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Every part of Gabriel knew that this was all wrong. There had been a plan. A brilliant plan, full of shining light and swords, glorious violence, and righteous victory, despite the great costs of war. Gabriel played to win.
But there hadn't been a war. There had been a fizzle, not a bang. That brat Adam had refused to play his part and thousands of years of preparation and and angelic machinations stopped spinning. Aziraphale had survived the hellfire. Gabriel didn't know how Aziraphale did it, but there must have been a trick to it. The alternative was that Aziraphale was in the right, Gabriel was in the wrong, and The Almighty had intervened. That couldn't have been the case. Gabriel was never wrong.
So he donned his ugly sweatsuit and ran. He wasn't often given to indulging bodily pleasures, but the sensation of his feet hitting the ground, the wind cutting his face, and the world passing him by helped him not to think. Experiencing the moment was something he was rarely afforded. Running was a poor substitute for the exhilaration and clarity of battle, but it would do for now.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, an intrusion. Michael. That was surprising. Michael did not like to bother themself with coming down to Earth. It must have been important. Gabriel slowed, and looped back around. Beelzebub was there as well. He plastered on his best "go fuck yourself" smile and went to greet them. He wanted to ask Michael how they could abide the smell, standing so close to Beelzebub. If Gabriel had taken to Aziraphale's disgusting habit of ingesting food while on Earth, the stench would have churned his stomach. Michael idly swatted away a fly from Beelzebub's ever present swarm and stepped forward.
"It's time to stop sulking, Gabriel," said Michael, blunt and efficient as always. It's what Gabriel admired most about them.
"One slight misfire and you're already colluding with the enemy, Michael?"
"Don't be so dramatic. We have a crisis. We all agree, something has gone terribly wrong."
Beelzebub shifted forward and cleared zir throat, but Michael stopped zem with a sharp glare and a shake of their head.
"Well thank you for that edifying report Michael. I don't know what you expect us to do about it. The Almighty has been quiet on the subject."
Michael and Beelzebub glanced at each other in a way that Gabriel decidedly did not like.
"We think," coughed Beelzebub, "we may have a solution."
Gabriel waited to see if there was more, but the unlikely duo before him seemed to be waiting for his go-ahead to continue. Gabriel raised his eyebrows, leaned in, and said, "So, you have my attention." He started tapping his foot for good measure. He cursed his running shoes and sweatpants. Human ticks like toe tapping and hand waving always looked so much more convincing in a suit.
"We believe that The Almighty is not paying attention. While working on our own," Michael started, but Beelzebub coughed again. Michael glanced back and threaded their fingers through Beelzebub's, and ze stepped in closer to them. Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Working together," Michael amended, "We've discovered a way to send someone back in time. Just a single entity, and we think the limit is about five years."
"You think you can go back and in five years correct the flaws that thousands of years of planning and careful monitoring couldn't account for?" Gabriel snorted.
"No," said Beelzebub, visibly agitated. "We don't think we could. We think you could, though."
Gabriel paused to think, but not for long. "What do I have to do?"
"This is a one way trip. You'll be stuck there," Michael cautioned, but they were already holding their hand out to give Michael something. It was a thick paper bookmark with "A. Z. Fell & Co." an address, and a phone number printed on it. It did not list operating hours.
"I know where Azriaphale works," Gabriel snapped, snatching the bookmark from Michael.
"When you're ready to go, rip the bookmark in half. It will turn back the clock and you'll be here, five years ago. If our calculations are correct."
Gabriel rubbed the bookmark between his fingers. "How does it work?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" spat Beelzebub. "Use it or don't. We don't care." Michael tutted at zem disapprovingly, but didn't go out of their way to disagree.
"Whatever you do, good luck," Michael said, and then the angel and demon departed together in a blink and Gabriel was in the park, with a bookmark, alone.
Gabriel asked himself, "What have I got to lose?" He shrugged and ripped the bookmark in two.