went through the usual routine,God appearing at the door, asking Agnes in, Agnes following Her in, now dressed in a blue version of her dress, bodice slightly slacker than before. Then, God poured the tea, chatted slightly, and then they settled to get down to business. As they were attending said business, the Lord stopped Agnes, straight after reading out her fourth prophecy, quite abruptly. Agnes looked up from where she was sitting, across from the Almighty at Her desk.

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you come and sit round next to me?” God’s shoulder seemed to tense up , “ I mean, easier to see each other’s work, and such”

God bit Her lip again, slight nerves returning to Her corporation. Agnes thought this most unusual for Her, considering She was All-Knowing and such.

Agnes just grinned slightly, and nodded, moving her papers across the desk, and walking round the desk. God clicked Her fingers, a chair identical to Her’s appearing slightly to the side of Her, sturdy feet gripping the floor, leather tightly pulled over a wood frame, the fabric on the arms slightly frayed. Agnes pulled it out, the wheels squeaking slightly on the wooden floor, and sat down, skirt and layers of petticoats slightly hindering her, but nevertheless, she pulled the chair back into the desk, quite comfortable now.

And they continued, Agnes reading out a prophecy at a time, and the Lord flicking through the folder, a folder that had got considerably thicker over the last few weeks.

When Agnes has reached the end of her list of prophecies, she gathered up her papers, thanked God, and God thanked her back, and then exited the office, flashing a grin at the depictions of Hell and Heaven She had placed each side of the door.

God laid Her head in Her hands, and let out an audible sigh.

The next time Agnes came to the office, she had changed into modern clothing, a more relaxed earthy green maxi skirt, a black t-shirt with a small logo on the left breast pocket, and a simple chain round her neck, a small pendant hanging from it, her satchel hanging off one shoulder.

God opened the door, and popped Her head round.

“Agnes-“ She stopped Herself, eyeing up the witch’s new clothes, trying to juggle which style She suited more, “Come inside”

As the witch entered, shutting the door carefully, God poured her tea for her.

“I have got to say, you look wonderful.” She handed the prophetess the mug.

Agnes blushed slightly, “Thank thee very much. A nice change from tight bodices and such.” She took a sip of the tea, knowing that it would be the exact right temperature. It always was.

“Well, shall we get down to work?” She sat down at Her desk, a cup of half-drunk milky tea in Her hand, set down on a flowery coaster. This was a little unusual. They usually had a little longer conversation, but Agnes brushed this thought away, and sat down in the chair next to the Almighty. The chair seemed to now be a permanent fixture in the room, a light coat of dust settled on the legs of it, suggesting it hadn’t been moved.

“Aye, of course.”, she softly spoke, as she walked round the desk to sit in the chair, setting down her cup on a coaster which seemed to not have existed a couple seconds previous.

The Lord brought out Her folder, and laid it down on the desk, running Her hand along the opening, and opening the binder, delicate fingers landing on the year 8294

Agnes followed suit, opening her satchel, pulling out a stack of papers, a stack that seemed larger than usual, and placed it on the desk, letting the satchel slip off her lap and fall to the floor.

She just started to read. They both seemed to know the rhythm, the repetition of Agnes reading, and God finding the correct event, or not finding the right one, and reading the prophecy over, trying to figure out when it would appear. Agnes would try to explain what she thought it meant, but usually they would both be left wondering.

“Thee will Fynde an Enemy of the Demon Below, with a Surprise of the Worste. A Turne, with Enouffe of Ethereal a Reforme of Won will Happen” - Prophecy 7,019

She ran Her fingers through Her hair, which seemed to be softer than usual, not wiry, and then flipped a few pages back and forward, trying to find a corresponding date.

She moved herself towards God, just her body, and leaned to try a have a little sneak at the binder. The Almighty would , sometimes, show her parts of the Plan, at moments She had Planned, or past events that the humans had created themselves. She would always chuckle slightly, and then unclip the folder, and pull a piece of paper out, the familiar green ink scribbled on the page, and show it to Agnes, who would either grin, laugh, or a combination of the two. Then, She would put it back, and flip to the next page.

God flicked through the folder, and turned to Agnes, to find Agnes quite close to Her face. In fact, only a few inches from Her. She studied Agnes’ eyes, which had locked onto Her’s.

Neither of them said anything.God studied Agnes, watching exactly one breath, the rise and fall of her chest apparent beneath the soft cotton of her t-shirt, the pendant following the breath, the small blue stone dancing on the skin.

Agnes just studied Her face, each soft wrinkle echoing through time, but bringing her back to now, her eyes following all those wrinkles to her hair, the hair she just wanted to touch, to feel how soft it was, and -

And then, Agnes’ own thoughts were cut off, by God, the Almighty, the Lord Above, leaning forward, pulling Her chair forward slightly, and laying Her lips on Agnes’, a hand coming to her cheek, leaving no time for a breath as She kissed her, slowly.

Agnes was surprised to say the least. She knew that God had been getting increasingly nervous around her, but she had no idea this was the reason. She had been growing on Agnes, she had to admit that, but not as much as this. Agnes kissed back, but after a few seconds, she broke away.

“Lord, I-“

Agnes didn’t know what to say. She was frozen between rejection, and something else, something she couldn’t describe, something she hadn’t felt since her husband, but that was so long since now, and that feeling had died when he passed, she didn’t recognise it. B

God looked worried. It wasn’t a pretty look. God never was worried, She planned everything. But not this.

“Agnes, I’m sorry, I -“

But Agnes had stood up. In a slight panic, maintaining her composure, she went to say something, but stopped herself, more out of fear of what she would accidentally say than anything. Then, the witch pushed the chair out of the way, sending it spinning into a corner, hitting a small stack of books.

Agnes could feel her heart hitting against the pendant, thankful that her bodice was at the cottage, for panicked breathing was much easier in cotton than the stiff outer-garment.

And then, Agnes just strode to the exit of the office. She didn’t know what else to do. As she pulled on the handle, God spoke.

“Agnes, I -“

But She was cut short by Agnes slamming the door, not on purpose, but the door swung shut of it’s own accord, due to the fact the witch that had disappeared behind it had exited very swiftly, storming down the corridor.

God just sighed, and closed Her folder up, slowly, placing it back in the desk. Then She noticed. Agnes’ prophecies were still here. So was her bag.

She couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t look. She pulled Her chair along the desk, gathering up the files and put them gently back in the bag.

It gave Her reason to see Agnes again.

Not yet, though.

Chapter Text

She stormed back to the cottage, not shouting or screaming, or pushing angels over, just looking mightily angry. In truth, she wasn’t angry at all, just thinking things over, and how she had got to this point. She couldn’t believe it, she had kissed Her. She had kissed her. Did She really have feeling for her, a lowly human, and if so, did Agnes herself have feelings for Her?

She sat down on the couch, a mug of tea miracled, tasting slightly different to when she made it herself. She pondered all these feelings and more, and just sat, not sure where the time was going. A new timepiece, hung in the cottage after Agnes returned from a meeting a couple weeks ago, a cream face with jet black hands, was set to British time, and Agnes sat there from breakfast til dinner, nursing an everlasting mug of tea, not sure what to do. She had no reason to write prophecies, and thank Heavens for that, because there were none whirling around in her brain and no spare to look at.

The she realised. Her bag! She had left it up in the quirky office, with all her prophecies.

She knew, though, that God would not look at them, or copy them, or at least she hoped She wouldn’t. She felt, now, the trust the pair had worked on was broken slightly, or a little twisted.

She finally stood up, her ankle crying out in pain , and wishing she could make it stop. She hobbled over to the grimy window, and looked out, finding nothing new.

It was going to be a long few days.


It may have been calm in Agnes’ section, but the rest of Heaven was in uproar. As God was angry at Herself, and, had never felt this kind of heartbreak before, the offices had an angry atmosphere.

When God created Heaven, She modelled the angels on Herself, She hadn’t figured out emotions yet. So, accidentally, the angels were just given a copy of Hers. This was fine, until She found out that somehow, that link had made sure that all angels felt what She felt.

So, the whole of Heaven was angry at each other, and all a little emotional. Gabriel was currently trying to pry a report out of a lesser angel’s hands, the latter refusing to give it to him, while Michael was holding a meeting, a meeting that had dissolved into some carnage over office chairs. Even Sandalphon was getting swear words scattered here and there in the reports.

Uriel had locked themself in their office, preferring to opt out the chaos, and cope with the emotions on their own.

So God kept Herself locked up in the office She called home, while Her workers passive-aggressively tore each other to piece.

On the fourth day, after Uriel had walked out to find Sandalphon sellotaped roughly to a chair, pushed up and down the hallway, pride sitting in a deep pit of their stomach, they marched up to God’s office. Uriel had never went to God, not directly, but they were absolutely fed up. Although on the lift ride up they felt confident, as soon as the doors opened and the angel could see the entrance to the office, butterflies flitted in their stomach. (Or at least, butterflies flitted in the space in their corporation a stomach should be)

The golden freckled angel approached the heavy door, and knocked. A rather small voice, a voice Uriel did not expect from such a powerful entity came from within.


Uriel gulped, and gripped the brass handle, pushing against it. They were met with, what they saw as an middle aged woman (middle aged for humans, of course), short spiky hair, an unnatural grey, sniffling at Her desk. She composed Herself, and locked eyes on the angel.

“ Uriel.”

God gestured for Uriel to sit down in a particular tan-leather chair sitting at the desk. Uriel was regretting this more and more, and shuffled their way across the room, keeping eyes glued to the floor.

As they sat down, the Lord sniffled again, but continued, “What is it, Uriel? What is your reason for coming to see me?”

Uriel kept their eyes on the floor, and replied hastily, “I’m sorry, my Lord, I just thought, there is so much unrest in Heaven… I cannot work properly”

God leaned over Her desk, a warm smile, a smile that was hiding something, directed at the angel.

“I understand it is. You do work so hard Uriel”

They muttered a quick thank you, and let their boss continue.

“Well, Uriel, if I am to be completely honest” She sighed, rubbing Her lips together with slight nerves, “I’m suffering a little heartbreak at the moment”

Uriel looked up, to face God. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. God? God was romantically involved with someone? These feelings were made apparent in their face, as the Almighty smiled knowingly, and continued.

“ I know it is quite a shock for you, but yes, I have meddled with the human romantic world. Silly of me.” She gestured away, as if swatting away the thought.

Uriel leant forward, and placed a cold hand on the desk, still looking at Her, “Well, Lord, if you do not mind me saying, I do not think you should not do that. I mean, we all deserve a little love, once in a while.” The archangel looked down, breaking eye contact, “Sorry, Lord”

The Lord just paused, digesting those words, “No need for apology, Uriel. Thank you,” Uriel looked up again, hesitantly, and gulped.

“But, my Lord, please forgive me if I am out of place, but surely you want to find this being again?”, the angel made eye contact with the entity, and then looked away again, choosing to focus on Her hands.

“Yes, Uriel, I do, but I must not force it on them.” Uriel noticed the use of a neutral pronoun, not gendering or identifying the person. They did not have a response for this, so the pair sat in silence, until the Almighty spoke.

“Uriel, do you have anyone special?” Uriel scoffed, trying to camouflage the thoughts, their cheeks flushed, and the gold flecks on their nose seemed to brighten.

“N-no Lord, I do not.”, which wasn’t exactly the most truthful answer. They decided to answer with a little of a different approach, “ I have more of a mutual love for people, than romantic feelings” . Uriel had been thinking about their fellow angel, Michael, and was at this point, trying to block that thought, knowing that had caused the flushing of their face

God just replied with a very vague, “Ah, yes. Of course.”, before bringing out a small light gold notebook, patterned with stars, and flicking through the pages, blatantly ignoring Uriel. Uriel was slightly panicked at this point, God must know, surely! She’s all seeing, after all!

Uriel came to their senses, and lifted themself from the leather, and bowed slightly.

“Thank you, Lord.”

God just smiled up at them, and nodded Her head, “Thank you, Uriel”

Uriel made to leave, a little overwhelmed, but as they reached the door, God called out.


Uriel turned to face Her, head bowed again.

“There is something on your desk for you. A way of thank you, for bringing this to my attention.”, God spied not take Her eyes off the notebook.

The corners of Uriel’s lips raised slightly, and they nodded, “Thank you very much, my Lord.” , and slipped out the room, leaving God alone again, flicking through the notebook.

She picked up a quill and dipped it into the pot of dark green ink, tapping off the excess, and circling two names in the notebook. She caught Her reflection in Her polished desk, and smiled.


Uriel exited the lift, and found Gabriel waiting for them, looking worried. As soon as he saw them, he rushed forward.

“Hey, what went on?” he exclaimed, seemingly back to normal, his emotions not going haywire.

“I just t-talked to God.”, they smiled at the angel, realising what they had done. Gabriel’s jaw dropped slightly. Only he had been granted access to that office, and Uriel just marches up and is let in?

Uriel just walked to their office, consumed in their own mind, ignoring the saint.


Uriel shut their door, and spotted a dark gold basket, large in size, sitting on their desk. They tiptoed over to the clean white desk, sitting down in their ergonomic chair, and pulling themself closer. The inside of the basket was obscured with a layer of black tissue paper, neatly arranged on the basket, with a small business card-sized piece of parchment. They read the spidery lettering.

“Uriel, my most hardworking angel.

And do not hesitate to pursue love”

Uriel gasped slightly. She knew. Deep down, they knew that She had known for millennia, or whoever they had started thinking about it.

Uriel placed the note carefully on the desk, and delicately pulled the paper off, to hear a small yip from inside. The paper was pulled off fully, to reveal a eight week old Corgi pup, markings and colours the traditional tan. Uriel exclaimed in delight, and beamed as they picked up the small being, who’s tail had started wagging frantically, eyes looking up her new owner. As Uriel moved the basket aside, and went to place the puppy on the desk, a small bed appeared in place of the basket, a four-sided plush bed, with an angel wing motif embroidered into the right hand corner.

Uriel placed the puppy inside, and she immediately curled up in a corner, staring up at her new parent.

They stroked the small pup, and whispered to themself , “Sunflower. You look like a Sunflower.”

The newly named dog barked slightly in approval, and stared up adoringly at the angel.

Chapter Text

Three weeks had passed. Heaven was, thankfully, back to normal, but Agnes was bored out of her mind. She had tried every miracle, finding that she could only miracle necessary things, such as drinks and food, but couldn’t miracle wants, for example, ridding herself of her arthritic ankle (she thought this was a need, but Heaven seemed to disagree).

She had written so many prophecies, that the stack of paper was now higher than it was wide, and they were still coming, thick and fast. But still, she was bored.

The one other thing she couldn’t get off her mind was God. She had spent many evenings, pondering over their last encounter, and was reviewing exactly what she said, and what She had said, and trying to piece together what had happened. She kept thinking of that look on Her face, that look of sorrow that seemed to dance over each crevice and dip in the being’s face, eyes full with despair. The one conclusion she had come to, though, was that she couldn’t get the Almighty off her mind.


On the Saturday of the third week, Agnes heard a noise, but dismissed it. No way anyone had come to visit her, not after so many weeks alone. She kept her quill writing, a new prophecy coming to mind. Another noise. She looked up, trying to identify the noise. Then, footsteps. Footsteps approaching the door. The witch stood up, and leant to peek out the small window, to see nothing.

Agnes undid the latch, and back to let the door swing open.

Standing, on her doorstep, was Her. God. Holding the prophetess’ satchel.

Agnes shot Her a look of absolute confusion, and then She spoke.

“Agnes, I -“

But She was cut off, Agnes holding her hand out to stop Her speech, a very apparent look now of angry composure. Then, Agnes gestured for Her to enter. God was quite shocked. She should have Planned this, but hadn’t, out of (what She wouldn’t admit) fear. She stepped into the small cottage, and held out the satchel to Agnes. Agnes took it, and placed the bag on the table beside her, shuffling a few papers to the side and moved to sit on the uncomfortable stool at the table. God miracled another stool, and sat Herself down.

Agnes just looked at God, expectantly. She was demanding an explanation.

The Almighty took a deep breath in, and exhaled.

“Agnes, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was horrible, and insensitive of me, and I am truly sorry”

The witch just stood her ground, and let the words sink in. She sounded like She was truly sorry, and Agnes couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She had probably never said sorry to a being before, as God did not make mistakes.

“I understand”, she paced her words slowly, thinking each one out, “ but it was no reason to try to seduce I, Lord”

God sighed, and placed a hand on the table, inching it towards Agnes. Her skin seemed to dance with a pale gold, “I know, it was wrong of me. And I shouldn’t have done it.”

The Almighty seemed small now, Agnes could tell She was intimidated. Her vessel was not physically small, but Her voice had lost its slight harsh tone, and the boom has been pushed aside for a weak sigh. She looked defeated.

Agnes placed a hand on Her’s, the suggestion of a smile gracing her features.

“Lord, I can understand. I can imagine these feelings art the most peculiar for thee” the witch smiled wider.

Of course they would be. These feelings had never been felt by by God before, being an entity in the sky and all, She was not supposed to, not Her, only love for Her creations was allowed. She was a neutral entity in the Heavens, after all.

But this was different.

She stuttered to answer, but Agnes squeezed Her hand slightly to halt Her.

“I want thee to know… I hath not been able, mineself, to stop thinking about thee.”

God’s eyes brightened, and and a gleam came back to them, a gleam Agnes did not remember, but instantly fell in love with.

“R-really?” God seemed nervous. Agnes suddenly realised She might not have Planned this. Agnes felt a little privileged, knowing that she was the exception.


She edged closer, pulling the stool towards Her. She rested a hand on Her cheek, and the Almighty gulped, not flinching when Agnes cupped Her cheek.

And with that touch, Agnes was very close. Extremely close. Although this time, they did not study each other’s features, but locked eyes, and did not break. Agnes could feel each breath against her palm, the skin between cool to the touch, aching for heat.

As just as She had done a few weeks ago, Agnes pulled God towards her gently, smiling kindly and kissing Her with all the passion she had built up, and forgot she had over those three weeks. God seemed surprised, a slightly shocked look coming to Her, but melting into her all the same,

They both held this kiss for longer than they should’ve, basking in each other’s auras, blissfully happy.

Then, they broke apart, a grin on both faces, God turning Her hand upwards, and the pair intwining fingers. This seemed natural, Agnes thought, natural and right.

“Well, I guess we’re both quite happy with each other then?”

Agnes replied by pressing her forehead to God’s, noses inches from each other.

“Methinks we art.”

What the pair hadn’t noticed, in their bliss, was the grey clad angel who had been peering in the window, who was now hurriedly walking out of Section Theta Seven, block 24, dragging his jaw, which had hit the floor for the second time that month.

Chapter Text

Gabriel walked back to his office, slightly in a daze. He couldn’t have seen that, could he? Or did he? All the questions ran through his head, making him question his belief. He knew his God, he knew She cared for everyone and everything, with the same amount of love. So how was this happening?

He opened the door of his office, and closed it gently behind him, walking over and plonking himself down in front of the small stacks of paperwork. He needed a distraction.

Then, his phone vibrated.

He brought the sleek machine out of his pocket, and clicked it open with a press of a button, and felt something flutter inside of him at the name that flashed up on the small screen.

“Honey Bee”

A sharp knock at the door, and he laid the device on the desk, accidentally leaving the screen on.

“Come in!” He tried his best to sound cheery, but honestly, he was unsure of himself at this point.

A quick turn of the handle and his coworker, the golden freckled angel, was standing in the doorway, accompanied by a small puppy, now dressed with a yellow collar and a small dark yellow and black name tag.


Sunflower ran in, preceding her parent, and nipped around Gabriel’s ankles, yipping and barking as she went. Uriel just looked down adoringly, not worried too much about the puppy with their fellow angel.

“Good morning!” He smiled sheepishly, and Uriel raised an eyebrow, as they walked over to the desk, perching on the edge. They had spent 6,000 years with Gabriel, they knew when something was wrong.

“Gabriel. What’s wrong?”

Gabriel looked up at his fellow angel, and smiled slightly, “Nothing’s wrong! Nothing at all!”, he stood up and moved over to a small filing cabinet next to the desk, opening the first drawer and shuffling paperwork around, just needing something to do with his hands, to stop the truth flowing. Sunflower became disinterested in him as soon as he moved, after all, he hadn’t even acknowledged her, never mind given her a stroke or a pat. The small dog now yipped at her parent’s ankles, until they picked her up, supporting her back legs, and settled her in their arms.

“Gabe, I know when something’s wrong.”

He softened at the use of a shorter version of his name, that shorter version only being used when Uriel was concerned about him, and Gabriel knew that. He turned round, and sat himself on the desk, now level with Uriel.

“It’s … um” He pointed upwards.

Uriel got the gesture completely.

“Right, what about Her?”

Gabriel cleared his throat with a short cough. This was going to be a fun story.

“Well, I took a trip down to see that witch, Abigail Nicols or whatever her name is -“

Uriel cut in, “ Agnes Nutter”

Gabriel gestured to suggest he got it, and continued

“Yes, well, I took a trip down to her cottage, Section Theta Seven, just to, ya know, check up on her, see how she’s doing, make sure Aziraphale explained everything yadda yadda yadda”

He gestured again, a rolling motion.

“And I look in the window, just to make sure she’s not doing anything scandalous or anything, just in case.”

He chuckled nervously , Uriel on tenterhooks, looking in curiosity at the angel, the pup now licking the underside of the other angel’s chin.

“And umm…”, the nerves hit him, realising what he was going to say.

“And she was kissing someone”

Uriel looked slightly shocked, knowing that the Almighty came into this somehow. They paused, and then said softly, “So, how does She come into this?”.

Gabriel gulped.

“Well, Andrea -“


“Yeah, Agnes, well, she was kissing…” He pointed upwards.

Uriel froze, and pointed upwards, and said “Agnes and ..?”

Gabriel nodded in response, and Sunflower stopped her licking, sensing the emotions of the angels.

Uriel just stared in disbelief, and blinked, trying to process the situation.

“You’re telling me,” they started, slowly speaking, “that God, our Lord, kissed a … a human?”

Gabriel just nodded in response, “Yep. On the lips and everything”

Uriel cocked their head to the side, a cheeky grin crawling onto their lips.

“ Did She use tongue?”

The grey archangel lightly hit Uriel’s arm, and exclaimed, “Uriel!”

Uriel just smiled, and replied, seeming a little softer.

“Just a question”

Gabriel looked down at his hands, thumbs twiddling.


The golden-freckled angel exclaimed for the second time, “Really?”

Gabriel looked up, a slight whine in his voice.

“I don’t know! I didn’t stick around long enough!”

Uriel giggles, masking their smile behind their hand, and the puppy barked softly. Gabriel still didn’t pay the puppy any attention, except for jumping slightly at the bark. Uriel giggled again, at their fellow angel’s reaction to the dog.

“Well, this changes everything, doesn’t it?”

Uriel looked at Gabriel, and softly said, “Does it?”

Gabriel retorted back, a touch of a harsh tone in his voice, “It does! She’s supposed to love everything and everyone equally! She can’t hold someone above all of Her Creations!”

Uriel just smiled, remembering their conversation with Her a few weeks, that short conversation that Uriel would not breath a word to anyone about.

“ Well, I’m sure we won’t have to worry about it”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, knowing that Uriel knew something “ Are you sure?”

The ruffle-collared ethereal stood up, still supporting the puppy in their hands, then looked the other angel in the eyes.


They walked to the door, keeping an eye on the grey-clad ethereal, his eyes asking for an explanation, but none came.

Uriel reached the door, and as an afterthought, said to the angel, “Oh, and have a good time with Beelzebub!”, before slipping out the door, a small bark as a goodbye from Sunflower.

“Uriel!”, he shouted after them, but no response came, and he knew they were not going to.

How did they know?

Then he realised his phone was still lying on on the desk, messages open on him and his “Honey Bee”’s conversation. He swore to himself and picked up the device, reading the last message which had arrived a few minutes ago.

‘Usual place, birdbrain. Jogging clothes this time’

Gabriel just smiled, forgetting all his worries from the conversation a few moments ago, and with a flash of violet lightening, disappearing.

Of course, no one was around to see it, but the grin on his face just before he left was the biggest he had ever been seen sporting.

Chapter Text

By the next day, the rumour that God was supposedly romantically involved with a human had spread across Heaven. Whispers everywhere had developed the rumour, lies emerging from the truth easily.

During all this drama, God hadn’t even noticed the ruckus in Heaven, due to beingat Agnes’ little cottage. They had both felt a very automatic connection, which She knew was a cliché, but God and a 17th Century witch falling in love was definitely out of the ordinary. They did not care, to be honest, they were in love, and it felt so right.

Immediately after the kiss, they had both sat, a comfortable silence settling on the pair, hands locked together, a little unsure on what to do next.

After a few hours, the witch could feel sleep pushing down on her, the constant reminder of her mortality, or at least, her previous mortality. She cut through the silence, whispering slightly.

“I will need to retire to my bed, art thee okay with that?”

God just smiled, turning towards her, and speaking in the softest of tones.

“No need to ask, Agnes. If you don’t mind, can I join you?”

She was slightly taken aback. God was going to sleep? She was quite sure She didn’t usually.

“Lord, if thee doth not mind I asking, do thee actually sleep?”

God shook Her head, hair brushing Her neck.

“Not usually. I can if I want to, though. Last time I slept was…” She broke eye contact, looking off into a corner of the room, nostalgic thoughts flooding Her brain, “4,000 years.”

Agnes looked shocked, and then stood up slowly, placing a kiss on the back of the Almighty’s hand, letting go and walking to the bedroom, “If thee want to join in, then, thee art welcome”

God was unsure. Should She follow Agnes? Or should She wait for her?Should She sleep at all? Her thoughts were stopped when Agnes stood in the doorway of the small bedroom, now wearing a floor length nightgown, white in colour embroidered with pink and blue flowers, covering the seams.

“I will retire now. Art thee coming?”

God gulped, and nodded, standing on shaky legs, and walking towards the bedroom. The idea of being in Agnes’ home, sleeping in her bed was something God did not even think of, and as She had not Planned this, She was unsurprised to be surprised.

“Y-yes. I think so.”

Agnes just smiled as the Almighty approached her, and disappeared into the dark of the room.

God followed her in, to find a small double bed, duvet cover and pillows a pewter colour. Two lamps stood next to the bed, each resting on a low bookcase, the bookcase stuffed with first editions and rare copies, so rare that a certain angel would probably faint at the sight of them. Agnes had pulled the covers back, and was sitting up on the right hand side, feet tucked under the folded up cover.

She froze slightly. She had never been in such an intimate situation before. The kiss was intimate enough, but this was another step. Agnes looked up at Her, and smiled, patting the space next to her on the bed.

She slowly approached the bed. She then realised She was still in Her normal clothes.

Rattling through Her head, focusing on what She had seen humans wear to bed for the last century, She settled on a set of plain blue cotton pyjamas. Miracling Herself into the into the night clothes, She sat on the edge of the bed, and swung Her feet onto the soft mattress. Agnes stifled a laugh, Her behaviour all a little rigid and out of place. She shuffled down the bed, tucking feet under the duvet, and laying face up on the pillows, hands by Her side.

Agnes slid down, lying on her side, facing her new lover, pulling the cover over the pair.

God did not want to face Agnes. That would be the third intimate thing that had happened to Her in 6,000 years, and honestly, She was extremely nervous.

Agnes took her hand, and slid it under the covers, feeling for Hers. As soon as she found it, cold skin pressing her warmth, God tensed up, shoulders rising.

“Lord” Agnes spoke, a little nervous herself.

The Lord replied, still facing the ceiling, “Yes?”

“Thee not need be anxious. I know this is most strange for thee, but it ist also strange for I as well.”

A sharp intake of breath came from the entity, a calming breath for Her, but to any human, it would had been a nervous breath. She finally turned to Agnes, shifting Her frame to face her, her hand’s grip tightening.

“I know. I’ve never done this before.”

“I hath only been with one, and he died quite quickly after my daughter’s birth. Not as love-filed as this, Lord.”

Another grin, softer and kinder now, tugged on Her lips.

“But that doth not matter now” she reached out her spare hand, settling on Her cheek again, “ I cannot describe how connected I feel to thee,” Agnes’ words seemed to be falling off her tongue, speech slightly slower, blinking heavier.

“I feel the same” She whispered.

Agnes just adjusted her hand, grasping Hers a little more, and smiling, eyes sliding shut, other hand softly resting on Her cheek.

God studied her, half asleep now, drinking in every feature, hair hardly brushed, more backcombed and wild. The hem of the nightgown tickled at her collarbone, and complemented her fair skin, freckles like constellations, framing the curve of her neck.

She just lay there, and contemplated Agnes, a couple hours passing by. She wasn’t sure if She would sleep, but either way, She was happy.

Chapter Text

Calmly, She opened Her eyes, weak sunlight pushing through the door. Eyes, olive with a sparkle at the edges, drank in the world She had woke up in. The essence of cinnamon and soft cotton tingled Her olfactory receptors, the off-white ceiling making Her eyes squint slightly. She turned over, towards where Her new-found love should have been laying, but She only found an empty bed, sheet creased, mattress slightly dipped, cover pulled back neatly in a triangle. Turning to lay on Her back again, hands clasping on Her chest, a deep breath filling Her lungs and then petering off. She could not honestly believe how lucky She was. And She had created luck. Everything She had wanted, not that She had knew it before, was here, and She was the closest to a human She had ever been.

A noise from outside the cosy room focused Her attention, and Her head peeked above the cover, propping Herself up on an elbow, slight grogginess hitting Her. Pale feet wriggled out and placed themselves on the floor and She hauled Herself up, supporting with equally pale arms. Padding Her way to the other room of the cottage, greeted by the sight of Agnes busy in the kitchen, a pale pink dressing gown drawn over her nightgown, tied loosely, not hiding the nightwear underneath. The kettle was whistling, a pan was bubbling, the small kitchen seemed alive.

As She approached the table, now clear from Agnes’ work, now adorned with a simple white tablecloth, William Morris’ Willow bough pattern contrasting with the clean colour, matching mugs set next to them, two sets of neat silver cutlery placed with absolute precision on the mats.

Agnes’ turned at the noise of soft footsteps, and beamed, “Good morrow, did thee sleep well?”

“I did. Forgot how good sleep was”, God perched on a stool, toes skimming the ground.

The witch turned back to the stove, eyes watching each cooking item carefully, and lifted the kettle, and turned to the table.

“What would thee like to drink?”

The Almighty replied hastily, “A camomile tea, if you don’t mind.”

Agnes simply clicked her fingers, a camomile teabag appearing in the mug closest to Her, peppermint in the other. She poured the hot water, filling the mugs near-full, and placing the kettle back on the stove, before turning again to the table.

“Any preference on food, Lord?”

She shivered slightly at the name. Most of Her Creations called Her that, and having someone She was so intimate with call Her that was a little off putting. Agnes noticed thee shiver, and hastened a guess at the reason. Agnes could see Her aura after all, which was emitting a colour usually associated with nerves, or discomfort.

“No, no, just anything, I don’t mind.” She replied, eyes looking elsewhere.

Agnes went to the stove again, taking a bowl and beating eggs together, adding salt and pepper, “I will make omelettes then, dear.”

God heard that word. Dear. Did Agnes really just say that? Like they were an old married couple? She went wide eyed, and froze slightly, hands set in place on the table.

She didn’t get a response, and knew exactly why, turning round, and facing the Lord Above, who was, frozen in shock.

“Art thee okay with that?” Agnes was asking about the omelettes and the new pet name, and she hoped God would respond to that.

She squeaked out a “Yes” and the witch turned back, pouring the beaten egg into the lightly oiled pan, and letting it cook, satisfied with that response.

God seemed to regain Her pride, with a half-minute of thoughts, and then a gulp of tea, pulling Her brain back together.

Agnes focused on the omelette, watching two pans at once, the other bubbling away with eggs poaching inside. God just sipped Her tea, and tried to bring Her thoughts back, but all She could focus on was Agnes. How the sunlight hit her hair, dancing among those wisps. She was perfect.

After a short while, the witch brought two china plates to the table, and placed them down in front of the Almighty and on her own place setting. She served the omelette, taking extra care not to break it, and smiling gently while doing so, and then serving her own, two poached eggs on a piece of buttered brown bread, and after carefully stacking the pans in the butler sink, sat across from the Lord.

“Well, dear, tuck in”, she said, not flinching at the new nickname.

God’s breath hitched, but She powered through it, swallowing Her pride and replying with a soft and small “Yes, thank you”, before lifting Her cutlery and digging in.

To be honest, God didn’t have to eat. Just like Her angels didn’t have to either, but, like a certain angel who She had a fondness for, She enjoyed the process of it. The Lord hadn’t eaten for hundreds of years, and She would usually go through gaps of time like this, indulging every couple centuries, but leaving space in between.

Taking the first bite of the simple dish, the Almighty realised how much She missed food. She had never had anything home cooked, nothing so lovingly made, as miracling was an easier and simpler option. How could simple food taste so good?

Taking polite but very quick and large bites, nearly shovelling it into Her mouth, Agnes just watched stifling a giggle or two, while carefully eating her food, eggs perfectly cooked, no miracle used.

Cutlery clattered to the plate, as She finished, and sat back. Coming to Her senses, She sat up, realising how rude She was being.

“Oh, Agnes, sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude…” Agnes just grinned, and finished her own plate of food, cutlery neatly placed at half past six on the plate.

“Not a worry, dear.” God took a sharp intake of breath at the new nickname, letting it sink in a little.

Agnes stood up, picking up the two plates, and moving them over to the sink, and turned the tap on, water cascading over the dishes. God stood, and walked over to where the witch was standing, and leant against the work surface.

“Agnes, let me do those dishes.”

The prophetess looked up, and protested immediately, “Thee art a guest, I must stop thee -“

God cut her off, with a small tone of pleading and annoyance entering Her speech, “I insist. The least I can do.”

Agnes looked defeated, and stepped aside, to let Her take over the chore, and gathered their used mugs, and added them to the pile.

God took the liquid soap and washed each dish by hand, drying off by hand, and placing on the worktop next to the deep sink. Agnes did note the lack of miracles, and wondered why. Those thoughts preoccupied her mind as she made the bed the pair had resided in the night before, and tidied the rooms of her abode, until she heard the tap being turned off, and the last dish stacked.

She walked through to the kitchen, finding Her drying Her hands, and sidled up to Her, leaning up against the worktop just as She had.

“No miracles?”

God nodded, “I quite like the simplicity of human tasks.”

Agnes answered with a quick kiss to the cheek, God’s cheeks colouring, and wriggling her hand into Her’s , and leading Her to the couch, where Agnes sat down first, and gestured for Her to sit down next to her. God sat down, nerves reaching Her again, teeth grazing Her lip. After a while, in another comfortable silence, God lay Her head on Agnes’ shoulder. Agnes turned her head, and pressed a delicate kiss to Her forehead.

God has tried to find happiness for 6,000 years, and finally, she had found it, in a small cottage, with a witch from the 17th Century.