Aziraphale wasn’t sure what constituted a ‘perfect angel.’ Was it in God’s eyes, or the Archangels’? Either way, he was certain he did not meet that bar. After all, he had lied straight to God Herself before. He had let himself get... too close to a demon.

No, he was not a perfect angel. But he had tried to be good, at least. Tried to do what he believed to be right. Perhaps that was what was his undoing.

The old bookstore had been taken care of. That was... surprising. Were he not too exhausted, he might have been pleased. But his wings were still smoking, his clothes covered in soot from the fall.

The fall. He had not intended to fall. He tried to claw his way back up, but alas, no avail. The only thing he could think to do was return to his bookstore, the exhaustion overwhelming him. A fallen angel. Well, it was bound to happen.