"Actually, I was rather hoping that you would do me a favour on that one."
"A favour !" Crowley uttered, peering over his sunglasses in disbelief. "To you ?"
"Yes."
"On what ground ?"
"Well… do you remember those assignments in the United States, back in the 1930s ?"
The 1930s. Not the greatest of decades, by any standards.
And, for the pair, it was also a time when they barely spoke to each other – it had been going on for about seventy years. But at least, these assignments Aziraphale was alluding to had been an opportunity to make the Arrangement work once again.
(They had not spoken to each other, though. Letters had been used to seal the deal.)
"Sure, Crowley said. I remember you took charge of that."
"Both the curse in New York, and the blessing in Midland, yes", Aziraphale said after a hesitation. "Well… you see, things didn't go exactly as planned."
"How so ? Did you not manage to curse mine, like I told you ?"
"Oh, yes !" Aziraphale assured. "Terrific. Absolutely great. Great… great curse, he added almost with conviction."
"What went wrong, then ?"
"Well, what with a thing and another, I… I am afraid I made a bit of a mix-up, really."
Crowley's eyebrows had reached new horizons, and were now competing with skyscrapers.
"Meaning ?"
"Meaning", Aziraphale said while wringing his hands, "that, after performing your curse in New York – which went well, I think –, instead of… of just giving nice dreams that would give nice inspiration to my Midland target, I somehow… made him invent clingfilm."
Crowley's mouth opened, but at first, no sound came out of it, and he looked rather like a fish that got pulled of the water without being as dead as would have been in its best interests.
"Ooh !..." Crowley said after a while. "Oh, this is bad."
"It was purely unintentional !"
"Think of all the times the damned bit got maddeningly wrapped up upon itself and…"
"I only wanted to help !" exclaimed Aziraphale in distress.
"Decades of frustration. And anger."
"To be honest, I still can't quite understand how I did that."
"Did you really, though ?" the demon asked, with a broad grin. "You swear you're not making this up ?"
"Would I try and trick you ?"
Crowley felt rather mortified for even asking.
People who believed Aziraphale capable of fooling anyone did not make this mistake twice[1].
"Anyway, the angel said, needless to say that Heaven wasn't so pleased about it."
"Oh yeah ? I wonder why !"
"They considered that it favoured your side."
"How did they react ?" Crowley asked in earnest.
"Well, there was a bit of a telling-off, but, mind you, nothing too scary. They only ascribed it to clumsiness", he added with a bit of shame. "I was back on Earth in no time flat."
"Oh. Ok", Crowley managed to say without appearing too concerned.
"Which brings me to my conclusion", Aziraphale resumed. "You scored two points on this one, while I achieved nihil."
"Debatable."
"Not according to my superiors. Nor to the humans themselves", he added sheepishly. "And, therefore…"
He nodded towards the executed-to-be that still stood motionless a few feet away from them.
"I believe that should allow me to decide of this gentleman's fate."
"Well, I still think it's debatable."
"If you want", the angel said tentatively, "we could say that I have it for now, but that I give you a chance to gain it back."
"Er… Nah. It's fine. You can have him."
"Oh ? Really ?"
"Yes. Seriously", said Crowley, who had seen how pleased Aziraphale was.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh but…" stammered the angel, as a thought suddenly crossed his mind. "What would they think about it, downstairs ?"
"Hm ?"
"I mean… Won't you get a reprieve of some sort ? Surely Hell won't accept that you didn't comply with your assignment. And, my dear, the last thing I want is that you should get punished for… for what we do. The possibility that they might destroy you…"
"Oh, no", quickly interrupted Crowley with apparent nonchalance. "Don't you worry about that. I got a commendation last month, which is practically a safe-conduct for whatever mess one finds oneself into. Mind you, it's only temporary, so I might as well use it now."
"A commendation ? What for ?" asked the angel with suspicion.
Crowley flashed a smile at him.
"Clingfilm."
"Really !" said Aziraphale, whose eyes grew even wider.
"No, of course not. There are days when Hell wouldn't spot a curse if it threw stinking fireballs at them in a corridor. Not, not that."
And Crowley said :
"The whole xxth century."
"The… ? But it's not fully over yet. By ten years !"
"Yeah, but, you know, what with everything that has been going on, and the fact that the Cold War apparently reached its end, my people thought that the whole show was as good as over, and that I should get an early applause before the fall of the curtain. All great artists do, he added by way of explanation."
To be fair, Crowley felt more than a bit embarrassed. Of course, he wouldn't have said no to a commendation for something evil he had really invented. Like the M25. Or modern bureaucracy. But since the Spanish Inquisition, he tended to stay away from genuine human horrors.
The problem is, it was very dangerous to turn down anything that Hell sent you, even if it was a Mephistophelian pat on the head.
But, well. Nothing to do but to put a brave face on it.
"Still", said Aziraphale, whose face retained a somewhat severe and pained expression, but who was determined to go back to the matter at hand. "If you come back from this assignment and you have nothing to show for it, what will they think of you ?"
"Oh, nothing bad, really. They'll just ascribe it to clumsiness."
Aziraphale looked at him and smiled gratefully.
Crowley returned his look – though it wasn't easy to see, what with the glasses and it being Crowley – and a corner of his mouth twitched slightly upwards.
Then the demon made a few lazy paces towards the object of the whole exchange. He let his gaze linger curiously on the crouched man's figure.
"It's a shame, really", he finally said. "For once, I really wanted to save him."
"That's just too bad", replied calmly Aziraphale. "I am here to make sure that he dies."
1 Except Aziraphale.