Welcome to chapter 2! No trigger warnings! Focused on Aziraphale!
Aziraphale was never confrontational. He preferred to keep the peace and let everyone just get along with their lives. That was partly because he was an angel, but mostly because his morals were VERY important to him. After Armageddon, Aziraphale had realised that the Angel's he once classed as family were as evil as the demons from Hell.
Aziraphale was pondering over the fact as he dusted the withering books upon their shelves. He held the old feather duster tightly in his grasp, the only noise within the shop being his feet pressing into the aged carpet with every step he took, and the occasional flap of a books page being caught by the duster.
He dropped the item with a start, when the harsh rings of his telephone echoed through the empty store. As he rushed over, Aziraphale turned the sign on the door to closed, suspecting the caller to be Crowley on his mobile cellular.
Aziraphale picked up the old style phone, voicing into it. "Hello! You've reached Aziraphale! How may I help you?" He expected to hear the demons usual reply of, 'for Satan's sake, I know it's you Zira' but was met with a different familiar tone.
"Aziraphale, thank heavens!" Archangel Gabriel's voice flowed through the receiver like water slides off a duck.
"Gabriel?" Aziraphale held back his surprised, instead letting it fall out as a choked gasp. It had been the first time he'd heard from Heaven directly since Armageddon, leaving out the fact that Crowley had been taken there in his body. Aziraphale actually never got round to asking the demon about his experience there, and made a quick mental note to enquire about it later.
The angel on the other side sighed. "Yes, it's me." There was audible banging, followed by. "Yes, Micheal, I'm quite sure this is how you use a mobile!"
Aziraphale chuckled at the clueless cluelessness. He looked around his shop, scanning some shelves and allowing his eyes to rest on piles of books that he should've cleared up many moons ago.
"Are you quite alright, Gabriel?"
"Yes, I'm fine!" He snapped cruelly, before receding back into his usual persona. "Zira..." He said in the friendliest way he knew how.
Aziraphale was automatically sceptical. "Yes...?"
"What would you say, to doing Heaven a little favour?" Gabriel spoke in a sickening sweet manner. It had Aziraphale questioning if demons were the only ones that tempted mortal beings. But, of course, the angel was not mortal.
"I would ask what the favour was first." He replied matter of factly, taking the 'Crowley Approach.' "Take no bullshit from no one." He remembers that advice clear as day. Or was it "I made a bull shit in from of everyone." They were both a bit tipsy when Crowley said it, but Aziraphale likes to believe it was the first saying.
Gabriel laughed defensively. "You are a smart one."
Aziraphale paused. "Thank you?"
"You're welcome!" Gabriel exploded, and Aziraphale could see him flapping his arms like a child.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Aziraphale questioned, desperate to end the call as quickly as possible.
"Yes, Heaven needs a favour." Gabriel's tone changed drastically, from fun to serious and stern.
"No, no way." Aziraphale went to plop the phone down and walk away when Gabriel spoke again.
"And trust me... you'll want to hear this. You don't want to become a fallen angel... do you?" He sneered and Aziraphale pressed the phone closer to his ear, eyes widening in fear.
He stammered. "W-what ever do you mean?" Aziraphale stuffed back a sob, he'd seen Hell and had NO desire to go back.
Gabriel chuckled menacingly. "Aziraphale, you my boy, are already on bad terms with Heaven."
"I know that, but I don't quite understand what you mean. But nevertheless, let's hear what you want me to do." Aziraphale tried to sound confident, even holding himself up taller, hoping it would affect how his voice sounded.
"I'm glad." Gabriel replied. "We know of your... close relationship with the demon of Hell, Crowley-"
"First of all, that frien- relationship is strictly professional. I don't even like him!" The angel insisted, trying to assure he stayed on the good side of Gabriel. It occurred to him that angels aren't even allowed bad sides, it was part of their contract to be nice. As humans would say, 'it's in the fine print.'
Gabriel laughed. "Yes, I'm sure."
"What is it Heaven is requesting?" Aziraphale fiddled with his plaid bow tie with one of his hands, coughing as he waited for Gabriel's reply.
"We're sending you Holy Water, when it runs out, we will fill it. Fail to compete this mission will end in very serious consequences." Gabriel listed, and Aziraphale could tell he was reading from some crisp parchment. He said nothing and just awaited what Gabriel would say next. "Dispose of the fallen angel Anthony J. Crowley, or Crawley as he should be called." The archangel muttered the last part.
"Dispose of!?" Aziraphale exclaimed, keeping his eyes on a stack of books as a flask materialised upon it.
"Yes, Aziraphale." Gabriel sighed. "Do I need to dumb it down? We need you to kill him. Is that better?"
"I- I can't kill him! He's- that's not what we do! He's my best friend!" Aziraphale chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He kept eyeing the water in pain, swallowing his saliva that rapidly collected in his mouth. He shook uncontrollably.
"I thought you didn't even like him?" Gabriel taunted.
"Gabriel- look- I can't do this-"
"But you will. Heaven will be checking in this time next week. Do it, or reap the consequences." He hissed, very snake like... demonic. The door swung open and Aziraphale clearly heard Crowley's smart shoes sink into old rustic carpet.
"Hey, Zira!" Crowley called happily.
Aziraphale slammed the phone down a little too harshly and stalked out from behind a bookshelf. They talked, but the angel didn't really pay attention. He turned away from Crowley and miricalled the water away, not wanting to thing Aziraphale had alterier motives. He was shocked when the demon followed him, but shook it off.
The next thing he knew, the angel was asking if Crowley wanted wine. And he accepted. Well, at least the alcohol would loosen up.
Let's just hope he doesn't say anything stupid.
Words: 1,060
