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It was quiet in Watcher HQ. Steven doesn’t mind it, though.
He always enjoyed the late work nights, the tranquil clicking of his laptop and a few others. Shane and Ryan were away to film Ghost Files a few states away so the office was almost empty. Steven sighed as he sipped his coffee as he looked at the screen of his laptop.
The house Shane and Ryan are going to investigate wasn’t exactly haunted, but it housed a demonic entity that earned the place’s reputation. The shorter one wasn’t keen on staying the night there, but Shane promised he’d be there to protect the cryptid. (He said it in a joking tone, but Steven knew he was powerful enough to actually do it. There was a reason Old Alton Bridge was feared, after all). “Late night?” Steven heard from behind, breaking his trance.
“Yeah. Too many things to do,” he replied, shrugging. “I’m surprised you’re here, Ricky.”
“Eh. I was in the neighbourhood, thought I’d drop by,” he replied. Steven turned towards Ricky. “It’s almost midnight, why are you still here?”
“Why are you here—?”
“Hey, I just finished my shift at the bar next door and saw that the lights are still on,” Ricky defended himself. “I say you should get back home and rest. Go to sleep.”
Steven pushed his chair back a bit, stretching his arms and invisible wings. Ricky could almost feel the wind shift in movement. “Oh, don’t go all ‘I am an angel of the Lord, I don’t need sleep!’ on me, Steven. I’ve seen you pass out from exhaustion.”
“That was one time!”
The mixologist shook his head. “Go home. Or I’ll call the other two.”
“They’re probably filming right now.”
“So?”
“...fine. I’ll finish up and head back,” the angel replied, defeated.
“Good.”
Ricky promised to lock up for Steven and quickly dismissed any complaints from him, leaving Steven walking by himself down the road towards the train station with earphones blaring music into his ears. It was 10 minutes past midnight, the stars were high, and the moon was glowing. He admired them from afar, breath taken away, even if he was the one who created some of them. He was their guardian, back in the day.
Well, not really. It’s still his Purpose, his Being, the sole reason why he was here.
Yet Steven saw his past as another him, not truly what he considered to be ‘himself’. They were innocent, lived without care, full of life’s wonders, and frankly, someone who did not bat an eye on humans. They were fulfilled with who they were. But that was then. And now there’s… just Steven.
Steven hasn’t exactly fallen, not yet anyway, but he was straying far enough to end up on Earth and start a company with his best friends, a demon and the Mothman.
He had asked Shane about how it felt when he fell, however.
“That sounded like half of a pick-up line,” Shane laughed.
Steven only shuffled nervously. “Um. Sorry if it seemed a bit… invasive?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” the demon replied, more laid back than ever. Sure, Shane had said that Steven’s allowed to ask him anything about the things Heaven hid. But still. Asking how he fell was like asking how someone felt whilst getting kicked out of their house. “ Falling, huh? Like the capital F, one? It’s been a long time. It…”
The angel waited in silence.
“I don’t know how to explain it, Steven. You feel like you’re dropped into an endless nothing that leads you into a pool of boiling hot lava. Your wings—Heaven’s sign of purity—they burn off you and you feel every single fucking second of it.”
“I…”
“Why are you asking about this, hm? Do you feel your little wings heat up a little?” Shane joked. Steven sent him a glare, though he knows the other doesn’t mean it.
“No. I was just wondering,” he shot. In truth, he was afraid.
Afraid of defying Her.
He was afraid that the smell of sulfur would engulf him, that flames would swallow him whole, and he would leave trails of soot instead of stars.
Shane could sense the growing tension on Steven’s wings and decided to pat him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m sure She doesn’t do that anymore. Anyway, I have to film something else later, always a busy schedule in the ’Feed.”
“But—”
Unfortunately, Shane already stood up and gave the angel a small goodbye, before walking away.
Thankfully, Steven never felt like his wings were burning, yet there was always a sense of impending doom lingering at the back of his mind.
He changed the song to ‘From The Start’ by Laufey in his Spotify as he descended into the metro station. He hummed softly at the tune, waiting for the train. Steven thoughtlessly scrolled through his social media; something about sports here, something about memes there, and, oh, the fans are theorising again. He always found them funny, how unexpectedly right they were.
Well, Shane and Ryan never really tried to hide it — Ryan always used red goggles as part of the Mothman aesthetic and Shane just… bleats sometimes. Steven, however, tried his best to hide his true nature. Even then, he still slipped up a few times in Worth It. (That’s how Andrew knew, he stuck the pieces together and figured it out himself.)
They were filming an episode about beans. It just so happens that Steven really liked the beans back in the 1800s.
Steven and Andrew were visiting a restaurant whose price was somewhere in the middle and had a speciality baked bean dish that originated from an old recipe. Andrew introduced the taste as rich and crispy, while the angel noted the taste of sweet molasses.
“I could almost taste the Medieval ages with one bite,” Andrew joked.
Steven chuckled. “I don’t think the recipe was created during Medieval times, that was, like, 500 AD or something.”
“Oh yeah? When did you become a history buff?”
“I’m not! But the taste takes me back.”
The human raised an eyebrow at Steven’s statement. “You had old-style beans when you were young?”
“No! I think it was somewhere during 1857 or—”
In the video, the clip was cut to Adam silently eating. (He had insisted that it would be a funny bit. Which it was, but Steven still complained). Behind the scenes, however, Steven could feel Andrew’s eyes lingering on him, inspecting him, and watching every single movement. The Cherubim didn’t need his infinite eyes to know that the other was observing him. Andrew was nice enough not to bring anything up until… well, until Adam blatantly asked Steven about what it felt like being an angel.
Something about always wanting to fly.
The conversation with Andrew started with a deserved “What the fuck, Steven?!” and thankfully ended peacefully without Worth It ending. (Also, Andrew wanted Steven to do all the food facts, which he declined because he wasn’t all-knowing and claiming that would be blasphemy. )
It was a funny conversation, now that Steven could look back at it.
His train arrived at his station and the sound of the door sliding open brought him back to reality—fast enough for him to get off his train. He yawned as he tapped his metro card and his head rang, signifying a prayer, but who would even—
“Steven. Steven Lim. Or whatever, I’ve never prayed before but hey. It’s, uh, Ryan. Shane said to clasp my hands together and pray to you because we’re in a bit of a—HOLY SHIT, SHANE ARE YOU OKAY?—please, Steven, you son of a gun. This is not a demon, this— OH FUCK!”
Not a demon?
Something Shane can’t even handle?
Shit.
With a flap of his four wings, Steven teleported across the States, sensing wherever the fuck the duo was. It didn’t take long for him to find the house they were investigating and the crew panicking. He reassured the crew for a while before entering the house, glowing in glory, as he gleamed with the Might of God. It was more of an intimidation tactic than anything, but then again, he was a Cherubim. Second highest in the hierarchy of the Host, protector of Her creation and Her Holy land.
He was to be feared. (But it felt better when he was loved.)
He let himself materialize in front of Shane and Ryan, giving the Mothman such a fright, but he didn’t care. Shane muttered a soft, “You just had to make a dramatic entrance, didn’t you? Turn the lights off it’s too bright.” Steven couldn’t help but chuckle.
Ryan was evidently panicking, his breath picking up its pace as he sees Steven. Then he was starstruck. “Holy shit, Steven, you’re glowing. ”
“Mmm. Try not to latch onto me for a week after this, okay?” the blue-haired man joked to ease the other. “What happened?”
“We were doing our usual shoots when, uh, someone hit Shane.”
“Someone—?”
“Yeah, and they didn’t look like your typical demon. They were—”
Before Ryan could finish, he froze. Steven frowned as he watched the terrified cryptid unable to talk. Suddenly, he sensed a presence. It was too pure for a demon, which could only mean…
An angel. Oh, fucking hell.
“Ophaniel?”
Son of a b—
“Who?” Ryan chimed momentarily, before backing up close to Shane as a defensive move.
The blue-haired man gritted his teeth, “It’s Steven now."
“It’s been such a long time, Opha—”
“Steven.”
“Right, Steven,” the figure was glowing too, but that didn’t scare Steven. Under the Might, however, they took the form of a woman in their 30s, a bit older than the form he preferred. “Where have you been?”
“Earth.”
“We’ve been looking for you, little brother .”
Somewhere behind him, Shane groaned while Ryan gasped. “Not one of them,” the tall man commented weakly. “No offence, Steven, but your lot is an annoying one.”
“You used to be one of them, right, Shane?” the shorter one asked.
“Shut up, Ryan.”
Steven laughed emptily. The room grew slightly colder as he spat, “Who are ‘we’? Aside from you, sister, I haven’t come across the others while I was enjoying my time on Earth. I would’ve thought it was easier to find me—with the popular YouTube channel and all.”
“What’s a YouTube?”
A long tortured sigh. “Point is, no one has been looking for me. And you know what? It was alright!”
The other angel winced. “You are not done with your duties, youngling .”
“ Do not use that word on me, Jophiel. I am still doing my duties, sister .” The word felt venomous and bitter on his tongue. “Is Earth not also one of Her holy creations? I am protecting it, am I not?”
“You were not stationed here, Ophaniel.”
“Steven. And so what? It’s still my duty.”
Jophiel didn’t lose a bit of her temper and it pissed Steven off a bit. Okay, maybe a lot. “We are merely messengers of Her plan. It seems like you have taken the ideologies of man, not celestials, hmm?”
“You think only She could think beyond our understanding? Have you ever just thought that maybe our teachings were just… too inside the box?” Steven snapped.
“Her Plans are spread because it is right.”
“Oh, what, you think ideas spread because they’re good? No! Ideas spread because people like them!”
Then, a long silence. Even Shane and Ryan seemed to be speechless.
“The moon misses you.” A pang hit Steven’s heart. “Ophaniel, the guardian angel of the moon, why did you leave your most beloved creation?”
“I…”
(Ryan was listening intently, adjusting his red glasses as the conversation got more and more interesting. Steven created the moon; the man who he’d known since his early BuzzFeed days—who was a nervous creature, who spent hours managing their company’s money, who wouldn’t miss a chance to taste food—had made the moon under God’s guidance. A space satellite so important that Ryan never would’ve thought Steven fucking Lim constructed.)
“I… didn’t mean to,” Steven whispered. He could feel his throat tighten up, letting himself swallow deeply to keep his voice from trembling. “I just wanted to explore and interact with humans. I just…”
“Come home, Ophaniel,” Jophiel replied softly—it was a sickly sweet type of soft, somewhere between too nice and evil—as Steven’s name was uttered in a language older than time.
Enochian.
“Shit,” Shane cursed, knowing where this was going. “Ryan, we have to help him. Help me up.”
As soon as his name left Jophiel’s mouth, Steven froze. His eyes glazed over, taking a deep breath, his view fixated on the older angel’s face.
“Shane, what’s going on?” Ryan asked beside the taller man. “Why isn’t he saying anything?”
“Steven’s name was spoken in the language of the angels.”
“So?”
“It’s like a password to reset someone’s settings, basically. Who knows what that wretched place called Heaven would do to him?”
Before Ryan could react, Shane dragged him between Steven and the other angel. The demon dropped his human disguise, revealing goat legs and horns that earned him the fame of the Goatman. The cryptid’s red glasses gleamed in the dark and let his moth-like wings show itself. (Ryan could admit that he wasn’t that scary in a human form, but he’d rather still keep his humanity right now.)
“What’s this? Leave, demon and monster. Before I slay you two and take your friend away. This is a warning,” Jophiel growled, less angelic than he was.
Shane stood his ground, “Shut the fuck up, Jophiel. I know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it, you infernal speck of demonic scum?”
“Okay. One, ouch. Two, anything to get Steven back.” Ryan nodded vigorously.
“Who’s Steven?” Jophiel asked innocently, before commanding the young angel in the old tongue again. Steven summoned a spear from… somewhere and pointed it towards his friends.
“Fucking hell, I hate high ranks,” Shane muttered under his breath, warily watching Steven with the blade.
This is going to be a long night.
———
The light blinded Steven’s eyes as he groaned awake. He blinked a few times before moving around, noticing the soft comfort of the office pillow. His hand shook and his head pounded, Steven vaguely wondered if he was in Heaven. (As a metaphor for death, of course. He’d, uh, rather not go back.)
What happened?
The night before was a blur to him; the only thing that kept ringing in his ear was his angelic name in Enochian, a language he forgot was powerful. And then… Shane started chanting something. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t want to remember.
“Wakey, wakey, sleepy boy,” Shane grinned from his work desk, using a hand to open his headphones.
“Oh hey, you’re awake!” Ryan greeted. Steven noticed the goggles on his head.
“Today is a goggles kind of day, huh.” The cryptid shrugged. “How long was I out?”
The demon’s face hardened into a serious stare, tone awfully monotone. “3 weeks.”
“WHAT?!”
“He’s kidding, Steven. Just about, um, enough to get you back in the office. Like, a whole day, I think,” Ryan chimed.
“Oh, thank God, I thought I was fucked.”
“Nah, don’t thank Her for that,” Shane snickered.
“I mean, you were kinda fucked before Shane did the whole… thing. I dunno.”
“Meh, I just did shit I used to do. Was a Seraphim, remember?”
Steven does. It’s strange to him that Shane used to be one of the most powerful in the Host, before getting cast out. He doesn’t… look like it. “Yeah, yeah, thanks, guys. Now I’m going to actually pass out for three weeks.”
“Wait—!” the short man yelled. Both Shane and Steven turned their heads to look at Ryan confusedly. “Can you still make stars?”
“...yeah. Why?”
“Can you show me?”
“Of course, Ry. Right after I take a long fucking nap.”