BEFORE THE BEGINNING
She had created this vast space ever so long ago, preparing it for when they would all be ready to turn the lights on for her newest creation. The first step was one of the most important, and it was given to them to perform. Flicking their hand, the scroll unwound itself, and they struggled to keep the paper in place as they went to put the crank in. Far be it for them to complain about how their mother created the plans and condensed the creation, but they believed - at least inwardly - that a different medium would have made this cranking job a little bit easier.
They felt something behind them, probably another angel rushing off to do God's bidding, "EXCUSE ME?"
Hopefully, the passing angel would enjoy being on the front line as creation made its first building blocks. It was quite the honour, after all.
They watched as the fellow being of light turned around abruptly and swooped over with a flick of their (admittedly rather fetching) wings.
"Yes? Was that you?"
They looked at the angel before them; something about their energy was warm - far more expressive than most of the other angels that God had created as of late. Since Samael started getting a little mouthy, the new angels that Mum had been cranking out tended to be a little... One dimensional. Their mother seemed to have stopped doing that because even though this angel was young, the feelings that leaked from them were far more expressive than any Angel had seen come to light in a long time.
Suddenly, they remembered that they needed to respond, "Oh, hi, yeah. Err, look, if you don't mind, would you hold this while I 'crank' it all up?"
"Do I need to hold in any particular way or?" The angel asked as he was handed the paper, moving it around perhaps a little too much. Still, they couldn't help but smile at the Angel's willingness to assist.
"Just hold it there, nice and tight!" They put the crank into the middle of the vastly simplified scratching on the paper and started spinning it around a few times, "Now get ready because it's going to happen!"
They couldn't stop the excited smile from rushing to their face.
"What precisely do I need to get ready for?" The angel stuttered, sounding slightly more nervous.
"Oh, don't worry! You'll love it!" They couldn't help the tinkling laughter that escaped as they teased the angel with just a little knowledge - they cranked one more time, and the picture on the paper started to light deep within, "Right! You can put it down now."
So the angel did, tossing the parchment into the abyss without a second thought - a little obedient that one.
"Is that all?"
"Nono! That was just priming the engine. This is the fun bit." They turned slightly and started to gesture with their hands, "Why I've been waiting for this since, well... Always!"
"Uhm... Hello!" The angel spoke.
'Hmm, perhaps I was wrong, maybe this is another one of Mum's weird ones lately...' They thought as the younger angel interrupted him again. Clearly, they had already exchanged greetings! It was time to start the universe, not converse with one another!
"My name is Aziraphale!" The angel spoke again.
"Nice meeting you," They spoke abruptly before turning back to the vast nothing before them, "Okay! Here goes! Let there be matter, let there be gravity, let there be everything from pages 11 to 3,000,602 inclusive."
They had to stop momentarily and stare at the nothing that soon wouldn't be nothing. It would be filled with life, with light! The same light their mother gave to all the angels - and it was something that they could contribute to. Something they had added their own creation into.
"Is something meant to happen?" The angel inquired.
"Oh, right! Sorry!" They had forgotten for just a moment that they weren't the only ones here. They held out their hand and gestured, "Let there be light!"
And oh... there was.
A brilliant spectacle unfolded, a vivid spectacle of gleaming colours radiating outward, filling the vastness of space. Young stars scurried into their appointed locations, setting against a canvas of twinkling stardust and nascent nebulae. As it all unfurled before them, a surge of anticipation sent shivers through their being, the light generating a comforting warmth that coursed within, reminiscent of the embrace bestowed upon them by their Creator. An exuberant squawk, undeniably brimming with excitement, slipped from their being, and they were glad Samael wasn't present to tease them about the less-than-dignified sound. Yet, once one exclamation danced free, any pretence of concealing their joy dissolved, even if they had entertained the notion, "Look at you! You're gorgeous!~"
They thought they wouldn't ever get to feel that kind of adoration for something.
"You made it all yourself?" The angel sounded a mix of impressed, slightly off balance, and hesitant.
They cleared their throat, "Ah... Well, more or less. I wasn't... I wasn't the um... I wasn't the original concept designer-" That being their mother and all, "- but I worked very closely with upstairs on it."
"Well, it's very pretty," Angel spoke.
They continued to stare at it softly before the words registered, and they swung their gaze back to the angel once more with a wide grin and a chuckle, "Oh, thank you~!"
"So what's it all for?"
"How do you mean?" It's for everything; it has infinite possibilities!
"What's it all do?" The Angel asked.
They grinned wide; this was perhaps their favourite subject to talk about after all, "Right! Well, what doesn't this beauty do? Basically, it's a star factory. All the dust and gas you can see, it's actually building about 5,000 young stars and protoplanets. Most of the stuff in the universe we will be acting in primarily will come preaged, but these ones are only starting out. A few million years to bake, and then BOOFM! Stars everywhere."
They couldn't stop themselves from gesturing wildly as they spoke, excitement once again getting the better of them.
"Oh, that's nice..." The sentence lingered, almost as if suspended by an invisible thread, and then the angel hesitated, the faintest traces of nervousness colouring the following words. "You know the current word from upstairs is that we'll be shutting this all down again in about... 6,000 years."
Oh no, She wouldn't... Would She?
A wave of sadness washed over them. It was like a sudden, sharp sting of emotion pulling at their core. The massive impact of it all felt like a weight on their shoulders - the Creator's decision casting a dark shadow over the masterpiece they had worked so hard to bring into existence. Once a bright and lively display - the universe now seemed so delicate, teetering on the brink of falling apart. But it couldn't - it had just been born! The light that had recently filled them with such pure joy now carried a heartbreaking note of sorrow, knowing that it was destined to disappear into nothingness, "But that's nothing!"
Their wings, once outstretched in boundless optimism, faltered. The wing's graceful span folded as the wave of sorrow emanating from those words washed over them. A surge of frustration followed a swift anger sparking in their essence. "What's the point in creating an infinite universe with trillions of star systems pre-made if you're only gonna let it run for a few thousand years? She knows the engine won't have properly warmed up by then!"
The other angel explained, but they could only feel a deep sadness. They blocked out the angel's words about Earth and the biological team's creation. They didn't want to listen to the angel or try to see and understand the plan that apparently included their universe's death.
"But that's idiocy!" They couldn't help but interrupt, "It's my universe, not just some fancy wallpaper for the biological team's creation to gaze at! Millions of galaxies, trillions of stars, oodles of... everything! It's not just put here to twinkle! Worst yet! Most of it won't even be visible from Earth! Why didn't she have us put Earth in the middle of the universe so that the views are better if that's all it's meant to be!"
"It's not our job to advise The Almighty on the-" The angel continued, but it was too late. She had answered their questions before. Surely it wouldn't be a problem. It was something She had given them after all - the inquisitive nature of a creator.
And so, amid the expanse of existence, a sense of determination radiated from their very being, emboldening their words. "It'll be fine! How much trouble could I get in just for asking a few questions!"
As they stood amidst the illimitable vastness of space, newly created stars danced around them. The immense energy of creation continued putting on a stunning show, with stars spiralling and playing like joyful children. Their glowing trails create beautiful patterns across the universe. They instinctively lifted a wing to shield their companion from the lively chaos of zooming stars. Aziraphale was younger- and was no archangel - there was a genuine risk of them getting hurt by the stars that darted around them. So, while the fiery spectacle of creation blazed in the distance, they kept a watchful eye on their companion, ensuring their safety. Their attention was split – partly on the awe-inspiring birth of stars and partly on protecting Aziraphale.
CURRENT TIMES
He loved this park with a passion. Of course, the history of its significance as a meeting place with Aziraphale had a lot to do with it, but the general ease of getting a little mischievous with the spies was tempting. Crowley even allowed that amusement to fill him as a large man sat down next to him, ignoring the fact that the demon was reading the paper, and started a code that the man three benches over had been waiting about an hour for, "Wrong bench, you want the Azerbaijani Sector Chief, he's over there."
Crowley did, of course, wave him in the completely opposite direction from the Azerbaijani Sector Chief.
The man got up, and Crowley allowed a smirk to spread across his face as he went off.
A small moment of calm.
He felt more than heard Shax appear, and immediately, a subtle tension crept into his frame. Casually, he pulled the newspaper down toward his lap, adjusting himself with a calculated nonchalance, all while maintaining the slouched position against the bench. No way would he show any type of worry in the face of his replacement - Shax. Crowley had never liked her, even more so now that Crowley found himself on the outs with upper management.
"I brought your mail." The smug prick.
Take my flat and complain about the mail, huh? Yes, Crowley was less than impressed with Shax. Crowley had never made a particular point of being some vicious, bloodthirsty demon. Still, surely the head offices thought more of Crowley than to have his apparent replacement a dunderhead who Crowley knew couldn't spell past a preschooler level.
Better not to let her know his moment of internal aggravation, "Anything interesting?"
"Bills mostly, don't know why they won't just deliver them to your car."
"Send the bills to Hell's Finance Office."
"I did. They said they can't accept my signature as your replacement." Shax spoke, but all that left her mouth were lies. Crowley knew damn well that Hell, even after having broken ties with him, would never have left him without finances on Earth. Far too many liabilities all around - This was just Shax being difficult. So as payback, when Crowley saw one of the spies pulling out some bread, he shouted, "Don't give them bread, you idiot! Ducks shouldn't eat bread!"
"What are you meant to give them then?" Shax asked, and for a moment Crowley considered that his shouting hadn't annoyed her, but then he saw that slight tightness in the corner of her eyes.
Time to change the subject then, "Do they know?"
"The ducks?"
Oh, Darling... Crowley internally crowed at her poor, smooth brain - as the kids called it these days - before clarifying, "Downstairs. Do they know that you're checking in on me?"
The answer was most definitely yes. Crowley was just curious if Shax knew or if she really believed that she was on top of things. The demonic energy practically spewed off her; she couldn't have hidden from the head office if she tried.
"Why would they bother? As I have since found out, Hell doesn't really seem to care how jobs get done." Shax's words hung in the air, and they bore a certain logic. As Crowley listened, a hint of amusement danced at the corners of his mind. He understood the sentiment, even if he knew it was fundamentally misguided. For that to work, you needed to be far more subtle than Shax seemed capable of.
Shax, as a demon of considerable power (but not that considerable; she was still pretty low on the ladder but was a fallen angel and not a human-made demon), emitted an aura of demonic presence. It was as if the air around her crackled with a chaotic energy. Such power couldn't be easily concealed, and Crowley knew that it would inevitably draw the attention of both Heaven and Hell. Shax and her inability to mask herself created a focal point for cosmic surveillance. Heaven and Hell were undoubtedly keeping tabs on her. Luckily for her, Crowley did not intend to reveal his involvement in the unfolding drama. He had deliberately maintained a veil of shielding, ensuring that anyone who turned their attention toward Shax wouldn't inadvertently catch a glimpse of Crowley.
This likely would save Shax's life from the holy water bath she would have undertaken had she been caught interacting with him. Not that Crowley cared about that, but it was likely a side effect. If he had cared about her wellbeing, he would have taught her to shield herself as Crowley and Aziraphale had learned to do all those years ago.
He didn't.
No point in making her better at the job, though. Her ineptitude could be used to his advantage at some point, "You're right. I remember perfectly well. So long as it gets done, it doesn't matter who does them."
He was starting to get tired of the little game and wished for Shax to just get out the point of her being here so he could make his way to the new shop he had heard of. Crowley had heard about a new brunch spot that was undoubtedly his Angels type. Pastries for the Angel and copious amounts of alcohol for the demon.
"... and something's up."
Not good, "Up where?"
"Up... up..." She clarified, flicking her eyes to the sky as she spoke.
Crowley wanted to suck air through his teeth. It had been calm for some time now, and the last thing he needed was the Up or the Down to get any ideas. Time spent with the Angel had been far exceeding anything they had been able to do before; now that their Offices both knew they worked together, the lack of need to hide...
Crowley could feel a hiss building in the back of his throat as he considered the peace they had carved out for themselves being threatened.
He kept his tone as light as possible, "Something big?"
"Don't know. We just got a rumour that something's going down in the Up."
A rumour like that was likely highly substantiated. If a rumour made it all the way to Hell, nine times out of ten, it was accurate. Crowley's fist clenched without a conscious thought from the man himself. Shax asked for information that Aziraphale might have, but Crowley knew for a fact that the Angel hadn't been contacted - and he told Shax that, if only to keep her away from attempting to see the Angel herself.
"Frozen peas, that's what you feed ducks," Crowley stated before pushing himself away from the bench and starting toward the Bentley without glancing backwards at Shax.
Crowley's Bentley glided along the bustling city streets until he spotted a discreet side road. With a deft manoeuvre - he parked his car and ended the engine's rumble with a screeching halt. The elusive spot the demon had heard about was a mere few feet away. It is rumoured to offer delectable pastries and exquisite mimosas. His curiosity was piqued, and he was determined to verify the authenticity of this find before introducing Aziraphale to the delights it promised. As he stepped out of the car, the brisk air of the city enveloped him - and it carried with it a blend of scents — exhaust fumes, the distant aroma of brewing coffee, and the occasional whiff of fresh pastries wafting from the direction of his destination.
He had been through countless restaurants and cafes, each time hoping to discover a place worthy of his angelic companion's refined palate. With his discerning tastes and deep appreciation for culinary pleasures, Aziraphale was someone for whom dining was a delicate art form, and Crowley took pride in finding those rare gems that would satisfy the angel's palate. Usually, the places were expensive, but oh so worth it - getting to watch the Angel consuming in that all too sensual way the Angel did.
But, of course, his phone rang, interrupting the exploratory mission.
Shax, again.
Hopefully, being on Earth will teach her the fantastic ability called reading the room. Crowley clearly didn't want to be near the woman, yet just as soon as he answered the phone, he could feel the demonic energies pushing through the line, "Just some more information for you."
"Okay. Basic demon on Earth stuff. Either call on the phone and talk or appear mysteriously. Don't do both. It's like a double negative." Crowley took his arm off his beloved Bentley and turned to face the demon who appeared behind him.
"Why not?"
Overplayed, and my shoes are too big for you to fill, sweetheart, he thought to himself before simply saying with a sigh, "Trust me."
"Righto." Crowley withheld the right to cringe at that vocabulary later even as she cleared her throat and seemed to regret her own word choice, "A little more information has emerged about the business in the upper floors. Whatever's going on concerns Gabriel."
The name ignited a now familiar sort of hatred that Crowley hadn't used to associate with anyone in Heaven or Hell, not until the trials he and the Angel had undergone. The news itself, though, held a different kind of fascination for Crowley. It was less about intrigue and more about a certain sense of delightful irony. He couldn't help but relish the notion of Gabriel being in a spot of trouble with his pompous and self-righteous demeanour. The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable as he remarked, "His royal smugness is in trouble? That's so sad."
As the words left his lips, Crowley's demeanour shifted slightly, a blend of dark humour and a sardonic grin hinting at the vast reservoir of disdain he held for the celestial hierarchy.
"Is it? Why?"
That one was actually a little cute, "Sarcasm; we'll work on it next time. Is that all?"
But Shax had already disappeared. Crowley allowed himself a frown as he mulled over the new information. So quickly too, Heaven clearly wanted this information out, most likely meaning that they were after Gabriel. How nostalgic it would feel if Heaven managed to catch up with Gabriel. It had been a while since the sky was lit up by the falling star that was an archangel's Grace.
Crowley thought to himself he might like to see that.
Still better to check up on the Angel. Satan knows what he had gotten himself into already, and the last thing they needed was for Aziraphale to get involved in this mess in any way whatsoever.
Crowley was already speeding toward the bookshop when the car's speakers started to ring. A sign of a supernatural touch on human technology, Aziraphale likely told the phone itself to just call Crowley's car. Either way, Crowley had a had feeling -
"Hello, it's me." Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley could feel his lips twitch just slightly toward the right, a grin threatening to pull itself onto his face, "Don't say anything."
Any smirk that might have wanted to appear was gone immediately, and instead, Crowley thought about the tone of his voice, the manner that Crowley knew meant that the Angel was deep in the shit and wanted to at least talk the situation out -
There was a pause, "Are you there?"
"Should I say something now?" Crowley wondered, hoping that there wasn't actually anyone listening into this mess of a conversation and that instead, it was just the Angel's normal though adorable, dramatics.
"No. Meet me over the road from the bookshop. I'll be in Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Over the road."
Crowley got a little more worried, not even meeting in Angel's beloved bookshop - and at a coffee shop, no less! The Angel hates coffee far too bitter for the man. He enjoyed more floral notes or perhaps some light earthy tastes.
"Two minutes," Crowley claimed, good that he had already been on the way, but he still pressed the gas harder and urged the car to go just a little bit faster.
He swung into the spot more than parked into it. His beloved Bentley's tires smoke slightly as they skid to a stop. Immediately, Crowley turned himself out of the car, glancing at the bookshop before entering the coffee shop directly next door. It was far too bright inside; looking at the dull cream colours in the bookshop was far easier on the eyes. As his eyes focused in on the familiar curly blonde hair, Crowley strode over, allowing himself to settle slightly - yes, the angel was fine, even though he was using his help me voice on the phone.
Plopping down, he leaned back and placed one arm on the back of the chair, "Right, what's the problem?"
"Problem? Who said there was a problem?" Aziraphale deflected, the angel shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the lie left his mouth. Some things always stayed the same. The angel always seemed to struggle with lying; it had nearly gotten the two of them caught centuries ago. It was a fortuitous thing then that Crowley was good enough at lying for the both of them.
"Tone of voice." Before the whole end of the world that they avoided, Crowley would have never let this sort of familiarity pass his lips, but now there was no point in hiding it, "You have three reasons you call me: you're bored, you need to tell someone about something clever you did before you pop, or something is wrong. This was your somethings wrong voice."
Crowley did try to rein in any audible concern that might have otherwise coated the words.
"It's nice to tell someone about the good things you've done -"
"You're deflecting, Angel," Crowley claimed.
Before Crowley could push farther, a beautiful young woman strode over, "Hello. Can I get you anything?"
"Take a big cup, put six shots of expresso into it, nothing else." Usually, someone might assume an order like that was for dramatic effect, and Crowley was quite the proponent of dramatic impact. In this case, however, this was his standard coffee order. It also happened to be something that helped him continue to appropriate his demonic persona, which wasn't really a persona.
"That sounds fun. Does it calm you down?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley took a moment to debate whether or not he would like to introduce Aziraphale to the world of highly caffeinated beverages. Imagining the poor Angel anymore keyed up than he was right now was enough for Crowley to decide against that.
"Not really," Crowley admitted, his teeth clenched slightly as the day's information weighed on him. He could only hope that whatever the Angel was hiding at the moment would be a simple fix.
"Nina, what do you sell that calms people down?"
Nina, as her name seemed to be, released a breath as she thought the question over, "Eccles cakes?"
Aziraphale's eyes met Crowley's across the table before the angel nodded quickly.
"How's your naked man friend?"
Crowley felt his eyes widen; he sat up slightly more straight and raised his eyebrows toward his companion. Now in their long life, as of so far, Aziraphale, to Crowley's knowledge, didn't have any naked man friends. Yet, the way that Angel's eyes popped open slightly, flustered and stuttering to explain himself, "He's not, he's not my..."
Crowley allowed a slight smirk to come across his face.
"Well, he's certainly not naked anymore." Aziraphale's voice warbled slightly.
"You're a dark horse, Mr. Fell."
Oh, Crowley was having mixed feelings about this barista right now. On the one hand, he really wanted her to get out of here so that he could prod and tease his Angel about the naked man friend that he seemed to have acquired, yet on the other hand, the woman had done him the not inconsiderable favour of giving him ammunition to throw at his -
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
- friend. For that, the demon found himself rather ingratiated.
"Are you a bookseller too?"
Just like that, any gratitude was gone. Why did the people around here always ask him if he was a bookseller? Crowley crafted his current visage with the opposite of a bookseller in mind, "Not even at gunpoint."
"This is ... uhm...Crowley, he and I," Angel met his eyes again, and Crowley tried to keep his internal delight hidden as the angel lowered his voice a few octaves, "We go back a long time."
"Charmed." Crowley followed up. Now, please leave so I can interrogate my Angel on the naked man friend.
She walked away, and Crowley turned toward Aziraphale. The demon leaned forward against the table as he studied his companion, "A naked man friend, Angel?"
Aziraphale seemed too overwhelmed for words and just shrugged, his face a complicated mess of emotions.
"Would this have anything to do with the trouble I heard is going on in heaven right now?" Crowley asked, but he did dread the answer.
This time the angel gave a nod.
"Why don't we go into your shop and discuss it there? Meeting in the open like this is rather unlike you."
No reaction.
Back to teasing then, "Is it because there's a naked man there? You know, Angel, I'm a demon. I'm hardly one to judge-"
"Oh, stop it!" The Angel snapped slightly, his fluster reaching the breaking point. Crowley knew he couldn't go further; the last time he tried, the Angel nearly burst into tears. That was something Crowley had no intention of ever getting a repeat performance on, "He's not naked anymore!"
Okay, they weren't going to get anywhere without getting into that bookshop because the bashful nature of his dearest - friend - wasn't allowing the Angel to speak of what was happening here. The discomfort painted across the Angel's face made Crowley want to reach out, to comfort his friend, a touch to the shoulder - But he wasn't allowed to do that. Instead, he asked, "Is it something I can help you with?"
The angel gave another aborted shrug.
Well, time to figure it out then. Once the coffee arrived, Crowley chugged it down swiftly and slammed the mug on the table. Moving directly over to the counter, he pulled out his card (Always pay, Angel doesn't like it when you dine and dash) and gave the girl an extra 50 dollars (Angel was taking the plate with him, plus she was most definitely amusing for a human) before he opened the door for Angel and let the still visibly uncomfortable man walk out.
"Oh! Mr. Fell? About the rent? I just want to say - you're an angel." A young blonde girl spoke. Crowley was immediately reminded of Aziraphale himself, she dressed around a decade of fashion ago, and her emotions were light in the air - comforting in a way. Crowley studied the girl for a moment and raised an eyebrow; internally, he shrugged. It was just like the Angel helping those in need.
"Oh, nothing of the sort!" Aziraphale clearly floundered for a moment before reaching out his arm, holding the plate containing his newly purchased (rather expensive) desserts, "Eccles cake?"
The girl waved him off, and Angel and Demon turned on their heel to walk away.
"Doing good again, Angel?" Crowley inquired, if only to help disperse more of the Angel's chaotic, worried energy.
"It hardly counts, purely selfish action."
Crowley knew for a fact that was false, for as much as Angel sometimes tried to downplay his own good deeds, Crowley knew him far better than that. Of course, as they approached the bookshop, Aziraphale handed Crowley the near-pilfered treats as he unlocked the door. The demon looked down at them with an almost sigh, resisting the urge to throw the plate on the ground quickly enough with thoughts of how the Angel might actually eat and enjoy the damned things.
As they entered, Aziraphale rushed around and pulled the blinds down. Crowley used that privacy to take his glasses off (he did note that he had been doing that around the Angel more and more often lately).
"I didn't want to say it out there, but I've heard that something a bit weird is happening with your old lot." Crowley paused for a second and hoped HOPED that the Angel wouldn't confirm what he had been worried about ever since he got the call earlier, "You'll never guess who Shax was asking about."
"Yes, I think perhaps I will."
Crowley allowed his eyes to close slightly as that revelation drifted over him.
Humans say that when you lose one of your senses, the body will adjust and open your others to compensate for the loss. For Angels and Demons, this was quite true as well. Not looking can open up your senses to other things, and one of the other things that Crowley was sensing right now made his skin itch. His teeth ground together - Now that he knew Aziraphale had something to do with Gabriel, it would hardly be a surprise for more trouble to come tumbling down on all of them. Said trouble was signalled by the little fly taunting the edge of Crowley's senses.
Crowley opened his eyes and still didn't want to believe it. (Angel was meant to be safe, they were both meant to be safe from their respective sides for at least a decade, and Crowley categorically did. not. want. this. trouble.) "Perhaps you will? Well - Go on then, guess."
"Jim!"
Relief. So perhaps the fly he was sensing was trouble, but at least the naked man friend wasn't Gabriel. Still, that most certainly left him with the question of just who was - "Jim? Do we know a Jim?"
Indeed they have known a few Jim's over the ages, but no one particularly stood out.
"Hi there!"
Crowley swung around, and there he was. Gabriel, though his eyes were no longer glowing with that self-righteous purple he had taken to over the aeons. Was the man wearing a toga? Clearly, the naked man friend. And yes, even without a spot of the man's divinity pouring from its tightly wound vessel, Crowley couldn't help but take a panicked step back and flounder, "Argh! Gabriel!"
"See, I told you I looked like a Gabriel."
No. NO! NO! Crowley looked back and forth between toga Gabriel and the still panicked-looking Aziraphale. He took the take multiple times, yet Gabriel's visage never left, "What is he doing here?"
"I don't know." Aziraphale sped and walked right to Crowley's side
Something clearly wasn't right though, all that Grace so tightly wound up in Gabriel's body, never mind the fact that Crowley had never seen his br- The Supreme Archangel wearing anything other than heavenly attire, and Crowley knew damn well Gabriel never wanted that to change, "What's happened to him?"
"I don't know!" Aziraphale replied again, his voice quaking slightly.
"Well, ask him!" Crowley demanded - the demon hardly wanted to look at Gabriel after the last time they met and most certainly didn't want to talk with him for fear of losing it and attempting to snap the man out of existence.
"I have!" Aziraphale defended himself, "He doesn't know either."
Anger clouded Crowley's judgement, "Ask him - properly!"
Aziraphale looked put off and almost a little hurt by Crowley snapping. It cooled him off and allowed the demon a moment to calm his nerves. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his Angel. So instead, he turned to Gabriel, his teeth gritting, and he could feel the venom pooling in his mouth, sour and still oh so furious, "WHAT... ARE YOU... DOING...IN THIS... BOOKSHOP?!"
Crowley stepped closer to the Archangel with every word, allowing the curl of demonic temptation to coat each word.
But the power did nothing; the words had been powered by so much demonic intervention that Gabriel should have spilt his whole life story on how he managed to get here, yet Gabriel only looked confused. Crowley knew this to be genuine too, making the entire situation far more infuriating. If Gabriel had ever had a sense of humour, Crowley would have thought he was using it when he responded with equal dramatic pauses, "I... am... DUSTING!"
Crowley stalked away, not looking back as he entered the storage room, knowing damned well that Aziraphale knew to follow him there. So the Angel did; Crowley heard him speak hushed to Gabriel, telling the man to stay put, before Crowley opened the door and let Aziraphale in before the demon closed the door behind them. Aziraphale had calmed down a little bit. Instead, Crowley felt like he was the one carrying that nervous energy from earlier. He would do anything, anything, to make sure that Gabriel was as far away from Aziraphale as he could possibly be. Those two should be in different rooms, even with the lack of memories taken into account. -
Shut your stupid mouth, and die already.
"So," Crowley allowed himself to pace slightly as if to burn off some of the energy, "Okay. Okay, this is the plan. We can just take him somewhere and leave him there."
"Take him where?" Aziraphale asked, and his tone was already borderline on defensive of the Archangel.
Crowley wanted to close his eyes, take a breath, and calm down; he wanted that damned Archangel nowhere near HIS Angel. Crowley also, most certainly, wanted Aziraphale to have not already gotten attached, but somehow the demon knew it was already too late for that. It was like a child naming a stray pet they found on the street; there was no getting rid of it after it was named. What was this, another part of Her Almighty, Ineffable, NEVER UNDERSTANDABLE PLAN?
"Anywhere!" Crowley tried to think of a way to frame this to best suit his Angel's morality, "Think about it, Angel, it'll be good for him! He learns about being human - I saw this in a human movie once, and it worked great for Thor! Let him see what being human is like, then if he ever gets his memory back, he'll actually be a decent person. Might not be possible for his smug, pompous, self-congratulatory ASSHOLENESS!" Crowley paused and lowered his tone, "But at least he will be out of our hair - that's the important part."
But Crowley was right; it was too late, "But Crowley, he's in trouble."
"Then we should get as far from him as we can, as quickly as possible." Crowley reasoned, and still had no idea how the fly he sensed worked into this whole equation, but it certainly didn't make it any better.
"He said something terrible was going to happen to him."
Crowley couldn't resist, "Couldn't have happened to a nicer Archangel."
Aziraphale gave Crowley a reproachful look, "I just..."
From the start, this whole conversation was damned, but if he could just get Aziraphale to see reason. If he could let the angel see some of the reasoning behind Crowley's anger, "Angel, this is the Supreme Archangel of Heaven. Your former boss! Who tried very hard to cast you into hellfire and destroy you. He is not our friend. He doesn't deserve our help, in fact, I have half the mind to-"
Crowley cut himself off.
"Well, I mean, I don't think he has any friends..." Aziraphale explained, his hands wringing together in the century-old dance the Angel did to show his anxiety.
"Exactly!"
"Yes, exactly."
Crowley finally allowed his eyes to close slightly. He slumped forward a little bit. He wasn't going to win this, "What does your exactly mean exactly? I feel like my exactly and your exactly are two vastly different exactlys and I don't exactly appreciate that."
"Well, he doesn't have any friends, so he needs us."
Angel wasn't hearing him, and it was starting to annoy, "What I need is for him to be nowhere near me -" And more importantly, nowhere near you, "-and the precious, peaceful, fragile existence that I have carved out for myself here."
Aziraphale actually looks slightly hurt by this, "I thought we carved it out for ourselves."
We DID! Then you decided you would put both of us in danger - "SO DID I!"
"Very well."
Crowley recognized that stubborn tilt to Aziraphale's jaw, the hurt still in his eyes. Every time they argued, this look would come onto his friend's face, but the man always made one last attempt, "- If you refuse to help me, you are at liberty to go."
Crowley gritted his teeth together at the attempted guilt trip. He would help Aziraphale with nearly anything; the only times he had ever refused his Angel in thousands of years was when the whim of his Angel was dangerous to himself. Damned if it didn't make Crowley even more angry, all he wanted was for the Angel to be safe - "To go? Oh really, this is how you wanna do it?"
Crowley gestured between them - they had both been doing so good. They had been going out together more often. Being separated from Heaven and Hell was doing them both so good, and Angel was threatening to throw it all away to help the lost puppy that had tried to kill him.
But the Angel retained his stubborn jaw for one more moment before breaking and continuing to the begging phase of their arguments, "No! I would love you to help me."
Crowley softened for just a minuscule second to think of what it would mean to help his Angel, to plan to help Gabriel. The second past the second Crowley remembered it was Gabriel - "I'm asking you to help me take care of him."
Oh, I'll take care of him, alright! Crowley retained eye contact with those blue eyes, the kindness that was ever present and leaking everywhere, sometimes even into Crowley himself, but no. Not this time.
Angel sealed that deal himself by letting that little smug smile grace his face, that same smile that Gabriel himself gave just a little too often. Yes, Aziraphale was probably using it because he was hurt by Crowley's insistence on not helping, but it stung, "But if you won't, you won't."
Crowley felt himself hiss, "I won't."
He moved to the door and turned back toward the Angel. His own aggravation stung him as he glanced back at Aziraphale, hoping that his eyes showed what he was falling to say - stop this, let's just leave Gabriel be, it doesn't have to be like this - but his words said something completely different, "You're on your own with this one."
So he left, sauntering his way out of his Heaven just as he always found himself doing. The busy street he emerged onto didn't do wonders for his temper, the humans reminding him of ants as they scurried about. Scraggling around in his senses like mites infecting his mind - and oh, the anger. Crowley had been doing significantly fewer temptations in the last few years with Aziraphale - the demonic energy had been building up. Something that Crowley should have known better than to let happen.
"Just breathe. That's what humans do..." Crowley stalked away from the bookshop, feeling the bubbling rage increasing with every step, every human milling around him, every sound of a car beeping in the far-off distance, "then they count to ten before they do anything stupid."
He breathed, more like growled, and the deep breaths did nothing but cement his anger in stone. He needed to release the energy before he nuked the street, something more productive, something -
Lightening crashed into him, and he let it go. Locks all around him were switched, someone dropped their phone and it stuck to the ground, wallets of passersby were teleported to their homes - they would find it later, but not without a bit of panic - the electricity flickered around him. So Crowley calmed down, the energy released, yet he was still so painstakingly, heartbreakingly angry. How long would it take before this argument was over? Their last more significant dispute had lasted decades. The only difference now was that Crowley was alone, truly no one in his corner, left out to dry by Heaven, Hell, and now Aziraphale had all but told him to fuck off, but not without a small slice of emotional manipulation for his struggles.
He made his way to his Bentley. For a moment he allowed himself a deep breath. He took his glasses off again. When had they even gotten put back onto his face? Then he felt it again. A fucking fly.
And they were multiplying.
If this day got any worse, Crowley didn't know how he would deal with it, but heads might have to start rolling, aeons worth of secrets would have to be spilt, and copious amounts of emotional support wine would have to be drunk. Somehow those thoughts didn't stop the multiplying of the flies, he swatted them away (he hoped dearly that it hurt the physicality of Beelzebub when he struck five of them out of the air) but the apparition of Beelzebub still appeared.
"Come on! In my car? Really?" Beelzebub knew how much he liked his car.
"Hello, traitor," They spoke, and Crowley was surprised that it almost sounded genuinely pleasant. Perhaps Aziraphale's show with the holy water and making Michael summon a towel had made his fellow demon soften to him more than they would have liked? Either way, they still gathered flies in his car, and Crowley didn't stop swatting.
"Lord Beelzebub!" Crowley nearly whined.
"I suppose you're wondering why I called you here." They declared, and they were clearly getting amusement from Crowley's suffering because Crowley swore he heard them laughing, if only slightly, at his furious swatting of the flies.
And flies overtook the whole car - Crowley could feel himself being pulled down into Hell. Of course, once Heaven was up to something, Hell would come running to him to figure it out. No one knew Earth like he did - All the more reason why the Angel should have let him drop Gabriel off somewhere and just let him rot. It was too late for that now. He was already back in Hell. Before he saw it, he could feel the dark, damp air, cold and humid, then just slightly too hot, before it became cool again. Another form of torture - no one was allowed to be comfortable in Hell. If your body adapted to the cool dampness, it would make you feel so hot you could barely breathe.
At least Beelzebub had brought him to their office rather than the main floor of demons milling around.
"I thought we had a generalized understanding," Crowley mentioned as his form wholly solidified into a rather ornate, if not infernal, chair. Blinking his eyes and spitting out one of the flies that had found its way into his lungs.
He turned to look at them and raised an eyebrow - Oh, this was a visage he hadn't thought he would ever see again. Crowley blinked as if to confirm what he was seeing. Yes, Beelzebub had switched their corporation to the one that they had used to use as an angel, something most demons (Sans some of the higher level fallen like Lucifer and - ) had sworn to never do. Yet here they were, still clearly demonic, allowing parts of their true form to bleed through their teeth, but it was such an odd change from his old boss.
"We don't. You're still a traitor. I could put a price on your head any time I wanted to." They threatened, but Crowley couldn't take it seriously with their old visage and the way they weren't quite making eye contact. (It also wouldn't have mattered because Crowley was very well capable of handling whoever Hell might have sent after him anyway)
"I recognize that face Beelz." Crowley crooned out, allowing himself to soften, "What's the occasion?"
Crowley was maybe feeling a little nostalgic.
He watched as Beelzebub shrugged and looked down to the right, seemingly in thought and slightly uncomfortable, "I need a... favour."
"A favour." Crowley mentioned with a nod, "What kind of favour is that exactly?"
Beelzebub stood up abruptly, standing before Crowley. Seeing this, Crowley made the show of relaxing even farther into the seat he had appeared in, and made a show of waiting for the demon to speak their mind.
"It's of... personal nature." They spoke nearly cautiously. In their old face, Crowley could feel himself already wanting to give in and help them. Crowley had always had such a soft spot for -
"That's not exactly the angle I've come to expect from you." Crowley wondered, narrowing his eyes at them in observation. They shifted on their feet.
"I... Feel like this might be a matter that you could understand." Beelz looked into Crowley's eyes briefly before minding their attention to the demons outside the window. Whatever it was, the brat didn't seem eager to mention it outright.
Oh fuck, I've gone and done it now. Crowley realized - because that was the second time he had referred to Beelzebub internally or otherwise by a nickname. He was just as helpless as Aziraphale, wasn't he? Five seconds into a real conversation with one of his siblings, he was ready to nickname them. Crowley knew that he should honestly know better than that after the thousands of years he had spent in Hell getting betrayed by the people around him at every turn. (Or they attempted it anyway.)
"Consider me intrigued." He was, after all.
"I want Gabriel," Beelzebub demanded, their voice tinged with urgency. Crowley watched as they stomped their foot, a display of oddly childlike frustration, a rare glimpse of such behaviour he hadn't witnessed in ages.
"You find him for me, and I can, I can make you a Duke of Hell. I could..." They trailed off, seemingly realizing that Crowley would be unfazed by such offers. It was as if they finally grasped that if Crowley truly wanted that position, he could have claimed it long ago. Crowley continued to observe Beelzebub, detecting a familiar look in their eyes, one he had seen in himself over countless years.
"Oh my somebody! You're in love with his Supreme Archangelness!"