Crowley hadn't died before. It was nothing short of a miracle really. He'd managed to keep hold of his human body for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like before he had walked on two legs and held a steering wheel between clenched fists. As he lay dying on his polished black tiles he wondered where he was supposed to get a new body from. They don't make them like they used to and after the whole Armageddon thing, he was sure Beelzebub would demand his corporeal body be burned and refuse to gift him another so he would never walk the earth again. Oh, how he would miss the pleasure of the human world. His glasses dropped off of his face and cracked against the floor.

'I know your games, angel.' Dagon said, 'You don't scare me. That's just normal water!'

'Any body of water in the hands of an angel is, by definition, holy water,' Aziraphale said calmly, 'That's my theory anyway. Care to test it for me?'

Dagon let himself take a step backwards, watching the water sway inside the little green bottle and wondering whether it would lead to his demise of simply curl his hair. He decided that the risk outweighed the reward. How embarrassing it would be to be destroyed by an angel with what the humans called "bed-head". He left without another word and when the door shut behind him Crowley's throat gave way to air once more. His lungs pulled so hard for air that he choked on it, collapsing onto his side as his body struggled to regain its natural equilibrium.

Aziraphale was all arms, fluttering and flapping around before lowering himself to his knees beside Crowley, 'Oh, my dear fellow! Are you quite alright? That nasty piece of…well, something quite awful at any rate! I haven't the faintest idea I that whole when an angel holds water it becomes holy lark is actually true or not, but at least it worked, old boy! Eh? Oh come now, your face is turning purple again now rather than blue. That's a start I suppose!'

Crowley had neither the heart nor the lungs to tell Aziraphale to pipe down. The angel helped him up to his feet again and let him take his rightful place in his bed.

'It's more used to now than it is me,' Aziraphale said, pulling the thick sheets over Crowley's long legs.

'It's still warm.'

'You're most welcome.'

Crowley's yellow eyes focused on Aziraphale. The soft, obedient angel had basically lied to save him. He put himself between a powerful and cruel demon…for what? Him? Crowley was sure he didn't deserve it, and when Aziraphale met his gaze it fell away. He pulled the sheets over his shoulders and lay down on his side, facing away from the angel.

'So,' Aziraphale said perching gently on the edge of the bed, 'They know about our little switcharoo, do they?'

Crowley muttered in agreement.

'And if they know, it's not so far-fetched to believe that Gabriel and the like have also come to that same conclusion.'

Crowley rolled over again and looked at the angel, whose face had turned grave, 'You think Heaven'll come after you?'

He gave a strange little shrug, 'Not sure.'

'Well, maybe we can pull a reverse of what you did tonight?'

'I'm not sure I'm following you.'

Crowley sat up and leaned back on his hands, 'As long as we stick together we can look out for one another and fend off those from the other side. So you can scare off any demons that come after me with your angel schtick and I'll protect you from any angels that try and come for you.'

'Ah,' Aziraphale smiled, 'An Arrangement of sorts?'

'You don't have to call everything we agree on an arrangement.'

Aziraphale sighed, 'I suppose it's all we've got,' he looked at Crowley, 'each other, I mean.'

'Better than a kick up the arse.' Crowley said before rolling over inside the sheets again.

'He said what?' Gabriel placed a hand on his chest and laughed loudly.

Dagon waited for him to stop, his face unchanged. The sun was starting to rise over the London smog, but Tower Bridge was still lit up like a Christmas tree.

'Oh wow,' Gabriel wiped a tear that wasn't there from his eye, 'That little marshmallow cracks me up sometimes.'

'He got in the way of our justice,' Dagon said, mud dripping down from his lips as he spoke, 'He's your responsibility, so get him out of the way!'

'Look, I don't know how your boss feels about the whole thing, but ours is pretty keen on brushing it all under the rug and leaving it behind. Aziraphale and Crowelly, or whatever his name is, decided they didn't want to be part of either team anymore, I'm not going to go chasing after them like some jilted human lover. It's all a little embarrassing, don't you think?'

'They tricked us!' Dagon spat, 'They betrayed us and they should be punished! We can't touch the angel, but he's getting in the way when we try and get Crowley.'

'What exactly is it you want from me?' Gabriel asked, brushing his lapel and watching the termites crawl in and out of Dagon's nostrils, 'I have orders to leave Aziraphale alone, we're not hunting him or looking to put him to trial. It's not really our thing anymore.'

'What happened to sentencing to Holy Fire?'

'After the end of the world didn't happen we had a little…change of heart about how we conduct our business.'

Dagon scoffed, 'Convenient.'

'I'm sorry,' Gabriel shrugged, 'I can't help you.'

'What if you recruit him again?'

'What?'

'If Aziraphale was on your side again it would be illegal for him to meddle in demonic business, wouldn't it?'

Gabriel frowned and tapped his chin with his index finger, 'You're pretty switched on for a demon. Where did they transfer you in from?'

'HR.'

'Ah, I see.'

'Lord of the Files.'

'Oh, that's good!' Gabriel clapped his hands together and laughed.

The Thames was the colour of toilet water, or whatever fluid was trickling out of the corners of Dagon's eyes.

'So do we have a deal?' Dagon extended his hand out.

The knuckles were so calloused that the skin had split in places and formed chasms between his fingers and Gabriel felt his stomach churn.

'I will talk with Aziraphale.' Gabriel agreed and pulled a handkerchief out of his inside pocket, 'If he is willing to be forgiven then we'll have him back on our side. But if not then you're on your own.' He shook Dagon's hand with the handkerchief separating them but the fabric came away and stuck to the demon's rotted flesh.


The rain was awful the next day. Aziraphale and Crowley travelled from the demon's flat to the angel's book shop and then stayed there for the remainder of the day. When it came to dinner time, Aziraphale started to long for something tasty so Crowley agreed to venture out into the storm and pick something up from a little Korean place that didn't deliver. Of all the places he could have had a craving for he had to choose the one that wasn't even on UberEats yet.

With Crowley gone Aziraphale began arranging the back of the shop in anticipation. He laid the table with all his best crockery, his nicest lace tablecloth and an old bottle of red wine that he had been saving to give Crowley for a special occasion. Immortal beings didn't have cause for celebrating anniversaries and a demon wasn't really the best person to celebrate Easter or Christmas with, so he thought a rainy day was good enough. He stood back from the table and beamed with pride. Crowley would love it, even if he didn't even say thank you Aziraphale would know that he was secretly pleased with the lengths to which he had gone to make their dinner nice in spite of the weather.

'Wanna spoon?' A familiar voice shot fear through Aziraphale and he leapt away from it, clutching at his tie.

Gabriel stood before him, holding up a spoon that he had picked up from the floor where it must have fallen. His light grey clothes were so clean it was like he was glowing and his face was painted with a wide grin.

'Aziraphale,' he spoke like he was happy to see him, which Aziraphale was certain was not the case.

'G-Gabriel,' He stuttered, 'T-to what do I owe the pleasure?'

'What, all this isn't for me?' Gabriel gestured to the table, still holding the spoon between his thumb and forefinger, 'No, of course, it's for that disgusting cretin you call a friend.' Gabriel's immaculate mask of composure slipped for a moment before clicking back into place, 'Exciting dinner plans?'

There was a strong part of Aziraphale that wanted to stand up and defend Crowley, but there was a stronger part of him that wanted to live and so he kept his mouth shut.

'I have come here today as a figurative olive branch,' Gabriel placed his hands on the top rail of one of the dining chairs and looked right at Aziraphale, 'We know what you and that heathen did. It was quite a clever plan actually. And we know why you did it. We understand. You didn't want a war. You wanted peace, which is what we all want. You could see that although another war with Hell would lead to our divine victory, it would come at the cost of countless human and angel lives and you didn't want that. Of course, you wouldn't. We understand. And we forgive you.'

Although Gabriel's face did nothing to hide his disdain, his words were exactly what Aziraphale had wanted to hear for a very long time. He was forgiven.

'You forgive me?' Aziraphale asked, 'For what?'

'For turning your back on the Almighty's plan and stopping the apocalypse.' Gabriel smiled sweetly. 'Sure, we were mad at first, but forgiveness is nothing if not our whole M.O., is it not?'

'I suppose…'

'I know what you're thinking, but Gabriel what does that really mean?'

He really did do a terrible English accent.

'It means you're back in the gang, Az. Azzy. Whatever.'

'The gang?'

'Heaven, dummy! You're back on the team, we forgive you and we want you back on the payroll. That is if you want to come back…'

Aziraphale considered what was being offered. He was no fool, he knew Gabriel could be tricky and had little desire to act in the interests of others. This could all be an elaborate trap to get him to sign up to the next attempt at the apocalypse. Or it could be what his heart had been searching for. Spending time with Crowley and being his own master had been fun, but Aziraphale was an angel. He was created to do good and to work towards the Almighty's goal for the world. Without any guidance or rules, he had felt so lost and filled his days with the pursuit of human pleasures such as delicious foods, luxurious naps and beautiful books. When was the last time he felt truly complete? No amount of food would satisfy him, only peace and goodwill.

'If I agree – to be forgiven that is,' Aziraphale said, 'Would that mean you get to order me around and send me across the world to perform whatever blessings and miracles you deem necessary?'

'Oh Heavens no!' Gabriel laughed from his chest, 'We don't want you back in business! No, you would be free to carry on the way you are now, but you would be held to our laws and be rewarded for the miracles and blessings that you do if you choose to do any. Think of yourself as a freelance angel.' Gabriel shrugged and started to wonder why he was offering all of this.

It wasn't he who decided that this whole forgiveness thing was a good idea, but when the Almighty had heard that the demons had suggested it She had to act quickly to ensure that they didn't start thinking that they were the generous ones.

'So I could keep doing what I'm doing, but if I wanted to do any miracles I would get rewarded for it?'

'Yes.' Gabriel said, his patience waning, 'but this is a limited time offer! If I leave this store without a deal then it's off the table for good.'

'Alright,' Aziraphale nodded, 'I accept. But only if I can stay friends with Crowley.'

'Do whatever if you want.' Gabriel shrugged and started to head for the door, 'As long as you don't start meddling in demonic matters that is.'

'Oh, don't worry about that.' Aziraphale waved him off, 'Crowley's not with them anymore-' he stopped, 'Wait!' but Gabriel had already gone.

Oh dear, he thought, I hope this doesn't affect our new little arrangement.

The bell on the door jingled as Crowley walked back into the book shop with two bags of takeaway food and drenched clothes. He clicked his fingers and his clothes and hair were dry again, 'What'd I miss?' he asked, setting down the food on the table and upsetting the plate arrangement.

'Nothing,' Aziraphale picked up the bag and straightened the plates again, 'nothing at all.'