Dislcaimer - They belong to Neil and Terry. Well, except the rest of the people included in this fic (and Queen, naturally). They belong to themselves.

Friends will be Friends

Crowley was furious. It was a state he found himself in occasionally, but nothing like right now. He was completely and utterly pissed off! At Aziraphale for deciding to get the tickets to the show, at the band for making a complete mockery of...of everything! But most especially at that stupid, stupid human who thought...

"I'm sorry dear, it's just, well, I thought that you might, er, I am truly sorry."

He knew Aziraphale wasn't lying. Not only did Aziraphale usually never lie to him, but it was plain to see that guilt was written all over the angel's face whenever he decided to take his angry glare off the road to glare at the passenger seat instead. Silence once again ruled in the Bentley. He wasn't going to put on any tapes, and the radio did not interest him in the least. What he wanted was something soothing, to make the nightmare that had been the last few hours to disappear. And alcohol, oh yes, that would go down very nicely right now.

"Please say something, Crowley. This is getting really awkward."

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut again. He settled for a grunt that yes, perhaps it was getting awkward, but no, he wasn't going to utter a word. Anything that came out his mouth would be punctuated by lots of swearing right that second and he knew how much Aziraphale disliked that. And hissing, perhaps even the odd low growl that would feel much more at home coming from a hellhound. Either way, he didn't want to make himself feel any worse than he did right now, and causing a fight with the only one close enough to be admitted as a friend was the last thing he needed.

What he needed was to go home and wake up from this nightmare. Just...forget about this night. He knew though that it would be impossible to forget.

Aziraphale sighed next to him. "Did you mean it, what you said to him? You would really damn someone to Hell just for.."

"Just for nothing angel. Shut up! He just...he just ruined everything for me. My car will never be the same again, either will my memories or...or...or something. Just shut up."

Alright, so he could talk without the swearing. Aziraphale was looking at him, he could feel that damned angelic gaze prickling the back of his neck. Crowley shifted in his seat. Now he was beginning to feel uncomfortable himself. His anger was fading and he was beginning to feel like...

He pulled to a stop outside Aziraphale's bookstore and let his head fall to the steering wheel of the Bentley. A hand began to pat him on the back. "Well," Aziraphale said, "Personally, I think you can have him, dear."

Crowley brightened at that. "Really? 'Cause usually you get all righteous when I decide a human should be singled out. You know I am better at thinking of quantity and not quality."

Aziraphale smiled at him, guilt now fading away. "Well, you will owe me one. So no tempting when I find a suitable human to work on. Deal?"

A perfectly manicured hand was held out to him. Crowley glanced at it briefly before grasping it tightly and shaking it. "Sure. Thanks angel, I feel a little better now, but still...what he did was so wrong he would probably have deserved a sentence in Hell anyway."

Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him, got out of the car and went inside. Crowley went to his own flat, lost a bit more of his anger by yelling at his plants for a bit, then went to bed for the remainder of the night.

That night his dreams consisted of Hell, but they weren't nightmares. He smiled in his sleep as he gave over Paul Rodgers to the torturers and delighted for once in his being a demon.

No one, not one person, should ever try to take the place of Freddie Mercury.