'Hi, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style.'
Aziraphale set down the receiver and blew a sigh out into his cheeks. It had been two weeks since he had heard from Crowley. The plan to switch bodies to fool their respective superiors had gone off without a hitch on the angel's side, but Crowley hadn't arrived at their meeting spot. He didn't show and hadn't showed since. Aziraphale had checked Crowley's flat, but found no sign of him. The Bentley was in its normal parking spot. He had been to the Ritz and the rest of their favourite hang outs, but he couldn't find him anywhere.
It was a cold Monday afternoon when Aziraphale finally found his friend. The tall demon sauntered coolly down the street like he had not a care in the world and Aziraphale turned the open sign to closed on the door of the shop and pushed out onto the street.
'Crowley!' he called, fumbling with the key to lock the door and flitted across the road to catch up with him, 'Hey! Stop!'
Crowley didn't stop, he carried on walking with his shoulders low and his hands slung casually in his pockets.
Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed as he caught up with Crowley, 'Where have you been?' he hissed under his breath, 'When you didn't turn up to the meeting spot I thought the worst!'
'Leave me alone,' Crowley muttered. That's when Aziraphale noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses.
'Crowley, whatever's the matter?'
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's collar and threw him at the wall, pinning him in place, 'How do you know my name and what do you want?'
Aziraphale felt all words fly from his reach. He stared up into the yellow eyes of his dear friend and saw no recognition there, 'it's me,' he said, his voice trembling, 'Aziraphale.'
'An angel?' Crowley scoffed in disdain and let go of him, 'Stay out of my business, White Wings.'
'White wings?' Aziraphale gawked and straightened his jacket, 'How dare you! Where do you get off speaking to me like—now, hang on. Where are you going?'
Crowley rolled his eyes and kept walking in the direction he had been, but the angel wasn't about to give up without a fight.
'What have they done to you?' Aziraphale asked, almost jogging to keep up with Crowley's long strides, 'Do you really not know me or are you just pretending because they've threatened you? You can tell me you know. I can help.'
'What have you been smoking?' Crowley gave a cruel laugh, 'Go back to your clouds and leave me alone.'
'My goodness, you are being quite rude you know!' Aziraphale said, 'suddenly you seem just like any other de—' He stopped dead in his tracks and Crowley carried on walking.
He seemed just like any other demon. But Crowley wasn't like other demons, he never had been. He was a complex thinker with his eyes on the bigger picture. He wasn't cruel he was just mean. He was capable of empathy and kindness whether he liked to admit it or not. Even when their friendship had been in its infancy, Crowley had been the one more often than not to initiate conversation. It was he who wanted to get to know the angel and set up a mutually beneficial Arrangement with him. He had never called him White Wings, a slur thought up by some pretty stupid demons that nevertheless was hurtful to most angels. It basically meant naïve and stupid, as demon's wings were also white before they rebelled and Fell.
Aziraphale knew that something had happened to Crowley. Some may have called him naïve to believe so, but he was certain Crowley would never act that way under normal circumstances. Something had gone wrong and he was determined to find out what.
Crowley walked slowly into the church and cracked his neck. The Holy Ground burned his feet but he kept walking regardless. The group of men knelt down at the alter, deep in focus while a woman lay on the ground, bound to a dirty mattress and convulsing.
Aziraphale knew an exorcism when he saw one and did not like where things were heading. He snuck in behind Crowley and crouched behind one of the pews.
'Excuse me,' one of the men stood up as Crowley approached, 'How did you get in here?' He froze when he saw the demon's snake eyes and tried to scream but Crowley's hand closed around his throat.
Aziraphale felt his heart jump up his throat. What was he doing? If any of those men reach for the Holy Water or a Cross he was done for.
Crowley opened his jaw wide and snake fangs grew down into his mouth. The man screamed before Crowley buried his teeth in his neck. He tore out a chunk of flesh and spat it aside before dropping the man. Dead.
Aziraphale's stomach lurched and he put a hand over his mouth. The other men scrambled to their feet and ran but Crowley stood in their way and grabbed them both by the jugular.
'You wanted a demon, boys,' he hissed, 'You got one.'
One of the men started to whisper the words of the exorcism and Crowley laughed.
'You think Latin's going to save you?' He ripped the man's throat out with his fingers, 'Who do you think had a hand in inventing it?'
The front of the other man's trousers were wet through, his eyes dripping with tears of terror as he pleaded with Crowley to spare him.
'Not a chance,' Crowley hissed again and opened his jaw.
'Enough!' Aziraphale shouted and marched up the aisle, 'That is quite enough, Crowley. Now you put this gentleman down and restore the lives you took.'
Crowley watched Aziraphale before closing his fist around the surviving man's neck, crushing his windpipe and the top of his spinal cord, 'You again?'
'This isn't you, Crowley,' Aziraphale said, his eyes momentarily moving over the girl who was still tied to the old mattress and was now spattered in blood, 'Stop this behavior right now and come and have a nice cup of tea with me. We'll straighten all this out in a jiffy.'
'I'm a demon!' Crowley growled and leaned down at Aziraphale. The angel had never seen such anger and disdain in his face. It was like someone else was wearing it. 'I don't have tea with angels. I kill and tempt humans to their destruction and if an angel gets in my way then I'll kill them too.'
He hissed and bared his fangs at Aziraphale, who felt himself growing more cross by the moment, 'Last chance,' he warned with a pointed finger.
Crowley opened his jaws wide and Aziraphale slapped him across the face. The sound reverberated off of the stained glass windows and high ceilings and send shudders through the angel's body.
'Now,' he said, puffing out his chest, 'Restore the lives you took and come with me this instant!'
Crowley growled harshly and brought up a bloodied hand to strike the angel but Aziraphale waved a hand and said, 'sleep,' and the demon crumpled to the ground at his feet.
Aziraphale straightened his lapels and breathed life back into the men Crowley had killed, although not before setting the poor young lady free. He clicked his fingers and transported both he and the demon back to his book shop. Crowley lay sprawled out across the floor while Aziraphale fixed them both a hot cup of cocoa.