((Note: new chapter babey! slight tw for some drug use in this one, marijuana. it only now occurs to me i should have put a tw on the literal

murder but oh well))

Human life for Gabriel and Beelzebub had been significantly less pleasant. Gabriel had just barely managed to get the police off of Beelzebub's tail for the murder of the man who had lived there previously and Beelzebub continued to occasionally go downstairs and work, as she understood humans were supposed to do (though she was slowly running out of space to shove the dollar bills she was given). The main problem was that neither of them had any idea what to do - Boredom was the worst of it, and the vivid hatred of everything around them didn't help either. It wasn't long before a heavy air of despondence began to hang over them. It was a little past two in the morning when Beelzebub had come back upstairs, thoroughly bored with being downstairs and willing to give upstairs a try again, and flopped out on the couch. She had been getting lazy with maintaining her outer persona, and one or two flies had become used to her presence and and tended to wait near her seat. Gabriel was seated similarly on the sofa across from her, his suit jacket and scarf tossed aside leaving only the all white turtleneck. They both looked thoroughly bored.

"You see any angels?" Gabriel eventually asked.

"Nope," Beelzebub responded, "You see any demons?"

"Nope. How much longer do you think we're gonna have to keep this up?"

Beelzebub raised her eyebrows, not seeming to want to consider the subject. "I don't know," she confessed, "It could be a thousand years…"

"No, it won't be a thousand years, and you know how I know? Because by a hundred, I'll have killed myself," Gabriel said frankly, lifting a finger to make his point, "I mean, really, how do humans live like this? Nothing to do, no point in existing! It's exhausting!"
"From my experience they seem to rely heavily on escapism," Beelzebub responded, "They have an astounding number of methods for it."

Gabriel's eyebrows creased in consideration. "What kind of methods?"

"Sex is a big one."

A repulsed look appeared on Gabriel's face. "Ew. Pass. What else is there?"

"Public media's another one, movies, books," Beelzebub went on.

"Sounds boring."

"Food, drugs…"
"Food is gross, what was the second one?"

"Drugs?" Beelzebub repeated.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"They're chemicals, basically, humans aren't supposed to ingest them, really. But they make you feel all weird and humans seem to like things that do that for some reason. Big center of temptation, downstairs," she explained, "I've never actually tried them."
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. The final statement, he saw, was clearly a suggestion that she was willing to, and why shouldn't he be, too? There were no rules anymore, none that could control him. He may as well make some attempt to assuage the boredom - after all, it was technically true that it was the other angels who had pushed him to this point in the first place. "What drug makes things more interesting?"
Beelzebub shrugged. "Marijuana's a popular one," she recommended.

"Hm," Gabriel answered, and with a snap of his fingers, a cinder block sized brick of pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes appeared in front of the couch, along with a single lighter.

Within an hour or do the table was covered in ashes, Gabriel having tackled a solid 11 cigarettes with the lighter and Beelzebub taking on the slightly smaller 8 with a simple burst of Hellfire from her own fingers, and the both of them were essentially too stoned to do much of anything aside from sit there, occasionally stare in awe at their own fingers, and talk about universal theories that didn't really make any sense at all. After a long period of silence, Gabriel, who was reclined so far on the couch he was nearly on the floor, posed a question.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Hm?" asked Beelzebub, who was on the floor. Her voice buzzed lightly almost every time she spoke in a state like this.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, go for it," she answered.

"Before you fell did you still have… have flies buzzing around your head all the time?"

Beelzebub squinted, apparently trying to remember, and then blew out a puff of smoke. "No, when I was… when I was n'angel it was little fuckin'... butterflies," she said, and for some reason this seemed tremendously funny, and she broke into a fit of laughter, falling backwards onto the couch.

"Isn't it weird - shut up I'm - I've got a point here," Gabriel insisted, waving his cigarette.

"Don't tell me to shut up, you shut up!"

"No, listen, isn't it weird that like… humans associate colors with heaven and darkness with Hell… but Heaven is… it's all white. It has no colors. But Hell is black and that's like… all of the colors at once."

Beelzebub raised her eyebrows. "Whoa," she said.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed with a confident laugh of his own.

"Wait but isn't Heaven like… a garden?" she asked.

"Oh no, not for years," he answered, "It's sort of like an… an office building now."

"Really?" Beelzebub asked wistfully, "I haven't been there in a while…"

Gabriel repositioned himself slightly, turning to her. "Why did you fall?" he asked her.

Beelzebub looked sorrowful. "Shagged Lucifer," she responded. Gabriel's eyes went wide and he leaned sharply forward.

"What?"
Beelzebub broke into yet another laughing fit, shoulders shaking as her face went pink. "Your face!" she cried, through tears of amusement, "No! I questioned the almighty, like everyone else!"

Relieved, Gabriel leaned back onto the couch, letting out a long puff of smoke. "I think I have had too much of this drug," he announced, looking at his cigarette, now close to its end, "It's making me too gullible, you're gonna… pull something over on me."

"Afraid the nasty demon prince will breathe hellfire at you?" Beelzebub taunted.

"I'll smite you," Gabriel threatened.

"Will not."

"I will, watch." He picked up the lighter and, with a limp movement, threw it at Beelzebub. "There, see, you've been smitten," he said, struggling to hold back a laugh.

"You dare throw a lighter at the Lord of the Flies!" she cried, attempting to sound serious, but ultimately failing to suppress her own laughter. She picked up the lighter and threw it carelessly back at him, and though she missed by a foot, Gabriel raised his hands to protect his face. Once he was done laughing, he sighed.

"We have definitely had too much of this drug," he told Beelzebub, but he was still smiling. He made what seemed to be a real effort to sit up. "I'm going to try to… rid my body of it. You should probably do the same."
"Oh, I suppose," Beelzebub agreed, "We should keep these, though. First fun I've had in the past week."

Gabriel didn't object to that, merely raising his eyebrows at the concept. Then the two of them took in long, heavy breaths, puffing out their chests, and then breathed out. With their breath out came all of the smoke they had inhaled in the past hour, fogging up the room even more than it had already been fogged up. When that was done Gabriel made a short circular motion of his hand and then pointed to the kitchen, and all the smoke quickly bunched up, clearing the air, and obediently headed into the oven. He let out a sharp breath, clear minded again, and Beelzebub cracked her neck.

"That's a way to pass the time," she commented, sitting back up onto the couch.

"I'm sure it'll get old fast," Gabriel said cynically.

"Mm," Beelzebub agreed. She then creased her eyebrows, an idea clearly appearing in her mind. "What if…" she began.

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"What if we used this opportunity to find the traitors? They're probably still in London… and this could be a chance to regain our respective thrones."

Gabriel considered this, and then shook his head. "There's something strange about them. You saw what happened with the demon Crowley."

Beelzebub nodded. "I assume there was a similar situation regarding the angel."

"Unfortunately so," Gabriel said, "Problem is I'm not exactly sure what they're capable of. We're already in such trouble, we probably shouldn't get ourselves into something we're not prepared for."

"Fair," Beelzebub agreed seriously, "Then again… this could be our last chance to get them off our backs and go back home."

Gabriel looked at Beelzebub, tempted. "We'll monitor them. For now. But I'm not letting it get any riskier than it as to be," he assured her.

"I don't intend to," Beelzebub answered.

Within the next few days they had done as their agreement told them. Beelzebub had sent a few flies into the deviants' apartment, just as Gabriel had occasionally stood perched atop tall buildings and watching the actions of the both of them through the rooftops. As of now, they had few plans as for how to actually get rid of them, especially together. Besides, however much they hated to deny it, they were actually, in some ways, a hindrance to each other. Using hellfire to kill Aziraphale put Gabriel at risk, just as using holy water on Crowley threatened Beelzebub - and that was assuming they would work this time at all, which was unlikely. But they had few other methods to kill angels and demons - even as high up as they were.

Since the task seemed to discouraging and impossible it was easy to let it start to take a backseat, especially as more elements of human life had emerged. This time it was Beelzebub's turn to convince the police there was nothing going on, keeping them entertained as Gabriel miracle'd the literal hundreds of marijuana cigarettes to some empty cavity deep underground, only to return them, slightly dirty and damp, once they were gone. Speaking of such things, rumors spread surprisingly fast, and soon someone was walking into the store asking if 'it was legal' here. As soon as Gabriel and Beelzebub had figured out what exactly it was he was talking about they assured him that it was to them, and started up a sort of baby's first drug cartel, though it was nothing to sneeze at. It was a way to make money, anyway, much faster than the snacks did.

Furthermore, Beelzebub had become somewhat interested in food, occasionally experimenting with the concept at different restaurants or, occasionally, different dumpsters as it did intrigue her. Gabriel still refused to touch the stuff. He was far more interested in one of the few parts of human civilization he had actually enjoyed - fashion and design. He had begun bringing things back to the apartment to, and I quote, 'make it look less absolutely terrible', most of which were classical-looking paintings and very mature pieces of art. He had also insisted on 'correcting' Beelzebub's terrible fashion sense, and when she refused to buy new clothes he bought them for her, under the excuse that 'he wouldn't be seen with her looking like that'. For the first time in her life Beelzebub wore clothes that weren't covered in flies, dirt, and mold - which made her look all the stranger as she curiously tried a banana peel from the trash can.

Of course, this necessary adjustment meant that they had started getting slightly more careless with their agreement. Neither had left London, but within the city they had been fairly separated a number of times. It worked like this - the closer they were to each other, the more of their energies cancelled out. When they were shoulder to shoulder, they were virtually invisible. A mile or two from each other and they began to get slightly noticeable, perhaps mistakable for a devoted priest and particularly sinful politician. More than that and they began to truly seem like holy and unholy forces, but small ones, and they would only be observed at all by someone very diligent, and only suspected to be Gabriel and Beelzebub by somebody very paranoid. Heaven and Hell were certainly diligent enough to see them, but only one person was paranoid enough to know who they were. And that person was currently desperate enough about the situation to try something they hadn't tried in at least three hundred years.

In the dim bedroom Aziraphale looked upwards, and then glanced at the door. Crowley was busy at the moment doing something, but he tended to stay up later anyway, so hopefully he wouldn't barge in on him anytime soon. He cracked his fingers. He hadn't done this in a while. Somewhat nervously he put his hands together and let out a sharp breath. He shut his eyes tight.

"Alright. Here goes," he said softly, "Dear God. I don't… know if you're listening. Honestly it's probably best that you're not since… you never seemed to approve of this whole situation either. But… supposing you are, and, well… supposing you do… approve of the situation, I mean… I came to ask you for help." He sighed, a genuine tone coming into his voice as he got slightly softer, afraid Crowley would hear. "I know you don't owe me anything, but… I know that you can be a merciful God, if you try. I have seen it with my own two eyes… An angel and a demon are after me and Crowley again, and I think they have reinforcements. My guess is that it's Gabriel, though I'm not sure who the demon is… but either way we have no real way of defending ourselves, no more tricks to get us out of it! Crowley and I have a simple life on Earth… we don't want to cause any trouble. We just want to live with each other in peace. Please, O Lord, if you can… protect us both. Frankly, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if something were to-"

"Are you praying in here?"
Aziraphale frantically jerked around to face the door, seeing Crowley leaning against the doorframe. He probably should have known better than to expect to hear the door open and know that he was there, he figured. He had been a snake. He forced a smile, laughing nervously. "Praying, of course not!" he answered, "Why would I - why would I do that?"
"I don't know but it… certainly looks like what you're doing," Crowley answered, crossing his arms, "Why would you want the attention of the almighty now? We're just barely under the radar."

"I don't. I wasn't praying. I wasn't doing anything," Aziraphale said frantically, standing up to face him.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "If you say so," he said, sauntering into the bedroom. He pulled on his tie, taking it off and putting it on the bed. "I was thinking," he said, reclining onto it, "What if we took a little vacation?"
"A vacation?" Aziraphale asked, though he was somewhat distracted even still.

"Yeah. You know, get out of Europe for a while. Maybe we can go to Asia, haven't been to Asia, not for a good hundred years! Least I haven't, don't know about you." He paused for a moment - though what he'd said was technically a statement it still demanded an answer.

"Oh um - yes. Asia sounds lovely…" he said.

"Is everything…" Crowley began cautiously. He stopped.

"What?" Aziraphale asked.

"Alright with you?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, why… why wouldn't it be?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, I don't know, you've seemed…" he thought for a moment, considering the word, "Preoccupied?"
Aziraphale sighed. "It's just…" he began, "It's that… angel and demon."

"They left almost two weeks ago."
"I know that! Or at least, I think I do. I don't know if I'm just paranoid after everything, but… I keep sensing them, Crowley. In flashes. I think it's Gabriel and some… very powerful demon is with him. And very nearby. I think they may be concealing themselves somehow to keep tabs on us!"

Crowley looked at him sympathetically, sitting up on the bed. "Nobody's spying on us angel," he insisted, "And even if they were, it wouldn't matter, they still have no idea what to do about us."

"I know but it's just…" Aziraphale let out a sharp breath. He still didn't know how to say this part, after all these years. How to say 'you just don't understand'. So he didn't. "Nevermind," he said curtly, "Forget it."

Crowley creased his eyebrows. "Well, I'm sorry if I-"

"No, it's not you, it's…. You're right, I'm sure they've probably gone, so we can just… stop talking about it! It doesn't matter, let's just drop it and head to bed!"
Gently, worry clear enough in his tone, Crowley responded. "Alright," he told him.