A/N: Hello, my beautiful ducks.

Beelzebub watched as the angel crumpled to the ground with a satisfying thud. Prissy little thing this one was. Who the heaven wore white with all this mud around anyway?

"This is embarrassing." The Supreme Archangel came to stand beside them, looking down at Aziraphale. "Five hundred years! They seemed to be behaving themselves. I thought the last time had to be a fluke. Makes you wonder. Neither of us sends our operatives after them every day."

Beelzebub stared at Gabriel. "You don't really think they were doing what it looked like they were doing." They kicked Aziraphale's booted foot. "He doesn't have the equipment."

"How do you know that?"

"Well? Does he?"

"How would I know that?"

They both looked down at Aziraphale, necks craned in tandem as though if they twisted the right way, they might be able to figure out what was going on beneath his clothes.

Gabriel gave his head a sharp shake. "Aside from that. I'm not sure I understand what they were doing. Why would humans want to see … that."

Beelzebub scoffed and quirked an eyebrow at the angel. "Have you ever spent much time around humans?"

Gabriel curled his lips in disgust. "As little as possible, aside from my duties. Let me tell you I wasn't sad to see that era go." He blew out a puff of air. "You do not want to know how Mary took the news."

"You're right. I don't. Anyway, the point is humans are strange creatures indeed. They think about … relations almost constantly, so it is a fair distraction from whatever it is they were actually doing." They wagged a finger in the archangel's face. "And that is what we need to be concerned about."

"What are they up to?" Gabriel said, almost to himself. "I've been over his paperwork a thousand times. I've had one of the cherubs trail him for years at a time. Aziraphale is strange, no doubt. Seems to enjoy his time with the humans, which I'll never understand, but his commitment to Heaven can't be questioned."

"So too with Crowley," Beelzebub admitted grudgingly. "He has no love of Heaven. If he's working with your angel, I can't see to what end. In fact, his paperwork seemed to indicate he's been thwarted by this one more than once."

They narrowed their eyes, studying the prone angel as though they could unlock the secret. "But any demon of Hell when offered the chance to get an angel in trouble with his boss would do it with a smile. Crowley told the truth right to your face. If not to collaborate, then why?" They turned their glare on Gabriel. "And I'm not allowed to torture the answer out of him?"

Gabriel shrugged. "It's none of my business what you do with yours. I just said you couldn't destroy him."

"True." Beelzebub brightened at the idea. "You could send this one down with me too," they said with practiced nonchalance. "Give me a decade or so, and I could make them hate each other as they were meant to." They nodded at Crowley's still form. "I'd make that one take a whip to the angel's pretty, white wings. That would remind them both who they're supposed to be."

The archangel shuddered, flexing his shoulders as though to check his hidden wings were still there and whole. He turned to them, his purple eyes glinting with malevolence. "Do not, for one second, think that we are equals, demon. The least of us is legions above you." As he spoke, he took slow, measured steps forward. Despite themself, Beelzebub found they were stepping backward. "If I didn't need the threat of Hell to reach his subconscious, I would strike you down for daring to even look at Aziraphale. You do so at my command." He bent forward until they were nose to nose. "Do we understand each other?"

Beelzebub had to swallow hard, but they were reasonably pleased when their voice came off careless and sarcastic. "It was only a suggestion, sir. I just know you have exactly two punishments in your arsenal—strongly worded notes and feeding me more willing soldiers for my master."

Gabriel straightened up. "We get along all right, bathing in God's grace and light above." He smiled beatifically. "How are the sulfurous pits?"

At that, Beelzebub had to laugh. They bowed theatrically—a move they had picked up from Crowley, truth be told—conceding the point to the archangel. "In any event. We can hope the threats we buried in their subconscious buys us another five hundred years or more. Until then, Supreme Archangel. I'll leave you to meddle with the humans' memories." They tipped their hat and, with a gesture, summoned a hole that swallowed up them and Crowley, dragging them back to Hell.

They didn't need to keep Crowley long. In fact, given that he was well liked by the Dark Council—and Beelzebub sure as Satan wasn't going to be telling them what had been going on with Crowley—there would be no way to keep him very long without arousing their suspicion.

But a little conversation wouldn't hurt, now would it?

Well.

At least it wouldn't hurt them.