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Aziraphale had done the best he could; and while the second coming hadn't been stopped completely by him, one could make the argument that he had been instrumental in convincing Jesus not to go through with it.
One could very easily make this argument.
Especially if that one was the Metatron, and he was putting Aziraphale on trial for stopping the second coming. (Technically Crowley had helped, but Aziraphale didn't want to bring that up, didn't want Crowley to get into trouble along with him. He would take all the credit, and all the blame.)
"I sentence you, Aziraphale, to Fall," the Metatron said, opening up a portal in the floor that would send Aziraphale hurtling down into a boiling pit of sulfur.
'It was worth it in the end', Aziraphale thought, keeping his face impassive. He had seen the video of Heaven's attempt at an execution, and it wouldn't do to have Crowley's acting ruined by Aziraphale now. Not when they were finally safe.
He stepped up to the portal, wings and limbs bound, and let himself just fall. He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. He would get to see Crowley soon, and that made everything worth it.
For a moment he was in free fall, and then with an "oof" he had hit something unimaginably soft. For a moment it felt like he was still falling, just in slow motion, and then he was heading back up to Heaven. The sigh of the wind maneuvered him upright and then he was there, in white halls, Grace still intact, wings still pure white, blinking in confusion as the portal closed underneath him. He was once again standing among the archangels, in front of the Metatron, and they all stared at him as baffled as he felt.
The Metatron frowned, and reopened the portal, "Must be a left over demonic miracle," he said, opening it right underneath Aziraphale this time. Aziraphale didn't even have time to comment before he was sent hurtling down, only to hit the same soft layer and be flung back into Heaven. This time they had closed the portal, but some force opened up again just enough to send Aziraphale on through.
"God favors threes. And sevens," Michael said through clenched teeth. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and -
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Fell
(Bounce)
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Again
(Up)
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Again
(Back to Heaven)
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Again
(Back to the archangels)
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Again
(This time he did a fancy little flip on his way up just because he could.)
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"Well then," Aziraphale said, trying to hide his utter confusion. "I believe that answers that."
"It's a trick, it has to be!" The Metatron seethed, walking towards Aziraphale. He started to open another portal, and then stumbled as the portal opened under him instead. They all watched him Fall, the softness that had protected Aziraphale refusing to show up for the Metatron.
"Are we quite finished?" Aziraphale asked, very much Not Okay and very much Faking It. He wanted to get back to Earth, back to Crowley, before the archangels had the bright idea to try any other methods of punishment. There was a pause, then his bindings were gone. "I hope we never have to meet again." He said, nodding politely and trying not to run to the elevator. It would be unseemly. He could hold off his hysterics until he was in the bookshop and drunk wondering what the actual... Heaven... Had just happened.
He needed a... Fucking drink.