"Please, I just-"

"You were given a flaming sword to guard the Eastern Gate, and to guard the Eastern Gate only. By giving it away, you directly disobeyed the Almighty's orders."

"But - but I was just trying to help! Isn't that what we were asked to do? To show love and kindness to all of God's creatures?"

"God cast them out of Eden for a reason. They are no longer worthy of those things."

"I-I'm sorry. I just-"

"You should be grateful the Almighty didn't make you Fall for this. We have chosen an alternative punishment, instead."

"I… yes. Of course. What's it to be?"

"…"

"W-what are you doing?"

"If you like the humans so much, then you can stay on Earth with them. Stop struggling, you don't want us to make a mess, do you?"

Wait, n-no! Please! Let go!"

"You can have them back once you have repented and earned Heaven's forgiveness. Now stand still, this will only take a moment…"


The murmurs of the crowd of people watching the strange proceedings fills the air, nearby onlookers speculating not-so-quietly on what Noah could possibly be doing. Two of every animal obediently make their way onto the large boat, with only the occasional animal needing to be pushed back into place before it runs off. A few people quietly scoff to one another that Noah has finally lost his mind, but if Noah hears them, he doesn't let on.

Aziraphale stands at the front of the crowd, near the fence separating them from the animals, overseeing as much as he can from his place as a bystander. He wrings his hands nervously, turning his head back and forth to watch the crowd and then the animals. Every now and then his eyes glance up at the sky expectantly before darting back down.

His instructions had been perfectly clear. Keep an eye on the construction of the Ark, make sure no one interferes, and prevent anyone aside from God's chosen ones from boarding. A nice, simple job. One that even he couldn't screw up.

"Consider it a step closer to getting your wings back," Gabriel had said with a smile, clapping Aziraphale on the back.

Aziraphale isn't an idiot. He knows why he's been given this task over any other. It's a test to see if he will disobey orders again, will go out of his way to save the humans God has damned. It's almost painful, watching so many humans stand around laughing at Noah, knowing he won't be able to save them when the storm comes, but this is a task he can't fail. He can't allow anyone else on the boat.

God's plans are ineffable, Aziraphale reminds himself firmly. Just because you can't see the reason, it doesn't mean there isn't one.

There is a reason for all this. There has to be. He just has to trust Her.

His back twinges painfully.

"What's all this about?"

The voice startles Aziraphale; he didn't expect anyone to actually talk to him. Every other time he's been around humans, he's mainly been left alone. He'd figured this time would be the same.

Apparently not.

He glances at the person who approached him, just to make sure they're actually talking to him. The stranger is a man with dark, almost black clothing, and long red hair that reaches his shoulders. He's not looking at Aziraphale, too busy looking around in what appears to be fascination, but Aziraphale had caught him turning his head away when he faced him. No one else is looking at him, or even looks like they recognise him.

"What's all what about?" Aziraphale says politely. It's rather obvious what "this" the man is referring to, but he can't think of anything else to say. He's probably not supposed to be talking to mortals, anyway.

"This. The whole 'building a big boat and filling it with a travelling zoo' thing." He emphasises his point with a large, vague gesture of his arms.

"Ah. Yes. Right. That." Aziraphale swallows, casts a quick glance around to see if there are any other angels nearby observing him. There aren't. "Well. Rumour has it God asked him to build it. Fill it with two of every animal."

"Oh? Who's saying that?"

"Noah. No one believes him, of course. Everyone's saying he's gone mad."

The man still doesn't look at him. He's constantly turning around, watching everything that's going on. "Huh. What other rumours are going around? Any about why God would ask someone to build a boat like this in the first place?"

Aziraphale picks at his fingernails, briefly glancing at the sky again. He's not supposed to tell anyone what's happening. Just in case they try to make plans. But rumours about why are already spreading anyway, and Noah himself has told many people the reason he was asked to build the Ark, so what harm can it do? "According to Noah, God isn't pleased with the human race. Planning on wiping it out with a big storm."

Most humans had brushed off the rumour with a laugh, saying there was no way God would want all of humanity dead. This human doesn't seem to find it funny. "Everyone?"

Aziraphale shifts uncomfortably. "Well. It is just a rumour. And God doesn't seem to want to wipe everyone out." He gestures to Noah, who's still guiding all the animals onto the boat. "Noah, over there, his family, his sons, their wives, they'll all be fine."

The man still won't face him directly, but Aziraphale can tell by the creases on his face that he's not comforted by the words. "But they're drowning everybody else?"

Aziraphale can't think of anything to say to that, so he doesn't.

"Not the kids. They can't kill kids," the man presses.

Aziraphale picks at his fingers and says nothing. The reminder of what he's been asked to allow to happen makes guilt sit heavily in his chest.

"Sounds like the kind of thing you'd expect a demon to do, not a god that's supposed to be all-loving," the man says.

Aziraphale isn't entirely sure if he's still talking to him, but he responds anyway. "It is only a rumour."

"Yeah," the man mutters. "A rumour."

Aziraphale bites his lip and turns his attention back to the boat. One of Noah's sons is struggling to wrangle a lion back into line, and his brothers rush to assist him, abandoning the sections they were asked to supervise.

"Oi, Shem!" the man beside him yells. "That unicorn's gonna make a run for it-!"

Too late. The unicorn breaks away from the line and gallops away, too fast for anyone to catch up with it. Aziraphale bites back a sigh and turns to talk to the man again.

Then he sees it. His eyes. His yellow, snake slit eyes.

Aziraphale's blood runs cold.

"Oh, it's too late. It's too late!" the man-shaped being yells to Noah's son, still squinting at the runway unicorn. "Well, you've still got one of 'em!"

Above them, thunder crashes, and the rain Aziraphale has been waiting for finally begins to fall. The storm is starting.

"Well, great talking to you," the being says. "Guess I'll see you later. Or not."

"Yes," Aziraphale says. He looks from the crowd to the animals to Noah and back again, refusing to make eye contact with the… the thing beside him. "Later."

The being leaves without another word, and Aziraphale lets out a long, slow breath, slumping in relief.

When he'd been permanently assigned to Earth, he had been warned that there was an agent of Hell still lurking about. A serpent, he'd been informed. The one that tempted Adam and Eve in the first place. He'd been told, over and over, to keep an eye out for this demon, to thwart any of his evil wiles, and, above all else, to not make contact with him.

And, like an idiot, Aziraphale had just gone and told the enemy everything.

"Heaven help me," Aziraphale whispers to himself.

Around him, the rain continues to fall.


Aziraphale doesn't spot the demon until he's already by his right shoulder, leaning over to make conversation.

"What do you think this is about? Think Pharaoh's finally gonna tell us what's been going on with his crazy dreams?"

Aziraphale keeps his eyes fixed firmly forward. He knows exactly what this is about. This is the moment Pharaoh will declare that Joseph has complete control over Egypt.

"I have no idea," he says instead, wringing his hands anxiously. Lying isn't very angelic, he's probably supposed to tell the demon it's none of his business, or just smite him on the spot, but he doesn't want to potentially start a fight around so many mortals. They're at the back of the crowd, so Aziraphale can run and draw the demon away if he needs to, but he doesn't want to risk it. If a fight breaks out, not only would people get hurt, but it would draw attention away from the event about to take place, and that's not what Aziraphale wants. And with no sword, he wouldn't be able to protect himself anyway, much less win.

"It has to be big, whatever it is," the demon says. "Can't remember the last time this many people showed up to hear what Pharaoh had to say."

Aziraphale spares the demon the quickest glance he can manage. It looks like he's been disguising himself as a noble, but for how long, Aziraphale doesn't know. He hasn't noticed any demonic activity in Egypt over the last few years, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. Temptations to foil Heaven's plans, perhaps? Encouraging Potiphar's wife to tempt and then frame Joseph like she had in order to get him thrown in prison, hoping it would prevent Heaven's plan from working? It did sound like the kind of potential interference a demon might come up with.

"Personally, my money's on the 'crazy dreams' thing," the demon continues, either not noticing or not caring that Aziraphale hadn't replied to him. "Been causing a lot of upset, you know. Rumours about what they might mean. Probably best to get it out before they spiral out of control."

Aziraphale hums noncommittally, glancing nervously at the demon again. Why is he talking to him? Surely an angel would be the last person a demon would want to talk to. Maybe he's hoping to trick some information out of Aziraphale again, like he did in Mesopotamia? Getting information about divine plans from an angel would certainly be beneficial to Hell, so it would explain why he hadn't simply tried to destroy Aziraphale, but it was a risky move. Any good angel would try to smite a demon on sight. Surely the risk of destruction outweighed whatever benefits Hell might get from receiving information from an angel?

Perhaps that was why he had refused to look at Aziraphale properly when they met. He was hoping Aziraphale wouldn't see his eyes and realise he's a demon.

Distantly, Aziraphale realises that Pharaoh has finally arrived to speak to the crowd. He only half listens as Pharaoh finally announces he's giving Joseph control over Egypt, too busy keeping a watchful eye on the demon next to him in case he tries to do… something. He's not entirely sure what that something might be, but he's hoping he'll know if he sees it.

Whatever the something is, the demon doesn't seem too interested in doing it. He drops their conversation to listen to Pharaoh speak, making little noises of interest or surprise. His eyes are completely fixed on Pharaoh, and he doesn't notice when Aziraphale turns his head slightly to get a better look at him. His face is surprisingly… expressive. Aziraphale would have thought a demon would be more guarded around an angel.

"Clever lad, isn't he?" the demon says once Pharaoh finishes his speech. "Working out those dreams like that. Seven years of famine, who'd have thought it?"

"Yes. Very clever indeed," Aziraphale says, still not taking his eyes off the demon.

"Pretty clever idea, too, storing excess food to deal with the famine," the demon continues, turning back to Aziraphale. "I think-"

Aziraphale realises too late that he's been staring, and the demon catches his eye before he can turn away. This is the first time he's had a chance to have a good look at those serpentine eyes, and he can't help but stare just a little. They aren't as ugly as he thought they'd be. If it weren't for the unusual colour and the slit pupils, they could almost be human eyes staring back at him, wide in shock and surprise and… fear…

Oh, Aziraphale realises. He knows I know, now.

"Shit," the demon mumbles, raising a hand to cover his eyes, even though it's obvious it's far too late. "Fuck, just… pretend you didn't see that… oh fuck, okay, hold on-"

The demon reaches out to him, and Aziraphale's stomach drops. He stumbles back, away from the hand, heart beginning to pound. Twice now this demon has spotted Aziraphale before Aziraphale spotted him, and he's likely only survived until now because the demon wanted to use him for information. He's weaponless and defenseless, and if the demon decides to kill him - which is looking more likely by the second, judging by the increasingly panicked look on his face - he has no way to fight back.

So Aziraphale does the only thing he can do in this situation.

He runs.

He can hear the demon curse and give chase behind him, but he doesn't dare turn around. He picks up his pace, shoving past a young woman and accidentally knocking her over, and he feels bad, he really does, but he's too terrified to stop and help her, so he keeps running instead. He pushes his way through the crowd, turns in different directions at random, does everything he can think of to throw off his pursuer.

A sharp turn around the corner reveals the marketplace isn't far, and relief floods through Aziraphale's body. The marketplace is loud and crowded and confusing, even more so than the crowd of people who had come to listen to Pharaoh speak; the perfect place to hide. As soon as he reaches the crowd, he'll be able to disappear amongst the people, and slip away through a small street off to the side.

Aziraphale runs faster, feet pounding harshly against the ground. The edge of the crowd in the marketplace grows closer and closer. Almost there… almost there… almost-

A hand grabs him and pulls him into a small street.

Aziraphale starts to scream, but the other hand is quickly clamped firmly over his mouth to muffle his voice. He struggles wildly in the strong hold, twisting his body and trying to strike the demon - for who else would be strong enough to hold him still? - with his elbows or hands or anything else that can reach.

"Shush! Stop struggling!" the demon hisses. He tightens his hold on Aziraphale, but he's clearly struggling to keep him still.

Aziraphale sobs in panic behind the demon's hand, still thrashing to get free. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, sweat streaming down his face as his feet kick helplessly.

"I said stop struggling! You're going to draw attention!"

Aziraphale redoubles his efforts, flailing wildly, hoping the demon will lose his grip. Tears prick his eyes, slowly sliding down his face.

"Oh, for the love of-" the demon twists awkwardly, pushing and shoving back against Aziraphale's body, until finally Aziraphale is pinned against a wall, both of his hands trapped in the demon's one, his mouth still covered. "There. Now calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

Aziraphale doesn't believe him. He keeps struggling, but the demon has the upper hand now, and it's clearly taking him less effort to keep Aziraphale pinned to the wall than it is for Aziraphale to worm his way out of his grip. Another frightened sob escapes him, and he squeezes his eyes shut so he won't have to watch whatever the demon has planned for him.

"Okay," the demon breathes, panting slightly. "Okay. Here we go. Shh, shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, just stand still…"

Stand still, this will only take a moment…

Aziraphale screams behind the hand, kicking even harder than before. He manages to catch the demon in the leg, but despite the grunt of pain he doesn't let go, pressing Aziraphale against the wall even harder.

Oh god, he's going to die here.

"Shh, shush, shush, you're okay, I don't want to hurt you, I just need to-"

Aziraphale's sobbing now, wet tears staining his face, great heaving gasps leaving him breathless and dizzy. His back burns like it hasn't in millennia, like he's back at Eden, wings forcefully spread out and exposed, the glint of a Heavenly blade getting closer and closer…

He screams again, only for a dirty piece of fabric to appear out of nowhere and be shoved roughly in his mouth.

"There," the demon sighs in relief, finally removing his hand from Aziraphale's mouth. "That's better. Now just hold still, I'll let you go in a second, just let me…"

Aziraphale shakes his head violently, still sobbing, as the demon reaches for him again. He tries to jerk away, but only succeeds in banging his head against the wall, and he wheezes in pain. No matter how hard he tries, he can't spit out the fabric gagging him.

"You're gonna be fine," the demon says, resting a cool hand on Aziraphale's forehead. "I just need to make sure you can't go blabbing to anyone about what I am…"

Aziraphale's breath hitches, tears falling freely. He cries quietly behind the balled up piece of fabric, trembling violently as he waits for the demon to kill him, wishing he could go home, wishing he had his wings, wishing he could go flying just one last time.

But nothing happens.

"What the fuck?" the demon mutters. He presses his hand more insistently against Aziraphale's forehead, and finally Aziraphale can feel it. A small thread of demonic power searching for something, trying to influence his mind. He pushes it away.

The demon's scowling now, pushing the thread harder, but Aziraphale keeps pushing back. If he must die, he at least wants his mind to be his own.

The demon makes a third attempt, but this time when Aziraphale pushes back, he freezes. His eyes flick to Aziraphale's, seemingly searching for something. Whatever he finds makes him push himself away from Aziraphale, backing away like he's the one in danger.

Aziraphale's knees give out beneath him, and he slides to the ground, shaking. He should run, but his limbs feel heavy and won't cooperate, too weak to hold him up.

The demon eyes him warily, maintaining a safe distance. "What are you?"

Aziraphale whimpers pathetically. The demon snaps his fingers, and the fabric in his mouth disappears.

"What are you?" the demon repeats. "Why can't I wipe your memories?"

What?

"W-wipe my memories?" Aziraphale chokes out. "What do you mean, wipe my memories?"

"I mean I don't want you blabbing to the next person you meet that one of the nobles has snake eyes!" the demon hisses. "Do you know how hard it is to get people to not look? So I'll ask you again, what are you?"

Aziraphale can't find the words to reply. One would think it's fairly obvious what he is. Angel minds are much harder to influence than human minds, after all.

The demon doesn't seem to agree. He edges forward, inhaling deeply, then lets a small, forked tongue slip past his lips to flicker in the air.

"You don't smell like an angel," he says at last. "Well, you do a little, now that I'm looking for it, but so do other humans that come into contact with angels. I didn't think you were - I can smell an angel a mile away, you know, there's no way one would be able to get that close to me without me knowing - but when I tried to wipe your memories just now, I wasn't too sure…" He frowns, tilting his head to the side curiously. "Now that I think about it, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Aziraphale swallows. "I don't believe we have."

"Are you sure? Because I swear I recognise you from somewhere."

"I'm quite sure."

The demon looks thoughtful for a long moment, rocking back and forth on his heels, and although every instinct is screaming at Aziraphale to run, he can't bring himself to get up.

"Aha!" The demon snaps his fingers. "Mesopotamia! You were the guy I talked to about that boat!"

"I - I assure you I don't know what you mean. I've never met you before in my life-"

"Are you cursed?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Are you cursed?" the demon repeats. "Not by one of my lot, of course, I'm the only demon up here, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember cursing a human… was it Heaven? It was Heaven, wasn't it?" He winced in… sympathy? "You poor bastard. What did you do to piss off Heaven so bad they cursed you with immortality?"

Aziraphale's mouth opens and closes like a fish. No matter how hard he tries, he can't think of anything to say. This is supposed to be his end, his untimely death at the hands of a demon. He isn't supposed to sit here and listen to him ramble about curses and immortality.

"Don't wanna talk about it, huh? Hey, that's fine, I get it." The demon seems calmer now, approaching him with a cool confidence Aziraphale has never seen anyone possess. "Sorry about scaring the shit out of you, I just thought… you know, you might run screaming to tell everyone about my eyes. You get why I didn't want that to happen, right?"

Speechless, Aziraphale can only nod.

"Right. Speaking of, how come I can't wipe your memories? I've never had trouble with a human's mind, after all."

"I'm an agent of Heaven." That… wasn't quite what he meant to say. He was supposed to say I'm an angel of the Lord, and thus it is my duty to thwart your evil ways before they can interfere with divine plans, so if you wouldn't mind standing still so I can smite you, that would be lovely.

"Ah. I heard Heaven had someone working for them on Earth, but I thought it was an angel. Conned you into working for them, did they? Cursed you for pissing them off then promised salvation if you do as they say?"

Despite the circumstances, Aziraphale can't help but feel indignant. "They do give humans salvation! That's not a con!"

The demon rolls his eyes. "Sure, if you say so. That explains the angel smell, at least. And why I couldn't touch your memories. Pointless having an agent on Earth if a demon can just take control of their mind."

He stops just in front of Aziraphale and holds out his hand to help him up. For some reason, Aziraphale takes it.

"What's your name?" the demon asks as he hauls him to his feet.

"... Aziraphale."

"Aziraphale, huh? Sounds like an angel's name. Did Heaven make you change it? Sounds like the kind of thing they'd do." He gives Aziraphale's hand a firm shake before letting go and taking a step back. "I'm Crawly."

"Crawly." The name feels odd on his tongue. All these years of not having a name for the mysterious agent of Hell working on Earth, and now the demon just… gives it to him, just like that. "It's… nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Crawly tilts his head again. His stare is unnerving. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got stuff to do. I'll see you around, Aziraphale."

He brushes past Aziraphale and heads for the centre of the town, then pauses and glances back. "Hey, would you mind keeping the whole… snake eyes thing to yourself? One immortal being fucked over by Heaven to another?"

For some inexplicable reason, Aziraphale nods.

"Great. See you later!"

And with that he was gone, leaving Aziraphale standing in the street staring at nothing like the past ten minutes never happened.

Swallowing thickly, Aziraphale quickly dries his tears with his sleeve before taking a deep breath and stepping out of the small street.

If Crawly doesn't realise Aziraphale is an angel, then Aziraphale certainly isn't going to be the one to correct him.


Listening to Jesus cry out and beg God to forgive the ones causing his pain is one of the most difficult things Aziraphale has had to do since the Ark, but he does it anyway. Gabriel had been very clear in his instructions that Aziraphale was not to intervene under any circumstances, or there would be dire consequences. He hadn't elaborated on what those consequences would be, and Aziraphale hadn't asked.

"It's for the greater good," Gabriel had explained with a bit too much eagerness to be genuine. "God's orders. Besides, weren't you the one who wanted to have mercy on those humans in the first place? You should be thanking Her for this."

Aziraphale hadn't replied.

So here he is, watching God's son be nailed to a cross, a crowd of people surrounding him, and not one person daring to intervene.

"One would think God would at least want to keep him safe, above anyone else."

Aziraphale glances at Crawly, no longer phased by her suddenly appearing at his side out of seemingly nowhere. Ever since Egypt, they've been bumping into each other more and more frequently.

"Surprised you're here," Crawly continues. "Would've thought they'd at least send an angel to keep an eye on things." She frowns. "Guess they can't even be bothered to do that, though. Or to come smirk at the poor bugger themselves. Suppose that's what you're here for."

"I'm not here to smirk."

"Well, Heaven put him on there, and you're working for them."

Aziraphale feels a spark of irritation. "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawly."

Crawly pauses and gives him a long, considering look. "No," she says. "I suppose you're not."

The hammer bangs against another nail. Jesus cries out again.

"I've changed it, by the way," Crawly says, as casually as one can manage in such a situation.

"Changed what?"

"My name." She pulls a face. "'Crawly' just wasn't really doing it for me. Bit too… squirming-at-your-feet-ish."

"But aren't you a snake?" He tries to think of any other demons he's heard about recently that could be her. "So what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"

"Crowley."

Crowley. It's… quite a nice name, actually. Suits her much better than Crawly.

Ahead of them, the hammer keeps coming down.

"Did you, uh… ever meet him?" Aziraphale asks, if only to try and distract himself from Jesus' pained gasps and moans.

"Yes. Seemed a very bright young man," Craw-Crowley says. "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

That… is news. Aziraphale wasn't expecting her to say yes. He'd figured a demon wouldn't want anything to do with someone as holy as God's son. "Why?"

She shrugs. "He's a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited."

The hammer comes down again. This time, Jesus almost screams.

"That's gotta hurt," Crowley mutters, wincing in sympathy. "What was it he said that got everyone so upset?"

Aziraphale swallows. His back aches. "Be kind to each other."

"Oh, yeah," Crowley says, voice grave. "That'll do it."

Neither of them speak again as the cross is raised, listening in silence as Jesus howls and wails in agony. They watch as he sobs and whimpers and pleads quietly for forgiveness on behalf of others. Aziraphale can hear a woman crying - his mother, most likely - as Jesus' sobs and whimpers and pleas slowly quieten, until they're replaced with ragged, shallow breaths. After what feels like an eternity, those fall silent, too.

Aziraphale looks away as Jesus' mother begins wailing loudly, crying out against the injustice of her son's death. A long, agonising, torturous death he was forced to suffer because he had dared to be kind, even to those society decided didn't deserve kindness.

Especially those society decided didn't deserve kindness.

Aziraphale's back aches.

"I should get going," Crowley says at last. "Don't want to be here if any angels come to pick him up. See you around, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale nods, doesn't turn to watch her leave. He stays exactly where he is until the family is finally ready to lay Jesus to rest.


"You have sought the Black Knight, foolish one. But you have found your death."

The words, Aziraphale is sure, are supposed to be much more alarming. But it's hard to be alarmed when he recognises the voice under the helmet.

"Is that you under there, Crawly?"

"Crowley," the voice corrects. Armoured hands lift the visor on the helmet, revealing two bright, familiar snake eyes.

Of course. Of course Crowley is the Black Knight. Aziraphale isn't even sure why he's surprised.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he asks, a bit sharper than he intends, trying to keep his voice down so the humans can't hear him as clearly.

"It's alright, lads. I know him. He's alright," Crowley says dismissively to the men behind him, not even bothering to look at them. "I'm here spreading foment."

"What is that, some kind of porridge?"

"No. I'm, y'know, fomenting dissent and discord. King Arthur's been spreading too much peace and tranquility, so I'm here-" Crowley waves his arm vaguely- "you know, fomenting."

Aziraphale bites back a sigh. Typical. "Well, I'm meant to be… fomenting peace."

"Let me guess, Heaven's orders?"

Aziraphale glares at him.

"Just saying. I still don't know why you take orders from the people who cursed you in the first place. All they're doing is making you do shitty work in damp places. If you ask me, you'd be better off telling them where to shove it."

"It is rather damp, I'll give you," Aziraphale concedes. "But I can't tell them to… shove it, as you so eloquently put. It doesn't work like that."

"Sure it does," Crowley scoffs. "I did it."

"Yes, and look where you are now."

"Not under Heaven's thumb, that's for sure."

"No, but you're still in the exact same place as I am, carrying out orders from Hell."

"Not that it seems to be doing much, considering you're here," Crowley says. "All we're doing is cancelling each other out. We could've just stayed home."

"No we couldn't," Aziraphale says. "What would we tell Head Office?"

Crowley shrugs. "Same thing we're gonna tell them in the report anyway."

Aziraphale's chest tightens at the idea. "But… but that would be lying."

"Ehhh, possibly, but the end result would be the same," Crowley says dismissively, like lying to Head Office isn't one of the worst things either of them could possibly do.

"But my dear fellow, they-" Aziraphale searches desperately for a way to explain exactly why it's such a terrible idea, since Crowley doesn't seem to get it- "well, they'd check."

Crowley gives him an unimpressed look.

"Michael's a… bit of a stickler," Aziraphale tries to explain. "You don't want to get Gabriel upset with you." Underestimation of the century.

Crowley scoffs. "When was the last time anyone in Heaven actually bothered to check up on you in person? At least a millennium, am I right?"

Crowley has a point, it has been a long time since Heaven has checked up on him. All of his orders come from notes, now, and he hasn't seen another angel since Jesus' death. But the mere thought of lying to his superiors makes his back sting and his chest twist anxiously.

He can't disobey Heaven again. He needs their forgiveness.

"Look, I know what they're like up there. So long as they get the paperwork, Heaven won't care what you're doing," Crowley says. "As long as you're seen to be doing something every now and again, they'll leave you alone."

"No. Absolutely not." His chest feels tight at the words alone. "You may be willing to risk punishment so you don't have to work as hard, but I'm not, and I'm shocked that, after all this time, you'd imply I would. We're not having this conversation, not another word!"

He storms off back to his horse, and Crowley doesn't try to stop him.

His chest is still tight when he gets home.


By far the most time consuming part of carrying out orders from Heaven is actually travelling to where he needs to go. Most angels would simply fly to their next task, but that's not exactly an option for Aziraphale, so he has to take the human way. Which is usually a slow, extremely unpleasant journey.

So of course Heaven has asked him to perform a miracle on the other side of the country.

Sighing, Aziraphale checks that he has all the necessary supplies for the journey. He's already checked about three times, and admittedly he may only be doing it to put off the trip for just a few more minutes, but he'd hate to get halfway there only to realise he'd forgotten something.

Or that's the excuse he's using, anyway.

"What's all this stuff for? Going on holiday, or something?"

"Oh, I wish," Aziraphale sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. Normally seeing Crowley again would be delightful, but his journey ahead will be so stressful he can practically feel the headache it will cause him already. "I need to go to the other side of the country to perform a miracle, but it's such a long way, and I-"

"You can perform miracles?"

Oh dear. He'd forgotten Crowley doesn't know he's an angel.

"Well, yes," Aziraphale says, scrambling desperately for an excuse. "You see, Heaven has… granted me a limited amount of… magic. Just enough to perform any blessings or miracles they require."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Crowley says. He circles Aziraphale, a habit he's picked up for reasons Aziraphale can't quite figure out. "I guess it makes sense, Upstairs have used humans to perform miracles before. I thought they just… sent you to keep an eye on things they don't want my side screwing up. Or got you to preach on their behalf."

"Yes, well, they decided I would be more useful if I could perform miracles, as well," Aziraphale says. "It really is only enough to carry out the tasks they give me, though."

"Uh huh. What's the miracle?"

Aziraphale hesitates for a moment. He really shouldn't be telling a demon about Heaven's plans, but… well, Crowley has never directly interfered with his work unless Hell has ordered him to. What harm could it do? "This awful plague is taking a toll on a lot of people, and they've been getting frightfully angry at the Church. So Heaven has asked me to pop over and heal a few of the sick, to try and… encourage them to have faith again."

Crowley hums, rocking on his heels. "Where're they sending you?"

"Hampshire," Aziraphale says, eyeing Crowley suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just curious." Crowley shrugs. "Coincidentally, I'm meant to be heading south, too. I was thinking we could travel together."

"Travel together?"

"Sure. Why not? Got to be better than travelling alone."

Aziraphale thinks about it. He hasn't been looking forward to travelling alone, and demon or not, Crowley is always such pleasant company. And if they're both heading south anyway

A note appears before Aziraphale can take Crowley up on his offer, and he fumbles to catch it before the wind blows it away. Frowning, he unfolds the note and starts to read, his heart sinking with every word.

Crowley notices. "What's wrong?"

Aziraphale swallows. "It's… orders from Heaven. They want me to head north for a blessing of the utmost importance."

"I thought they wanted you to head south?"

"They do. They want me to do both."

"Well that sucks. Could've had the decency to tell you earlier." Crowley shrugs. "Nothing you can do about it now, I guess. Come on, let's go, shouldn't take you too long to reach Hampshire if we set off now."

Aziraphale's hands clench around the note. "I need to perform this blessing within three days."

Crowley pauses, raises an eyebrow at the note. "And they're only telling you now?"

Aziraphale swallows thickly and nods.

"Alright, fine, we'll head north first, you can do this extremely important blessing, then we'll set off for Hampshire."

"No," Aziraphale says, voice tight. "I… those miracles in Hampshire need to be done by the end of the week."

"... What?"

"They want me to do both," Aziraphale chokes out. "They want me to do both, and I can't…"

Aziraphale covers his face with his hands, trembling violently. Heaven had been very adamant when they insisted that the miracles in Hampshire needed to be done within the week, and the note says they still expected to get that done. They had also made it perfectly clear that it is in his best interests to not fail under any circumstances if he wants their forgiveness, and while that wasn't explicitly mentioned in this note, the warning was perfectly clear.

Any other angel wouldn't have a problem. They could just fly to Hampshire and back. But Aziraphale can't, they know he can't. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they're deliberately giving him a test they know he can't pass.

There's no way he can perform both the blessing and the miracle in time..

"Oh, fuck, are you okay - gimme that note, what the fuck did they say-" Crowley snatches the note from Aziraphale's hand, frowning down at it as he skims through it. "'Please be sure to meet the deadline for both of these tasks, as you are fully aware of the consequences that shall take place if you fail.' What the fuck does that even mean?"

Aziraphale sniffs and tries to wipe his watering eyes. He doesn't know how to respond to that, so he stays quiet.

"This is ridiculous," Crowley seethes. He crumbles the note into a ball, then sets it on fire. "How the fuck do they expect you to do two things at once? It's not like you have wings, you can't fly there, so what the fuck do they expect you to do? Don't they know anything about how mortals have to get around up here? Typical fucking angels, inconsiderate bastards, the lot of them…"

Aziraphale bites his lip and stares at the ground, picking at his nails as Crowley continues to rant. His eyes burn with tears as he tries desperately to think of what to do, but his mind is drawing a blank. He can only do one or the other. There's no way he can perform both the blessing and the miracle in time, so he needs to figure out which is more important. The extremely important blessing that popped up at the last minute? Or the miracle he already agreed to do? Which makes him look more reliable? Which makes him look worthy?

Every mission he's set is a test. If he gets this wrong, he may never get his wings back.

A shaky sob slips past the tightness in his throat.

"Oh, fuck, don't cry, Aziraphale. Come on, it's just a stupid miracle, they'll get over it-"

"It's not," Aziraphale gasps through his tears. "It's not, they won't, you don't understand-"

"Hey, hey, hey-"

"I can't do it, I need to do it, but I can't, what am I supposed to do-"

"Breathe, Aziraphale," Crowley says. He sounds just the slightest bit desperate. "Just breathe."

He doesn't need to breathe, but Crowley doesn't know that, so he obeys, taking deep, shaky breaths through his mouth. Crowley murmurs soothing encouragement every now and then, but otherwise stays silent as he waits for Aziraphale to calm down.

"What am I supposed to do?" Aziraphale finally whispers.

Crowley doesn't speak for a moment, and Aziraphale doesn't think he's going to. But then, voice ever so slightly hesitant, he says, "I think I might have an idea."

"You… you do?"

"Yeah. I'm headed south for this temptation anyway, right? And Hampshire isn't really that far from where I need to go. I could… I could do the miracle for you."

Aziraphale wasn't expecting that. "Do it… for me? Are demons even allowed to do that?"

Crowley shrugs. "Probably not."

"But… but won't Hell find out?"

"Hell won't notice shit. It's not like they track the miracles we perform."

"They don't?"

"Course not. Why would they? So long as I do the stuff they ask me to, they don't care what I do up here."

"Oh," Aziraphale says quietly. "It's not like that in Heaven."

"Yeah, thought that might be the case. Bastards Up There always were controlling pricks." Crowley scowls at the mention of the other angels in Heaven, but then he focuses back on Aziraphale and he softens. "Heaven won't find out, either. If you let me help."

Aziraphale shakes his head. "They will. I appreciate the offer, but I can't let you do that. Heaven… wouldn't be pleased if they found out I gave a demon any information about my missions."

"But they won't find out," Crowley says. "They aren't going to care how it gets done, so long as they can see it is done. They won't be watching."

Aziraphale looks down at his hands, which are still picking at his nails. Crowley is wrong, they will be watching, because this is an impossible test, and Gabriel will be watching to see if he screws up.

"I'll be careful," Crowley says, and this time there's a hint of pleading in his voice. "They won't be watching you specifically, they'll be watching the results. I promise, no one will find out it was me. If they question why there was a demonic presence in Hampshire, you can just say I tried to ruin your plans and failed."

Aziraphale bites his lip. It's a tempting offer, and his only option if he wants to get both done, because there's no way he can do both tasks on his own, but temptation is Crowley's job. As an angel, Aziraphale is supposed to resist temptation at all costs.

"Come on, Aziraphale," Crowley says softly. "You go do your blessing, and let me take care of your miracle."

Aziraphale glances up. "You'd really do that for me?"

"Of course I would. You're my friend." Crowley holds out his hand. "Let me help."

It's a terrible idea, Aziraphale tells himself, anxiety twisting in his gut. It's too dangerous. Heaven and Hell will be furious if they find out.

But what other choice does he have?

Aziraphale reaches out and hesitantly shakes Crowley's hand.

He expects to feel… something, anything, that might feel like he's being bound to Crowley, that makes him feel heavy and guilty for making a deal with a demon. But there's nothing. No invisible chain shackled around his wrist, no bite of demonic power nipping at his being, no sudden drops in temperature chilling him to the bone. The only thing he can feel is Crowley's skin against his, cool and smoother than he'd expected.

Crowley lets go of his hand, grins at him, and Aziraphale still can't feel anything damning. "Glad you agree. I'd better get going, then, if I want to meet that deadline of yours. I'll see you around, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale nods wordlessly, his hand falling to his side as he watches Crowley walk away. He stares after him long after he's gone, the memory of Crowley's hand in his still fresh in his mind.

This is dangerous. If Heaven finds out what he's just done, the consequences would be much more severe than never getting his wings back. He could be put to death. He could be sentenced to extinction. He could Fall.

And yet he can't bring himself to regret it. Not when Crowley unknowingly gave him a chance to save his wings.

Feeling lighter than he has in a long time, Aziraphale gathers his things and heads north.