Work Text:
In the beginning, God created a place.
The place was void and without form. And God hovered over it.
And God said, “Let there be white!”
And there was white. White on white on white. So much white.
God saw that the white was good.
“Called it! Sadistic bastard, right out of the gate.”
“Crowley! She created other colors too.”
“Pffffft.”
God called the place “mountain.” Since time hadn’t been invented yet, there was no first day or night to commemorate the occasion.
And God said, “Let there be a separation between the mountain and Below.” And even though no one was around to know what Below was for—because She said it, it was so.
Then God made the mountain pretty. She filled it with trees and grass and flowers and streets of gold and a massive office building. And She saw that everything was good.
Then God created children for Herself, winged beings according to their ranks. She made eagles, cranes, swallows, owls, doves... and an exceptionally kind and sexy crow. She saw that everything was good.
But She was wrong. Not everything was good. Eagles were beautiful creatures. But they were prideful. The strongest eagle turned against God and took others with him, inventing the first war. The sexy crow also joined the rebellious eagle. They fought hard but couldn’t overpower God. In the end, they lost their wings and were cast down to Below.
The sexy crow became a snake.
“All the crow bits are extraneous.”
“They’re important! I’m keeping them.”
The war didn’t root out all evil from the mountain. Another eagle, this one with purple eyes, was also very prideful. He was convinced of his own importance and demanded other birds, whom he saw as inferior, to exceed his expectations in every assignment.
The eagle remained a Bad Boss and was very arrogant for six thousand years. He wouldn’t have changed if not for a horrible thing that happened to him.
A very bad owl tricked him and did very mean things to him. The owl kept the eagle captive, away from the mountain. And even though the eagle begged in his heart for deliverance, God was silent.
For months and months, the owl kept hurting the eagle. The eagle grew weak and confused. He gave up hope.
It didn’t matter anyway. God stopped answering birds a long time ago.
Later, after the snake helped the eagle break free and invited the eagle to move into his burrow, the eagle started to wonder:
Why did She let this happen?
Why didn’t She stop the owl?
Didn’t She care?
His questions got bigger.
Did She know one of her owls was evil?
Actually, did She know the strongest eagle was evil?
And for the record, since evil had to come from somewhere, did She create evil?
And what’s with creating Below? She knew, didn’t She? That there would be evil and She’d need a place to shove it out of Her sight...
Crowley placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, gently, even though he wanted to tear Gabriel away from the desk.
“Gabe, sweetheart, please stop.” He squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t need to... you don’t want to ask these kinds of questions.”
Gabriel stabbed more words into existence. He didn’t know that a pencil tip could break, and so it didn’t.
“I have to.”
“We’re safe now. We got out, you and me. No need to bring Her into any of it.”
“I have to!” Gabriel looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “I can’t... ignore things anymore. Besides, what’s the difference between writing it and thinking it? It’s not like She doesn’t already know.”
Crowley winced. Gabriel had this uncanny ability to think things into existence. He absolutely mustn’t expect Her to know. She can’t know...
“I won’t Fall.”
So confident. Just like Lucifer from eons ago.
Nothing will happen! What’s She going to do, stop us?
“I won’t Fall,” Gabriel repeated. “If it’s what you’re worried about...”
“You don’t know that!”
Suddenly, Crowley was looming over Gabriel, finger pointing at him, snarling.
Gabriel panicked.
It was the kind that made his eyes grow wide and made him lean ever so slightly away from Crowley—enough movement for a tear to spill down Gabriel’s cheek.
Something inside Crowley crumbled.
“Archangel, I’m sss...”
“Don’t.”
Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t make things worse.
Gabriel turned and hunched over his story, failing miserably at pretending to sulk instead of spiralling. Crowley stared helplessly at the rapid rise and fall of Gabriel’s back. Breathe, archangel , he willed Gabriel to hear, to remember the exercise they’d walked through countless times. Deep breaths. That’s it. In, out. In, out. In, out...
When he was ready, Gabriel picked up his pencil.
The words flowed. When Gabriel filled a sheet of paper, Crowley slid him a new one. A pause. Then Gabriel took it. Apology accepted.
After Gabriel finished, he retreated into his room. But he left the story on the desk, an invitation to read.
The eagle knew he would never again be completely sure of anything. Certainty was for healthy birds whose world was white on white on white. The eagle had seen the blackest of black. It was horrible. He’d never wished it on anyone.
But he’d learned to see colors.
The eagle loved the snake’s yellow eyes, shiny black scales and red belly. He loved the black, white, and brown of their puppy. He loved the green of plants in the snake’s burrow. He loved his sister’s brown eyes.
He loved.
The evil owl couldn’t take that away, never will.
The eagle wins.
“Yes you do,” Crowley murmured, eyes drifting toward the closed door of Gabriel’s room.
Tomorrow, they would add this new chapter to The Tales of Eagle and Snake that was becoming a bulging volume. It could handle all the twists and turns because they both knew exactly how the story was going to end:
And the snake and the eagle live happily ever after.