The next day, just after lunch, Crowley and Aziraphale spent some time in the sitting room.
Crowley sat politely with his hands on his knees, while Aziraphale performed magic tricks for him.
Crowley felt hurt and humiliated as the angel performed miracle after miracle. He made coins disappear and then turned brightly coloured scarves into bouquets of flowers.
Crowley had been starting to think that Aziraphale was kind and thoughtful, but right now he was being incredibly insensitive. Why was he doing this? Was he teasing him on purpose? Crowley was well aware that angels were vastly superior to demons, he didn't need yet another reminder that he was weak in every way. It had been 6000 years since he'd last performed a miracle and he missed it desperately.
Also, hadn't Aziraphale said that Heaven kept tabs on the number of miracles he performed? Crowley was under the impression that Aziraphale was trying to keep his miracle count down, so why on earth was he being so flippant with them now? Had Crowley really spent all that time cleaning and washing so that Aziraphale could waste his miracles on this instead?
Yet Aziraphale seemed so pleased and excited to be performing for him. It honestly seemed as though he were trying to entertain Crowley rather than offend him. Was he really that oblivious to how hurtful this was?
Then he saw it. A scarf poking out of a sleeve. Then some sleight of hand which wasn't quiet fast enough.
Crowley realised that Aziraphale was performing these magic tricks the human way, but he couldn't understand why an angel would bother to learn this stuff.
Crowley knew what magicians were. He'd seen one on the television once. He'd been so shocked to learn that humans could perform miracles that he'd made a comment about it to his owner, who laughed at him and called him stupid before explaining that it was all a trick - some humans were just incredibly skilled with their hands.
Crowley felt stupid now for assuming that Aziraphale had been using miracles.
"Oh, blast it," Aziraphale cried out in dismay as he dropped a deck of cards. Every card was the seven of hearts. "Oh, dear. I think I'm a bit rusty at this now." He started to pick up the cards, and Crowley got down on the floor with him to help.
"Why use magic tricks when you can do real magic?" Crowley asked him.
"Well, it's nice to have a hobby, and it was great fun to learn."
Crowley tilted his head. "How did you do the magic trick with the linked rings?"
"A true magician never reveals his secrets," Aziraphale said mysteriously, but then he gave a conspiratorial grin. "But I'll make an exception this time."
Aziraphale picked up three metal rings, and as if by magic, he linked them and then unlinked them again, seemingly passing one ring through the solid metal of the other.
He did it again, but very slowly this time.
Crowley's eyebrows knitted together, and then flew up. "There's a tiny gap in one of the rings!"
"Well done!" Aziraphale said happily. "Here, would you like to try it?"
Aziraphale held out the rings, and Crowley eagerly took them. It took him a while to get the hang of the magic trick, but once he had practiced for an hour or so he found he was actually pretty good at it.
Aziraphale told Crowley that he could keep the rings, and when Crowley practiced again that night in front of his bathroom mirror, he could almost pretend that he was performing miracles again.
Crowley was sprawled on the sofa in the sitting room, an art book open on his lap and a music channel on the television.
He had been living in the lap of luxury for three weeks.
Here, he had entertainment whenever he wanted it - music, television, books – and he was free to move around the flat and go outside into the courtyard whenever he wanted to. He was even allowed to take food from the kitchen whenever he was feeling peckish - so long as it wasn't too close to mealtimes.
All he had to do in return for all of this was a few small chores. He cleaned and tidied every now and then and did the washing up, but Aziraphale wasn't strict about these things and Crowley could do them at his own convenience.
Crowley had started to assist Aziraphale with the cooking - on the days that Aziraphale didn't order delivery anyway - and together they made toasted cheese sandwiches, coconut lentil curry, and meatballs with pasta. It had been over a hundred years since Crowley had last cooked anything and he hadn't realised how much he'd missed it.
He started taking the rubbish bags outside to the wheelie bins in the courtyard, glad of any excuse to go outside. He used this opportunity to throw away spoiled food that he had been hoarding under his bed. He had stopped eating from his stash because he had no need to, he had all the food he could need, but he still couldn't stop himself from hiding some away just in case. It gave him peace of mind to know that it was there.
He started to wash both his and Aziraphale's clothes and hang them outside on the washing line to dry.
Throughout all of this, Aziraphale remained friendly and respectful towards him, and engaged him in interesting conversation. Crowley was starting to like it here. He was starting to like Aziraphale.
He had never imagined that his life could be like this, and a part of him was waiting for the bubble to burst, unable to believe that he could really be this lucky. He was a demon, he didn't deserve nice things. He supposed he would just have to make the most of it while it lasted.
There was the sound of a door opening downstairs accompanied by the jangling of the shop bell, and Crowley knew that Aziraphale was home. He had been out for a few hours, and had told Crowley to have lunch without him – whatever he fancied - so Crowley had made himself some buttered toast with crisps and an apple.
In the past, Crowley would have been glad to have some time alone without his owner around, but now he found that he missed Aziraphale when he was away. He felt lonely without him. With his old owners, he felt lonely whether they were there with him or not.
Crowley found himself racing down the stairs, putting himself in mind of a puppy greeting his master home. It made him feel pathetic. But when he reached the kitchen and saw Aziraphale holding a wooden crate full of flowers, his excitement came back double fold.
"I thought we could brighten up the garden a bit," said Aziraphale as he placed the crate on the kitchen table.
There were pansies in all colours of the rainbow, and there was something green and leafy in the corner. "What's that?" Crowley asked.
"Strawberries. I thought it might be fun to grow our own."
In the box there were two trowels and some gardening gloves.
"These are for you," said Aziraphale, handing him a red handled trowel and a dark-green pair of gloves with a snake pattern on them. Aziraphale's trowel and gloves were beige which certainly matched his aesthetic, though Crowley couldn't help but feel they would show up the dirt.
Together, they de-weeded the garden, though they kept the dandelions because Crowley liked them, and then they planted the pansies, strawberries and dandelions in the pots and also the raised flower beds.
When they were done, they sat outside drinking lemonade and admiring their hard work. Crowley couldn't stop smiling.
"I should have bought a watering can," said Aziraphale with a sigh. "I could miracle one up, I suppose, but- Well. Better not. We can use a jug instead for now."
Crowley knew that Aziraphale was worried about his frequent miracle use lately, and wasn't surprised that he wanted to hold off on performing any more.
When Aziraphale returned with the jug, Crowley offered to water the plants.
"Thank you," said Aziraphale, as he carefully handed Crowley the jug of water. "While you're doing that, I think I'll nip out to the local bakery. I'm craving a Danish pastry. What would you like?"
Aziraphale had shared a box of pastries with him last week, and Crowley had particularly enjoyed the cinnamon swirl, so he asked for one of those. Aziraphale smiled at him happily before he went back into the building.
After Crowley had watered the flowers he came back into the kitchen, set down the jug, and then washed his hands.
There came the familiar sound of the bell over the door in the shop jangling, along with doors opening and closing. Crowley dried his hands on his trousers, eager to see what delicious treats Aziraphale had bought this time. Aziraphale was bound to have been tempted by other pastries too.
The kitchen door opened, and Crowley looked up with a smile which immediately fell from his face.
It was not Aziraphale. A different angel stood in the doorway, and Crowley recognised him immediately. It was Gabriel.
Crowley froze.
Gabriel seemed startled for a moment, but then he pulled himself up to his full height, looking Crowley up and down. Crowley shrank under his gaze, resisting the urge to run.
Gabriel let out a barking laugh. "So Aziraphale really did get a demon! Wait… I know you. You used to be Michael's. I knew I recognised that red hair. You're…" Gabriel stopped, his eyes wide with the panic of someone who has just realised they've forgotten someone's name. "Cow-lee!" he said suddenly, his face full of relief.
Crowley didn't dare correct him.
Gabriel sat down at the table. "Where's Aziraphale?" he asked, looking around as though expecting him to jump out from behind a cupboard.
Crowley found his voice. "He's gone to a bakery."
A look of disapproval appeared on Gabriel's face. "Bakeries are the last place Aziraphale needs to go."
Crowley didn't know how to respond to that. He wished Aziraphale were here.
"Well? Aren't you going to offer me a hot drink?" Gabriel said, gesturing to the kettle. "Have you forgotten everything Michael taught you?"
Crowley rushed to fill the kettle with water. "I- I'm sorry. Yes, of course."
"You just can't get the help these days," Gabriel muttered to himself.
Crowley had hated being forced to act as a waiter for Michael's guests - especially Gabriel. Crowley had never liked him, even before the Fall. "Er. Would you like tea or coffee?"
Gabriel looked disgusted. "I don't sully my body with caffeine! You'll find my herbal tea in that cupboard over there. Aziraphale always has some tucked away for me. It's very good for you, you know. In fact, make a cup for yourself too - goodness knows what rubbish Aziraphale has been feeding you."
Crowley was just getting the mugs ready, and wondering if Aziraphale would want some herbal tea too, when the door opened and Aziraphale burst in with two white cardboard boxes.
"I have Danish pastries and cinnamon swirls! And some iced buns- Gabriel! What a wonderful surprise!"
Aziraphale hovered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. He smiled weakly.
"Thought I'd drop in," said Gabriel, staring at the boxes with disdain.
Aziraphale hurriedly tucked the boxes away in the fridge, and then sat opposite Gabriel at the table. He turned his attention towards Crowley. "Thank you for making the drinks, Crawly. A Coffee for me, please."
"Aziraphale, I hope you're not inflicting your terrible eating habits on this demon. They need food to survive. You don't want him dropping dead from malnutrition. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to buy them back if they discorporate? After the admin charges, and the cost of a replacement body- You really should have come to me before purchasing a demon, I could have given you so many useful tips."
"Ah. Thank you. I think we've muddled through okay."
"Stay on your guard. Demons are sneaky things," Gabriel said with a distrustful glance at Crowley. "Give them an inch and they'll take a mile. They may seem weak and feeble without their powers, but they're master manipulators. Believe me, I had my work cut out for me with Beelzebub but she knows her place now."
Crowley's throat felt tight at the thought of Beelzebub - always so proud and strong - being forced to submit to Gabriel. But Crowley couldn't imagine that anyone could ever truly break her.
Crowley placed the drinks in front of the two angels.
"Oh, thank you, my dear," said Aziraphale, clearly pleased by the distraction.
"My dear?" Gabriel scoffed. He glared at Crowley, who shrank back against the kitchen counter. "There's nothing 'dear' about a demon."
"Figure of speech," Aziraphale said faintly.
Gabriel made a shooing motion at Crowley. "You can go now. The angels need to talk."
Crowley leapt at the chance to escape this horrible social interaction, and had the door open in a flash.
"Don't forget your herbal tea," Gabriel shouted after him.
Crowley grabbed his tea and then fled the room. As he closed the door behind him he heard Gabriel say to Aziraphale, "Where did you find this idiot?"
Soon, Crowley was safe in his bedroom.
He drank the herbal tea. He enjoyed trying new things, and the drink was okay, but he much preferred the hot drinks which Aziraphale had given him before - especially the hot chocolate.
Aziraphale waved goodbye to Gabriel who was walking away down the street, and then he closed and locked the door before leaning against it. He let out a long sigh. He felt exhausted, just as he always did after spending time any length of time with Gabriel.
He had hoped that Gabriel might have had an update about the welfare of the demons in the Demon Rehoming House, but the way Gabriel deflected any questions on the matter made Aziraphale doubt that he had looked into it at all. Aziraphale felt disappointed but not surprised.
Instead, Gabriel seemed to have visited him simply to warn him against becoming too familiar with his demon, telling him that Crawly would try to take advantage of even the smallest hint of weakness.
"I've seen how you get with the humans," Gabriel had accused. "You treat them like injured birds that need to be looked after. Do not treat this demon like that, no matter what happens. Demons are evil. They rebelled against God, and against us. Do not let your guard down."
Then he started talking about discipline and how you have to be cruel to be kind, but Aziraphale knew that'd be a terrible approach with Crawly.
Aziraphale had tried to explain how frightened and nervous Crawly had been when he had first brought him home, and how anxious he still was most of the time. He told Gabriel that Crawly had confided in him that his last owner had hurt him, but Gabriel didn't want to hear any of it, and just assumed Crawly had been lying or exaggerating the truth in order to gain Aziraphale's sympathy. He told Aziraphale not to take anything Crawly said too seriously.
Aziraphale found the conversation depressing, and found himself worrying about how Beelzebub was being treated, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything to help her. He felt powerless.
But at least he could protect Crawly.
After putting the kettle on, Aziraphale took the two boxes out of the fridge. He opened them, and stared at the delicious treats within, feeling a mixture of longing and guilt, remembering Gabriel's disapproval.
It was bad enough to have Gabriel belittling him like that at the best of times, let alone when Crawly was there to witness it. To have his eating habits mocked like that in front of Crawly had been humiliating. What must Crawly think of him?
Aziraphale closed the boxes and then put them back in the fridge, his appetite gone. Perhaps they could eat the pastries for dessert after dinner instead.
A few days later, Crowley was curled up on the sofa watching a film. There came the noise of a door opening downstairs and Crowley leapt up, the film quickly forgotten now that Aziraphale had returned home. He hurried downstairs, eager for company.
As he walked along the hall he started to worry that this might just be another angel stopping by for a random visit. Did all angels let themselves in as Gabriel had? He certainly didn't want to risk another encounter like the last one, so he approached the doorway cautiously. He saw a hint of Aziraphale's camel coat, and, feeling reassured, he marched into the room.
"Welcome home, Azira-"
He stopped in the doorway. Aziraphale was sat at the kitchen table, hunched over with his head in his hands. He was crying.
For a moment, Crowley didn't know what to do. Should he leave him alone? His previous owners would have hated to be seen like this by a demon. But Aziraphale had always comforted him whenever he was upset, and he wanted to comfort Aziraphale too. It felt wrong to just walk away and leave him like this.
"Oh!" Aziraphale glanced up. He turned his head away and dried his eyes on his sleeve, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry," he said in a shaky voice. "I've had a rough day."
Crowley thought back to when Aziraphale had made him a hot chocolate to comfort him - he'd said that a hot beverage always made him feel better when he was feeling down. "Would you like a hot drink?"
"Oh, yes please. A cup of tea would be nice. Thank you."
Crowley made them each a drink, and then he placed Aziraphale's cup in front of him.
"Thank you," Aziraphale said quietly, drying his eyes on his handkerchief.
Crowley wondered what has upset him, but he didn't want to pry. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Aziraphale shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I'm just being silly. It's my own fault for growing so attached. A friend of mine - a human – he passed away."
Crowley's mouth opened in surprise. None of his old owners had ever been particularly fond of any humans. They saw them as being beneath them, like ants.
"They all do eventually," Aziraphale continued. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now. But he was only in his sixties, and I thought there was still plenty of life in the old boy yet."
"Maybe you can go and visit him in Heaven," Crowley said, trying to cheer him up, but Aziraphale just stared miserably into his teacup, his mouth a tight, straight line.
Crowley realised that he'd made a terrible assumption. Perhaps this human hadn't been able to get into Heaven even with Aziraphale's influence. From what Crowley had heard over the centuries, it was difficult for humans to become pure enough to get into Heaven.
"I wish I could," said Aziraphale with a sigh, "but angels are not permitted to see the souls of humans once they pass over. I couldn't even see Adam and Eve - I was terribly disappointed." A smile pulled at Aziraphale's lip. "But you're right. He'll be up there somewhere – along with Adam and Eve and all the others. Gabriel assured me that their souls are in Heaven, so it must be true. Oh, but it would be nice to see my old friends again."
"It's not fair that you're not allowed to see them. I mean, why-" Crowley stopped himself. He had learnt the hard way that questioning the things Heaven did was a dangerous thing to do. After all, it had been his constant questions that had led to him becoming a demon in the first place.
"I don't know," Aziraphale said. "Gabriel didn't explain. It's just one of those things I suppose. Ineffable." Aziraphale took a sip of his tea, and then he looked at Crowley over the top of his teacup. He smiled. "I'm glad you're here. You're immortal, just like me."
Crowley smiled back, feeling warm inside. 'Just like me.' It meant a lot that Aziraphale saw them as being equals in any way at all.
"I'm glad I'm here too," Crowley said.
He felt like he now truly understood why Aziraphale had wanted a demon. It wasn't just about being lonely and wanting company, it was about having a friend who wouldn't end up leaving him like the humans did. Crowley knew humans had short life spans, but he hadn't realised just how difficult that would be for an angel who lived amongst them.
From what Crowley could tell, Aziraphale didn't have any close friends amongst the angels.
Over the centuries, many angels had visited Michael - Gabriel included - but Crowley had never seen Aziraphale among them. Even his last owner had plenty of angels visiting him, though Crowley had never been allowed in the same room as them. Aziraphale's only visitor so far had been Gabriel, and Aziraphale had seemed uncomfortable around him.
Aziraphale deserved to have a true friend, and Crowley wanted to be that friend. He was going to be the best damned friend anyone had ever had.
Author's Notes:
I don't think the book or the show really talk about what happens to humans after they die? In the show the delivery guy that comes to collect the sword asks Aziraphale if he believes in life after death, and Aziraphale replies, "I suppose I must do." Which implies to me that Aziraphale might not actually know for sure what happens to humans after death. That got me thinking, which is where the last scene came from.
In the book there's a joke about how the road to Hell is paved with frozen door-to-door salesmen, so we know what happens to them anyway :S