[A/N: Sorry it took so long for stupid second chapter.  Got a lot of "No-likey" beta-ing from multiple peoples ::bows before her beta for little tid-bits, her delta for opinions, and her gamma for mutilating it with the truth and many much needed grammar corrections::.  They've been now either ignored, acknowledged, embraced, or considered.  This is my fic.  I can do what I want with it.

No.  That's not really true.  The main two characters are not mine.  And I apologize now for all OOCness.  Will be EXPLAINED at the end.  Enjoy! (::hopes?::)]

ONE GOOD SOUL (And the Corruption Thereafter)

Chapter 2: Dealings and Acquaintances

"Well done, Angel.  Well done."

What? Angel?!

Wynter screamed.

"Oh, Beelzebub be blessed! Aziraphale!"

"Well, it's not my fault that she was there.  Really, there was no reason that I should know that! I mean, you of all people should know that we don't keep the records on the volunteers; that would just mess up things—"

"And you think things are not messed up as it is?! For blight of Satan, Angel, take care of the girl!"

"Why me? You're the one who brought her up to be the subject, so go ahead, take your first test results: Test Number One, Subject under stress that she is the shared topic of an angle and a demon freaks out and tries to run away! Really, sounds just marvelous to me!"

"This is not the time for sarcasm, Aziraphale—wherever it is you got it from! And you need to take care of her, because you're the nice-guy sympathizer, REMEMBER?!?!"

"All right, all right!" Aziraphale, completely out of his normal temperament, seemed about to explode. "Just stop YELLING!!!"

Hearing an angel scream in pure anger and frustration seems to have some sort of strange affect on mortals.  Especially on those particular mortals who are currently trying to get /away/ from that angel.  Wynter found that, although she had just managed to get the door open, she was unable to move her legs in any reasonable manner, and that she was also unable to move her eyes away from the source of that anger, and in her eyes, her lawful enemy.

Aziraphale was, literally, fuming.   Fortunately for Crowley, Wynter, and all the first edition "Old World" English books in the room, angels have unmatched limits of self control as far as unintended usage of magical powers go (second only to God, when he finds that in drawing from the deck, he gets a two of clubs instead of hearts, which would have been the winning card in his ineffable game of solitaire).

"This… will not… do."

Wynter felt an intense weight come away from her feet, as if she  was being released from some invisible chain that had held her up during the argument that had just pursued, and found herself falling to the ground out of exhaustion.  The lights seemed to fade out with every inch of air, and before it was completely dark, she could almost guarantee she had heard her head hit the floor with a rather loud smack…

Upon awaking, Wynter found herself still in the classroom, but that only the demon remained. Strangely enough, she found this more comforting than if the angel had been there as well.

"It's a good thing you woke up. Our angel boy was getting quite worried," said Crowley. "Normally he doesn't get that worked up about things. But, then again, you are a bit of a special case…"

Wynter just stared at the figure in front of her, who was currently was shuffling through the book shelves in a random order, as if he was avoiding her gaze.

"Who are you?"

Crowley stopped short in his attempt to reach a fifth shelf book, and let loose a heavy sigh.

"Well, like you heard: I'm a demon. Well, I was an angel once, but that was an incredibly long time ago… well, anyway," Crowley nodded his head at her in a mannerly fashion, and then continued with placing the fallen books back on the shelves, seemingly like he was used to the ordeal.  "Anthony J. Crowley, here.  You're Wynter, right?"

Wynter shook her head in disbelief. "Wait, now, just… just wait one second! I thought that demons were… well, erm-"

"Bright red with horns and spiked tails with a pitchfork and whip in each hand? Not quite.  We /can/ of course look like that, need be of course for the advertisements and all, but that's mainly derived from when my… um, Lord Satan… decided to play the part for All Hallows one year, just so he could be a surface dweller for a bit.  Well, you can tell as well as anyone that that stuck on pretty damn well."

There was a pause in the conversation, and a momentary transition of unease to calm. Wynter tried to start the conversation up again, not wanting silence to ensue for too long, simply because inactivity wasn't a quality she could appreciate. "Why are you two being nice to me, or even talking with me, for that matter? And what's all this about 'test subject' and such? I mean, sure, I admit it's kind of cool in a minor fashion getting to meet, ah, two individuals such as yourselves, but I mean, c'mon!  What do you two have to do with me at all?"

The demon just sort of stood there for a moment, looking a bit dazed by the fact that she had actually brought up /this/ particular subject.  He had been hoping that the fall might have had an affect on her memory, seeing as under the circumstances he wasn't allowed to alter her perspective in any way.  Crowley was contemplating how exactly he was going to answer her question without actually saying anything of consequence, or being the demon that he was and yelling at her whilst most pointedly refusing, when a much appreciated knock on the door took him away from the desperate girl's eyes.

Aziraphale was at the door, still looking both a little bewildered and pale—for an angel, that is. Crowley took a quick look back at Wynter, gave a masked and faked expression of apologetic concern, then trained his attention back to the angel, and stepped outside, shutting the door silently behind him.

"So did you get into the files?"

"Yes…" answered the angel, a bit somberly.  Aziraphale looked like he had just gone through a premium carwash, whole body dragging to the ground, except for the fact that he wasn't covered in suds or dripping water on the hallway concrete.  "You were right; she qualifies just fine, even with the… incident.  Heaven is pleased with the selection, although I think they would have satisfied themselves with almost any choice.  They were literally rooting for the project at its production." Crowley prepared to answer the question that he knew was coming up, but dropped short when Aziraphale added almost absent-mindedly "How is she?" in an innocent kind of tone.

"Yes, the underground devils were dancing with fury," spilled forth from Crowley's mouth before he could reshape the words to the question that had actually been asked.

Crowley recovered quickly when the angel looked up at him pensively. "She'll be all right.  More shocked than anything, really.  You know what an angel's fury can do to some people, especially those as unaccustomed to the world as herself-"

"Yes, yes… that's, that's good then." Turning toes to go back inside (having resolved that point blankly ignoring her questions all together would be the best track from here on in), Crowley stopped, and turned to find Aziraphale with a very puzzling look spread across his face.  The demon looked into the eyes of his angel friend and tried to fathom the emotions that sprinted through them the moment those words were muttered, but Crowley never was the good at recognizing gracious relief or intentional sympathy, so it passed him by.

"You can come in, you know. Actually, you'd better if you still intend this damned thing to work out.  She just asked about the project—not directly, of course, but close enough—so it would be a very good thing if you could come in and help me out here. Don't want to go cursing our subject before we even begin, now.  You're okay with it?"

"Oh, I'm just fine with it! Just, will she be well enough if I come in…?"  Aziraphale was honestly worried for the girl, as any angel would be, after all.

"Yes.  Just… don't be too forward with her.  She's liable to be a good deal frightened with you still, with good right.  Not in my line of work to care, but it'll be some bad news if this goes sour.  This project you've thought up."

"Yes… yes, yes.  That will be good, then."

The demon proceeded to open the door a crack, and then almost closed it again in order to whisper behind:

"Oh, and do put the wings away, Aziraphale.  We don't need to frighten her with any more unnecessary celestial presence, now, do we?"  It almost sounded as if the demon was sarcastically tempting the demon to see what would come of such a foolish action.  Fortunately, having known his devilish companion for a good many centuries, Aziraphale had lost that gullibility some time ago.  Or, at least to the extent required for this situation.

Crowley opened the door fully and walked in as if none of the past few hours had happened; a hesitant angel followed in behind.

[A/N: Yes.  So I'm sure I've lost some audience members now, because of what you've read.  I thank all and everyone who commented on the last (first) chapter, and I encourage more for this! CRITICISM GOOD!

Ah. *Ahem* Yes, the OOCness of it all.  Well, I had an idea of how I wanted the two portrayed, and I conveyed it better in this version than the original, I think.  The original was done with the two main characters in the head… but both sharing a body.  Get's a little confusing who says what opinion and all in that kind of situation.  Notes:

(1) Some of the things Crowley says are b/c I'm skipping around the swearing lot of it.  Who says demons can't be a tad respectful in their speech?

(2) Aziraphale yelling.  I can personally see him doing it.  I don't know.  Take it well or leave it hating me.

(3) I know that Crowley calls Aziraphale "Angel" a good deal more than he did in comparison to the book.  This is kind of just my take.  I'm not intending any loving or slashing in this fic!  The "Angel" is just my donation to what seems almost the inevitable truth and cause of this fandom… nothing more.  ::grins slightly:: And it's cute.

(4) A good lot of their strangeness (particularly here concerning Crowley when alone with Wynter) is because of the "project."  Will be explained… LATER!

Okay.  Coming up we've got the calm *HA!* confrontation and meeting of the three characters, some skirting around the edges of what is really going on, a bit with the Bentley, and Wynter just about ready to smack Crowley and know Aziraphale senseless enough that she can run home and forget all about it.  Of course, we won't REALLY let that happen now, will we?  Also, for those who are getting annoyed, chapter for shall be wholefully dedicated to the "project," and will  be explained so far as even what the angel and demon know put together.  Hope I haven't lost too much of you who liked the first chapter.  COMMENT!]