Heaven - 4005BC

One year, two months and 23 days until The Beginning-ing

Crowley hurried out of the dark alleyway (well, as dark as any alley or indeed street could be in Heaven), a sinister air of conspiracy about him, his brows furrowed and his white hair concealing half of his face, yet he didn't find it at all difficult to disappear into the crowd of Angels all busy-bodying their way about to various appointments. They made Crowley want to vomit, what with their charming smiles and unrelenting optimism - it was enough to make even the most level minded human retch, and the humans were still in the prototype stage - far too many fangs and dangly bits to qualify as being God's greatest creation.

If anyone asked Crowley what he was doing every Thursday afternoon in the Alley (and they were bound to, Angels are adapted to have very long noses, perfect for sticking them into other peoples' business. Crowley always said that the best way to spread a piece of news is to tell it to an Angel in confidence), he would always give them something vague or uninteresting like he was 'restringing his lute' or 'plucking his wing feathers', and upon the realisation that nothing juicy was going on, the Angel would quickly move on.

The truth of why Crowley frequented the Alley was in fact very juicy indeed, even for Angel standards. Crowley had, over millennia, realised that he was well and truly sick of this whole righteousness thing. Why follow God? She was just an old bat with a superiority complex - She had grown tired of being adored by Angels, She was now working on humans so She could have yet another species grovelling at Her feet, and Crowley would be damned if God didn't just forget all about the Angels the second these humans came along. He, and a growing number of Angels, shared this view. Every Thursday, they would gather one by one in the Alley, to be admitted to the rebel base and given a rousing speech by Lucifer himself - which always ending with raucous applause and very unAngelic noise, leaving Crowley with a lifted mood, and the fire of rebellion in his heart.

The golden haired Lucifer, whose piercing eyes and carefree smirk (coupled with his natural charisma), was a natural at this whole rebelling thing, he seemed the only one who was in no way anxious of what would happen if She found out. It was a terrifying thought that dwelt in the mind of every rebel, and not even the most confident could disguise the jittery darting of the eyes that accompanied an especially controversial comment by Lucifer. One had to admire Lucifer for his blind idiocy if for nothing else - no one else in Heaven would be so stupid as to organise a rebellion, yet he was the one who was. And any individuality in Heaven was about as common as a human without any dangly bits.

Crowley entered the elevator at Aziraphale's office block and began the slow ascent to the one hundredth and forty second floor. The Angel had been offered the ground floor office to avoid this very inconvenience, yet he had smiled graciously and said he 'preferred the view' from up there. In Crowley's opinion, any Angel stupid enough to have a floor number higher than their IQ shouldn't be given the responsibility to choose in the first place. Well Crowley would think that, given that he had at least twenty minutes of elevator time a day to be resentful about it (and Aziraphale believed that Crowley would in fact be upset should Aziraphale move his office, as then he would have to come up with something else to complain about).

At long last, the ping of the elevator signalled that Crowley had reached his destination. He strode his familiar route past gleaming offices, each with their shining minimalist designs, and he burst into Aziraphale's. Now, many offices in Heaven have the exact same, gleaming white facade, all of them in fact - except for the one Crowley was now standing in. He wasn't exactly the type to criticise interior design, but he had heard enough mutterings amongst the other Angels to know that Aziraphale's choice of decoration wasn't necessary popular. Where there should have been empty, open space, there was instead Clutter. This was truly a mess of biblical proportions. Stacks of books towered towards the ceiling, and threatened to discorperate any Angel who thought to himself I wonder what would happen if I pulled a book out? (And despite natural selection being a heathen myth etcetera you could see how it at least had a sense of humour). Shelves upon shelves of dusty ornaments covered the walls - this paired with the Angel's choice of a plush carpet gave the room a quaint atmosphere.

"So, Aziraphale" Crowley directed at the very startled Angel who was seated at his disgustingly large desk "The rebellion - Lucifer says that war could be only weeks if not days away, promise me-"

"A hello would be nice, dear, if it's not too much to ask" Aziraphale cut him off, holding his hands out in a surrendering motion, and Crowley caught his meaning immediately - Be quiet, the walls have ears (quite literally, in Aziraphale's case) - and marched to the behemoth of a desk, practically laying flat on it so he could whisper to the other Angel "promise me I won't have to fight you"

Aziraphale started at Crowley's sudden intensity and emotion - if he didn't know the other Angel better he would have thought that he was about to cry or burst into song "You know as well as I do that I'd sooner di.. be discorperated than have to fight you" Aziraphale replied, standing up and rounding the desk so he could speak straight into the other Angel's ear "and you know as well as I do that I would win" He said, his voice dripping with self-righteousness. At this, Crowley would have made an exclamation referring to male cow excrement, but curse words hadn't been invented yet (They were in fact invented in 1745BC by Harlem J Profanity, forever remembered as history's worst role model).

"Rubbish!" Crowley replied instead, scoffing at the thought "No offence, mate, but I'd wipe the floor with you"

"I thought the point of this talk is so we wouldn't get to see who would win?" Aziraphale responded sharply

"Good point, you never promised me it wouldn't come to that" Crowley said soberly, backing away from the other Angel

"Look, Crowley, I promise, I'd sooner die than fight you, do you want me to sign my name in blood or something because that can be arranged"

"No, no, it's fine, although that whole blood thing could be a good business venture once Heaven is liberated. And..uh... by the way Aziraphale" The angel turned around to look at him "I wouldn't let my side harm you, even after we win, I talked with Lucifer and we worked something out"

"Most reassuring" Aziraphale tutted and turned to look out at the spectacular view "I have the word of the Angel who is making a living by lying to everybody. What could possibly go wrong?"

-———————————————————————

The slam of the door as Crowley left had a frightening ring of finality to it, and Aziraphale almost wished he had said goodbye properly or wished the Angel good luck in the war. What was Crowley thinking? A rebellion against the Almighty? Even for Crowley's standards this was base - and now his misadventures were going to get him killed.

"For God's sake!" Aziraphale exclaimed in a rare display of emotion as he slammed both palms onto his desk (which some theoried was large enough to house a small family).

"Yes?" Spoke a disembodied Voice from directly behind Aziraphale, who promptly shot out of his chair and began to sweat profusely

"Umm...uh... nothing your Holiness, ju- just praying for guidance is all" Stammered the panicking Angel

"Aziraphale" the Voice spoke again with an admonishing tone "You are as good a liar as you are an interior designer, but I've been meaning to talk to you regardless"

"Oh? I would offer you tea but..." he gestured upwards "you know..."

"Well if you're offering refreshments, I'd love a biscuit" God said in Her best it's technically you're choice but I'll smite you if you don't comply voice.

"Absolutely... Lord, anything at all" Aziraphale scrambled for his biscuit tin and remained entirely calm as a custard cream went flying out of the open window of it's own volition.

"So, Aziraphale, I wish to talk to you about the rebellion." God said bluntly

"Rebellion? Well, I'll keep an eye out but I haven't seen anything you could call particularly rebelli-"

"Do not lie to me, Angel" She didn't need to raise Her voice to literally instill the fear of God into Aziraphale, who looked ready to collapse.

"There is a rebellion afoot and you know it. The only unknown is what they plan to do and you, Aziraphale, are going to tell me" God's tone didn't leave many loopholes for the Angel to wiggle around.

"I have indeed been talking with some... associates-"

"Crowley" God interjected

"Yes, Crowley, but all he has said is that Lucifer is planning a war, he said it could happen within days. They have meetings every Thursday and have a large following, please believe me, truthfully, that is everything" Aziraphale rushed through this and felt emotionally drained, but Crowley hadn't technically made him promise not to fess everything up to the Almighty, but he was sure that regardless Crowley wouldn't be best pleased.

"Lucifer? Can't say I didn't see this one coming if I'm honest, but even he knows that a war is just too much paperwork. He has backed me into an administrative corner, it will take weeks to finish all of their immigration documents."

"I beg your pardon, Lord, immigration? Are the rebels going somewhere?" Aziraphale felt oddly concerned about this offhand comment from God, but the Almighty works in mysterious ways etcetera...

"I'm afraid, Angel" God said matter of factly "that such intell is above your pay grade"

And with that the Almighty left, leaving a shaken Angel and a room that was several shades darker than it had been beforehand. Aziraphale sprinted around his desk (no mean feat) and wrenched the up the telephone.

"Miss me already?" Drawled the confident voice of Crowley from the other side

"Listen to me, Crowley, we need to talk"