Authors Note:
This chapter contains spoilers for the 1999 film, Dogma.
After their romantic dinner they went back to Crowley's flat, watched a film and then snuggled in bed together. There was plenty more kissing but they didn't go any further than that. Crowley wouldn't dare. He was worried about going too fast for Aziraphale, and besides, he didn't want to rush into anything anyway. He'd never been with anyone before and as much as he wanted to share himself with Aziraphale, he still felt nervous.
For over a week they were inseparable, and then, early one morning, Aziraphale left Crowley's flat in order to open the bookshop for a customer with an appointment. Crowley offered to drive him but Aziraphale said he was happy to take a taxi and Crowley might as well go back to sleep.
They arranged to meet in the park at 1pm for a picnic. Crowley set an alarm to make sure he wouldn't miss it. He was so excited that when he finally drifted off to sleep he dreamt of a sunlit park and an angel waiting for him there.
Aziraphale's customer had been and gone. He was just considering closing up shop before anyone else wandered in when the bell above the door rang and there came the sound of footsteps.
Hurrying to the front of the shop, Aziraphale found a middle aged man wandering aimlessly.
"Can I help you?" Aziraphale asked coolly. "We're closing soon."
"I'm looking for a birthday present for a friend. He collects vintage detective books so I was thinking a Sherlock Holmes book would do the trick. The only vintage edition he has is a Study in Scarlet, so anything else will do."
Aziraphale's eyes lit up. This was his favourite kind of customer - someone who would let him choose the book they purchased. He owned multiple copies of The Hound of the Baskerville's so he could certainly part with one of those.
"Follow me," Aziraphale said. He led the man to a bookcase at the back of the shop.
Aziraphale looked through the books until he found two identical copies of The Hound of the Baskerville's. He drew one free, hoping the man wouldn't notice the signed first edition that he'd left on the shelf and get any funny ideas.
"The cover is beautifully ornate," said Aziraphale." Just look at the- Ouch!"
Aziraphale felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck, little more than a pin prick, but it almost made him drop the book. He placed a hand over the nape of his neck as he spun around to face the man.
The man's expression was blank, unreadable, but Aziraphale saw him slip a syringe into his coat pocket.
"What did you-?!" A sudden faintness washed over him, and he reached for the bookcase as the room began to spin. The book fell from his grip, his vision blurred and his legs gave way beneath him.
The man caught him as he lost consciousness and carefully lowered him to the ground.
Aziraphale hadn't seen the man flip the sign to Closed when he came in, nor had he noticed that several men had been watching the bookshop for over a week, tracking his and Crowley's movements – sometimes from a nearby café and sometimes from a car.
Crowley felt on top of the world as he strolled through the park, swinging his picnic basket and grinning to himself.
Colours seemed brighter today. The sun was shining, and blossom fluttered down from the trees like confetti. It was all wonderfully romantic and Crowley couldn't wait to see Aziraphale.
The flowerbeds were a rainbow of colour and so he stopped to get a better look, but as he admired the flowers he sensed that something was wrong and it took him only a few seconds to realise what it was.
~A Week Earlier~
Michael was stood with her arms crossed, her patience wearing thin. A quick glance at her phone told her that Hastur was ten minutes late already.
She leant against the ruined and abandoned church behind her, taking comfort from the once holy place as she stared out moodily at the dark and overgrown graveyard surrounding her. She was starting to regret agreeing to this meeting and was seriously considering teleporting back up to Heaven when she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye.
Soil bulged up from the ground and then Hastur's head appeared like some sort of hideous mole. Michael watched, disgusted yet transfixed as Hastur pulled himself out of the earth. The toad on the top of his head rearranged itself, sending clumps of earth tumbling to the ground.
"You're late," Michael snapped.
Hastur ignored the accusation and strode towards her. He stopped and then gestured for her to come closer but she remained against the church wall.
"No, you come over here," she said irritably.
"That church is still a bit too holy for my liking. You know how it is with demons and holy ground."
Michael rolled her eyes and then pushing away from the wall, walking towards Hastur until they were only a few feet apart. "What do you want?"
"Revenge on the traitors."
"Ha! Don't we all!"
"I have a plan."
Michael regarded him wearily. From what she'd heard, most of Hastur's plans involved torturing people or setting things on fire - not that there wasn't a certain appeal to the idea of the traitors being tortured and set alight for the rest of time.
Michael crossed her arms. "Yeah? Come on then, let's hear it."
"My plan is almost perfect. I can deal with snake boy, no problem, but I need inside information on Aziraphale. That's where you come in. You know his habits, right?"
"It's not like I was best buddies with Aziraphale or anything. I barely knew him. He spent most his time on Earth, reading and eating and God knows what else."
"Does he sleep?"
"How on Earth should I know? I'm not his keeper. And why have you come to me with this anyway? If you need angelic assistance then have Beelzebub talk to Gabriel officially. You'll get more answers that way."
Hastur made a frustrated noise and shook his head. A spec of dirt flew from his hair and landed on Michael's spotless blouse. She grimaced and flicked it away.
"No," Hastur growled. "That won't work. Beelzebub doesn't get it. She called my plan 'reckless.' The coward. I'm not allowed to meddle with the traitors."
If Beelzebub didn't like his plan then it probably wouldn't work anyway. "You've not even told me what your plan is. It probably is reckless. You do understand how dangerous the traitors are, right? They could destroy all of us if they wanted to. It's best not to give them a reason."
Hastur let out a humourless laugh. "They have plenty of reason! We tried to execute them, for fuck's sake! They could storm Heaven and Hell and destroy all of us any time they wanted. We need to incapacitate them before they do that, and I know exactly how to do it!"
Michael gave him a doubtful look. "Out with it then."
"Have you seen Dogma?"
Michael frowned.
"It's a film. It gave me the idea."
"The only film I've seen is The Sound of Music and that's only because Gabriel watches it on repeat."
"So there's these two fallen angels, right? And they've got a scheme to sneak back into Heaven. But the Metatron is trying to stop them-"
"It sounds dreadful."
"-And God can't get involved because she's been incapacitated."
Michael gasped. "You want to incapacitate the Almighty?!"
"No, you idiot! I'm explaining the plot of this film. God couldn't get involved because she was trapped in a corporation that had been put into a coma. My plan is – Let's put Aziraphale and Crowley into comas!"
"That's absurd. I mean... You'd have to keep them in comas for the rest of time."
"Yep. They'd be as good as dead. Just trapped in their own heads for the rest of eternity."
Michael liked the sound of that.
"All I need is the right chemicals," Hastur went on. "Corporations are weak. We can get Crowley while he's asleep but I'm not sure if Aziraphale actually sleeps or not. I've hired a team of humans to spy on them and they say there's movement in the bookshop overnight. The lights are often on overnight too. So if he does sleep it's rarely. Or maybe he just takes short naps? If he doesn't sleep then that makes it more difficult, but we could just get him with a syringe when his guard is down."
"We?" Michael said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm not going anywhere near either of the traitors! And I'm definitely not injecting them with anything. They're dangerous! Aziraphale breathed Hellfire at Gabriel during the execution! And when we went to the bookshop a few days ago he made a ball of hellfire right in front of us!"
"You went to see him in the bookshop?"
"Gabriel wanted to fling holy water at him, just in case. Obviously it didn't work, and it made Aziraphale furious so Heaven has forbidden anyone from ever meddling with the traitors again."
"I'm not asking you to go near Aziraphale anyway, that's what the humans are for. They'll inject the pair of them and then I can take over once they're unconscious. They'll be harmless. You don't have to get involved directly. All I need from you is information."
Michael pulled a face, unconvinced. "This sounds incredibly risky, even with humans doing the dirty work. This could go wrong in a thousand different ways. And if it gets back to Heaven – or the traitors – that I was involved…"
"They destroyed Ligur," Hastur spat, fury in his eyes. "We need revenge!"
Michael glared at him. She and Ligur hadn't been friends. Yes, they'd been somewhat friendly before the Fall but afterwards it'd been purely business. It was beneficial for Heaven to have back channels. True, sometimes they called each other purely to gossip and bitch about their colleagues, and yes, they sent each other hilarious memes, but they weren't friends. Only someone like Aziraphale could be friends with a demon.
"C'mon. At least give me any information you have on Aziraphale that might be useful," Hastur said. "If he doesn't sleep, I'm not sure what the best way to go about this is."
Michael crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Hmm. From what I've heard, he spends the majority of his time reading his books alone in his bookshop – he doesn't open the shop to the public very often. Have your human spies been inside?"
"Not yet."
"Maybe one of your humans could wait until the bookshop is open and then inject Aziraphale while they're alone with him? Distract him with his fondness for books or something. If your humans do all the risky stuff then this could actually work. I want in on this. I want to watch the traitors suffer for their crimes."
Hastur grinned.
"But we have to do this properly. There's no room for mistakes, no second chances." Michael held her head up high. "We have a duty to make the traitors pay. If we don't then no one will."
"Exactly. Our superiors are letting the traitors get away scot free. What story are your lot sticking to?"
"The official statement is that Aziraphale has been forced into exile on Earth, banished from Heaven for all eternity. The higher ups don't want the lower angels knowing that Aziraphale is indestructible. We've been forbidden from talking to him. He's a social pariah." Michael let out a laugh. "Everyone knows it's nonsense, of course, and there are plenty of rumours flying around."
Michael knew there were rumours because she'd been the one who'd spread most of them.
Hastur snorted. "Hell's sticking to that 'banishment' story too. Which is ridiculous because half of Hell saw Crowley survive the holy water. We're forbidden from talking about it, which naturally means it's all anyone's talking about."
"It looks like both of our sides have given up on revenge then. We have to do this."
Michael was starting to feel excited as she pictured the traitors, asleep and helpless, plagued by nightmares for all eternity.
They had a lot to discuss but first Michael had to ask something that had been niggling at her. "This Dogma film… You said the Metatron's in it?"
"Yeah."
"…Am I in it?"
"Nah."
Michael tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Good. I would hate to be in such a blasphemous film."
Crowley took a closer look at the nearest flowerbed, sensing that something was off.
The flowerbed contained daffodils, snowdrops, poppies, sunflowers, and tulips - flowers which absolutely should not all be blooming at the same time. The nearest tree was covered in pink blossom while the tree beside it was shedding orange leaves. The humans around him were going about their days as though this were all perfectly normal.
Ah. He was dreaming. Crowley let out an amused laugh.
Crowley had taught himself how to lucid dream a long time ago, and while doing so he'd also gotten pretty good at spotting the clues that he was in a dream.
He'd watched a television program many years ago which had explained different ways to check if you were in a dream, one of which being to look at a clock and try to make the hands move backwards. Crowley had been amused by this because, as a supernatural entity, he could easily make the hands of a clock move backwards if he wanted to.
The hard part was teaching yourself to distrust reality, after all, even the most absurd things can feel perfectly reasonable in a dream. He'd had so many dreams where Aziraphale confessed his never dying love for him that when it happened for real, complete with kisses, he'd feared that he was dreaming then.
He'd learnt to recognise what was known as 'dream signs,' things that pop up in your dreams frequently and can therefore be used as a sign that you're dreaming.
Crowley's most common 'dream signs' were: other vehicles on the roads being vintage like the Bentley, not wearing his sunglasses despite being in public, and being around humans with his wings out.
He even had a dream once where he went to the bookshop and found Aziraphale cheerfully helping customers with his wings on display – but really the biggest clue had been that Aziraphale had been happy to help his customers.
When Crowley spotted these signs he could control his dream or choose to wake himself up if it was a nightmare. Handy when he had recurring dreams about helplessly falling towards a pool of boiling sulphur.
Crowley was just trying to decide whether he ought to wake himself up or carry on dreaming when a voice rang out behind him.
"Over here, Crowley!"
He turned and saw Aziraphale smiling at him. Not the real Aziraphale of course, this version was just a figment of this own imagination. The angel was sat on the grass with a chequered picnic blanket in front of him containing a tea set and a selection of cakes.
Well… there was no harm in staying in the dream a little longer.
He scratched at a particularly stubborn itch on his arm absentmindedly and then sauntering towards Aziraphale, taking a moment to alter the dream so that the ducks on the nearby lake were no longer quaking loudly and ruining the mood. He settled down on the grass beside Aziraphale. Perhaps he could get some inspiration for their real picnic later.
A shrill and insistent ringing cut through the peaceful moment. He recognised it as the alarm on his mobile phone. As tempted as he was to ignore it and remain in the dream, he knew he'd set that alarm for a good reason. He needed to get ready for his picnic with the real Aziraphale.
"Sorry, angel. I gotta go. Lunch date in the park with your other self."
Aziraphale beamed. "Oh, how romantic! How about you take a bottle of champagne along?"
"Good idea," Crowley said with a smile. "I'll see you next time."
"Toodle-oo!" Aziraphale called, waving cheerfully with one hand while lifting his teacup to his lips with the other.
Crowley let go of the dream world, allowing himself to drift away, but nothing happened. Strange. He tried again, putting more effort in this time, but still he found himself trapped in the dream. His alarm was still ringing urgently.
He couldn't regain consciousness.
It started to rain. Aziraphale's teacup filled with water while the cakes became soggy. Apparently, Crowley's subconscious felt the weather here ought to reflect the distressing situation.
Aziraphale tipped rainwater from his teacup onto the grass, and then he gave Crowley a stern look. "Switch this rain off, it's terribly distracting. And for goodness sake, calm down. It's going to be okay."
"But I can't wake up!"
The rain stopped and the sun started to shine again, instantly drying everything out.
Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Your mind seems willing. Perhaps there's something wrong with your corporation?"
"Fuck. What do I do?"
"You're not some helpless human. You're not trapped in your corporation, it's merely a vessel. If your body refuses to wake up then you can simply step out of it."
"Yeah, that's true," Crowley said, relaxing, but only a little. Was his corporation damaged? He was fond of this body, and besides, he doubted Hell would be thrilled about giving him a new one.
Crowley scratched nervously at his itchy arm. It had been bothering him quite a bit actually and now it was making him suspicious. He used his powers to inspect his corporation and found that his arm was slightly injured - little more than a pin prick - but far more concerning were the drug coursing through his blood stream.
"I've been drugged!"
Whoever did this must have snuck into the flat while he was asleep - and they were probably still here! Was it a human that did this? Or were Hell responsible?
"Good grief!" Aziraphale said. "Well, you'd better miracle it out of your system like we do with alcohol. Chop chop! There's no time to lose!"
Crowley concentrated hard. He was scared it wouldn't work – perhaps he was only trying in his dream and his efforts wouldn't translate over to the real world. But his mind was still as strong as ever, and all a miracle truly took was imagination. The drugs vanished.
It felt like coming out of a tunnel. He found himself sprawled out in his bed with one arm out on top of the sheets, an IV drip attached to it.
The incessant ringing became louder, and then abruptly stopped.
The silence was interrupted by a voice. "It's alright. It was just an alarm on Crowley's phone."
Michael. Fuck. What was she doing here and who was she talking to? Crowley's stomach flipped and it took all of his willpower not to scramble away. He kept himself very still, his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He had to gauge the situation before he did anything. Who else was involved in this? Was there anyone else in the room?
Another voice came from the hall and he recognised it immediately. "Destroy it," said Hastur.
"No," said Michael, her voice becoming quieter as she joined him in the hallway. "It might be fun to see what he's got on here. Bet he's got loads of photos and stuff. There might even be a clue about how they survived."
Hastur made a disinterested sound. "S' probably all selfies."
Crowley's recent photos included pictures of him and Aziraphale enjoying lovely days out, photos of flowers, photos of fancy meals he was planning to put on Instagram, and a few snaps of a cute cat that was napping on a wall. Plus a handful of selfies. As embarrassing as it was, Michael looking through his phone was the least of his problems right now.
Crowley opened his eyes and glanced around. He'd been able to hear someone gently snoring beside him in bed and - as he'd suspected - it was Aziraphale. He was fast asleep and also hooked up to a drip. They were alone together in the room.
Gritting his teeth, he quickly ripped out the needle from his own arm and then he did the same for Aziraphale.
Michael made an irritated noise from the living room. "I can't figure out his password! I thought it'd be 666 or something stupid like that. Never mind. I'll get Heaven to look at it. The Earth Observation Department will have someone who can hack-"
"You can't take Crowley's phone up to Heaven! They'll wonder how you got it!"
"I'll tell them exactly how I got it. I incapacitated the traitors! I'll get a commendation for sure!"
"No! I incapacitated them! This is my scheme and we're keeping it secret. I don't want this getting back to Beelzebub."
"How would it get back to Beelzebub? I'm only telling my people."
"Because your lot are gossips! Especially Gabriel. He'll tell Beelzebub immediately and I'll be in deep shit."
"But your plan worked! You can't keep this a secret forever."
"Beelzebub won't care that the plan worked! I went against orders. We're not telling anyone about this. So shut up and give me that fucking phone!"
"No! It's mine!"
"Give it!"
While listening to Hastur and Michael bicker Crowley tried to shake Aziraphale awake but it didn't work. Although he'd removed the IV drip, Aziraphale still had drugs coursing through his veins.
In the past, Crowley had helped Aziraphale sober up when he'd been too drunk to do it himself. Surely if he could remove alcohol from Aziraphale's bloodstream then he could remove drugs too.
From the hallway there came the sound of insults being thrown and a scuffle breaking out.
A quick, nervous glance at the door and then Crowley used his magic.
Nothing happened, and for an awful moment Crowley thought it hadn't worked. But then he realised that even without the drugs in his system Aziraphale would still be fast asleep. He grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him again.
Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, his entire body tensing as his eyes flew open. He looked disorientated, and when he opened his mouth to speak Crowley quickly plastered a hand over his lips.
"Shhh! We have to keep quiet," Crowley hissed. He pointed at the door, which was ajar. "Hastur and Michael."
Crowley pulled away his hand, and Aziraphale stared at him with wide eyes. From the other room came shouts of "Bird brain!" and "Shut up, wank wings!"
"They've been keeping us sedated," Crowley said, gesturing to the IV drips. "Like a forced coma or something. From what I've caught of their conversation it sounds like they're working alone."
Aziraphale sat up and winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. "A human injected me in the bookshop."
"They must have injected me while I was asleep. What should we do?"
The bickering stopped and something fell to the floor with a heavy thump. It sounded like a person.
Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged looks, and then, very quietly, they both climbed out of bed. Aziraphale was in his usual clothes while Crowley felt very underdressed in his pyjamas.
Hastur came barging into the bedroom. He was dragging Michael across the floor by her underarms while muttering angrily to himself. She appeared to be unconscious and there was a syringe sticking out of her arm.
Adrenaline pumping, Crowley leapt across the room and grabbed the plant mister from where it sat next to a potted fern. Aziraphale grabbed a table lamp and then wielded it like a weapon.
Eyes fixed on the plant mister, Hastur immediately dropped Michael and then backed away. "It was all Michael's idea! I had nothing to do with it!" Hastur spun on his heel and bolted from the room.
Crowley chased after him with the plant mister, shouting furiously as he went. Hastur had a good head start and soon vanished from Crowley's view. There came the sound of the front door of Crowley's flat being flung open and then feet thundering down the stairs.
Crowley skidded to a stop at the top of the stairwell. Through the window he saw Hastur far below, running from the building towards a grassy patch of ground. When he reached it he immediately sank into the earth. A nearby man gawked at the spot where he'd vanished, and Crowley used a miracle to make him forget what he'd just witnessed.
Crowley dashed back to Aziraphale.
"He went back down to Hell," Crowley said, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment that Hastur had escaped. As much as he'd wanted to give him a beating, he didn't want Hastur to know that the plant mister contained nothing more than tap water.
Aziraphale was stood over Michael who lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. He gave her an experimental kick - which was perhaps a little harder than necessary - but she didn't respond.
"She's out cold," Aziraphale said. He pointed at the needle that had fallen from Michael's arm during the commotion. "Hastur injected her too. Maybe she had second thoughts? Do you really think it was her idea like Hastur said?"
Crowley realised that Aziraphale had missed the entire conversation about the phone and quickly filled him in, including the part where Hastur insisted it was his idea so he should be in charge.
"He must have been intending to keep Michael drugged up like us," Crowley said. "Unless he only did it in order to get my phone back off her."
"Well, Heaven would have noticed she was missing eventually."
"I doubt Hastur thought it through, to be honest."
Aziraphale tilted his head. "How long do you think she'll be unconscious for?"
"Let's wait and see."
Aziraphale kicked her again. Just to be sure.
Authors Note:
When I came up with Hastur's plan I realised it was kinda similar to a plot point in Dogma - which amused me - so I just kinda wrote it in.