Chapter Text
“So… you are willing to help? What made you change your mind?” asked the Archangel, looking from Crowley to Aziraphale as if to be sure it wasn’t a sick joke.
“Does it really matter? We are agreeing to help you find Beelzebub, then to, ah… assure their position as Lucifer’s right hand. But nothing more,” finished Aziraphale with a stern frown.
Raphael blinked, and Crowley pressed his lips tightly to repress a laugh. Nothing more. Like they only agreed to take the dog out for a walk.
“We will need to talk to Dagon first, obviously. Even if you questioned her already, she may have answers to some more… pointed questions,” pursued the angel, ignoring his friend’s grimace.
“I can let you talk to her, Aziraphale, but…” Raphael trailed off, looking at the demon. Crowley huffed, arms crossed over his chest.
“No demon in Heaven if not inside a cell, right? Well you certainly are following the rules like a good Archangel should. Wonder how long it will take you to turn into Gabriel.”
“Crowley!” chided Aziraphale. “You know it is better that way. I certainly don’t want to see you in Heaven any more than you want me to enter Hell.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows. “And still, you did it. Without telling me.”
The angel mumbled something that looked very much like a curse. “I thought,” he finally managed through gritted teeth, “that you agreed to let that subject go.”
“I forgave you for taking stupid risks and sneaking into Hell behind my back only to fall into what was the most obvious trap since the Trojan horse. Never said I wouldn’t talk about it,” answered the demon sweetly.
The angel glared at him for a while, but Crowley’s stare could have bent iron. Aziraphale sighed in exasperation and looked away. “I guess I deserved it,” he admited.
“You bet your ass you did,” grinned his friend. “So… Heaven? Alone? With all these, you know… angels who hate you? Why would I want to accompany you, I wonder…”?
“He won’t be in danger,” promised Raphael. “I will be with him. No angel would dare attack him anyway.”.
Crowley’s grin only widened. Yes, breathing Hellfire tended to put a damper on angelic desire for revenge.
“I’ll wait here, then, I guess… I have some plants that need a good scolding anyway.”
He did. The new peace lily needed to be reminded what expected her if she didn’t stop letting her leaves droop like this, and George was on the verge of death again.
Seriously, thought Crowley, alone in the bookshop, looking at the ficus dejectedly, it would have been so much easier with any other plant. A shovel, a walk in the forest, and bye bye George, you’re on your own now…
But George was special. Unfortunately.
You stupid, useless piece of garbage, I hate you and the sorry excuse for a florist shop you’re coming from, he thought as he watered the plant with a caring (fake) smile and words of praise that made him want to barf.
He should burn that freaking shop. Except he couldn’t. Tadfield was sacred, even its stupid plants shop.
Crowley looked at his phone. Fourteen minutes since Aziraphale had gone. Shit. What could he do to pass the time without digging a hole in the bookshop’s carpet?
A rustle had him drop the device. He looked up. Froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...”
One puff of water from the plant mister. Only ONE more than usual, and George was already wilting before his eyes like a young maiden dying of consumption on the eve of her long awaited wedding.
Crowley shook the pot, cursing loudly, absolutely breaking character with the grief-stricken fiance that was supposed to tenderly hold the maiden’s hand while she passed away.
“Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard! You can’t do this to me! Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ll be in if you kick the bucket?”
Oh, but George knew. Crowley was persuaded he knew. The demon snarled. One snap of his fingers, that’s all he needed to dry the soil, but noooooo, George couldn’t be treated that way! Because of course he couldn’t stand miracles. He had to be the only living being allergic to it EVER!
Crowley ran up the stairs to the kitchen, grabbed a bunch of paper napkins that had been lingering on the counter for months, and hurriedly got back to dab at the damp ficus.
“I’ll kill you, you know,” he murmured in the pathetic leaves. “I swear to Satan someday I’ll just dump you into a shredder and pretend it was an accident.”
George seemed to shiver in contempt.
Half an hour and all of the napkins later, it’s a tired and slightly frantic demon that greeted Aziraphale back.
“How did it go, angel?” he asked tonelessly, grinning like a mad man.
“Dear Lord, Crowley, what happened?” erupted his friend.
“Nothing,” mumbled the demon, before adding with a shrug. “George. George happened.”
Aziraphale made a face. “How many time will I have to tell you to bring him back to the store and exchange it?”
“He. Not it. And I can’t! The kids chose him! They put all their pocket money into him! ALL of it, Aziraphale!”
“Oh, dear boy, they wanted to thank you for saving the world with something that would please you! You are hardly enjoying that… thing’s company,” said the angel, sending a scathing glare at the plant. There was no love lost between those two. “Why don’t you swap it?”
Crowley gasped, eyes widening. “I can’t swap George! The Them will know!! Brian is very observant, angel, and Pepper…” terrifies me, was how his brain was finishing that sentence, but Crowley was a demon and had a reputation to maintain.
“Anyway. I can’t swap a sick plant and take another. It’s not done.
“Done?” repeated the angel, clearly not understanding the word.
Crowley thought. “It’s like someone wanted to exchange one of your first edition bible with… with a train station novel!”
Aziraphale shivered with dread. “How awful. I think you could do it, though. If someone can pull that particular caper unnoticed, it is you, my dear. After all, you are experienced in that area.”
“Huh?” asked the demon, trying to recall having exchanged a plant for another in the past. Nothing came to mind.
“You did exchange an Antichrist and a human baby with no one the wiser. Yourself included,” explained the angel, with that twinkle in his eyes that invariably meant to Crowley that he was being teased.
He groaned inwardly. You misplaced one baby and you could be sure you’ll never hear the end of it! Better change the subject. With a last glare in George’s direction, he followed his friend to the back room.
“So what did you learn? Did Dagon say something useful?”
“I am afraid so, my dear… apparently Hell is divided between Beelzebub and Michael. For now, the Prince of Hell is still in favor, but Michael’s notoriety is rising fast… she is very strong, and, as Dagon said, quite ruthless.”
“Not very surprised here,” reckoned Crowley with a shrug.
“This is why Beelzebub is aiming to do something to stop all this. Apparently there are some kind of… lore, or legend, in Hell? Actions that can get Beelzebub enough respect to stay uncontested as a leader?”
Crowley stayed silent, his eyes widening behind his glasses. This couldn’t be leading where he thought it was, right? Naaaah… no way. Even Beelzebub wouldn’t be this reckless.
Aziraphale, apparently taking his friend’s silence for incomprehension, explained further. “I think what Dagon was referring to was a little like some Herculean work… some impossible task that would grant Beelzebub everyone’s admiration and awe?”
“Oh, Flames,” erupted Crowley. “What are they trying to do, for goodness’ sake?”
The angel blinked in confusion. “I was rather hoping you would tell me. I never heard of any of this. Dagon only said it was related to Eden.”
Of course, thought Crowley. Of bloody course.
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow in question.
“Sin,” sighed the demon with a humorless smile. “Hell is all about Sin. Free will, right and wrong, knowledge. That’s the reason we are what we are. Why do you think I had such a great position on Earth? You getting posted here was because no other angel wanted to mingle with humans, but for me it was promotion.”
“I know that. But you are the best tempter Hell has to offer, surely it was deserved,” declared Aziraphale with such certainty Crowley had to smile fondly.
“Yeah, but that’s mainly what I did with my tempting. The Fall of human kind. That’s what started it all.”
Aziraphale could be absent-minded most of the time (mainly when he was so focused on something that he forgot everything else) but he was not stupid. He nodded distractedly. “So Beelzebub want to find the Tree of Knowledge… and bring, what? An apple as a trophy? Or the tree itself?”
“An apple will be more than enough. Eden has been hidden out of reach for 6000 years. To find it and come back with proof would be a real snub to God and Heaven. God forbid anyone to take one of these fruits, and I pushed Eve to do it. For Beelzebub to take another one now would be like giving the finger to the Almighty.”
Now that he was actively thinking about it, Crowley had to admit the idea was appealing. And fun.
The angel blanched suddenly. “Oh, but Crowley this is way too dangerous! Eden is hidden for a reason! Beelzebub will never find it on their own!”
Crowley tilted his head. Aziraphale was obviously thinking of something, and his sudden reluctance was odd. What was he hiding? “That’s why we agreed to help, right? I guess you can find some clue in all of your books, don’t you think?”
The angel’s eyes flickered to the side for a brief moment. “Help? How can I help them do… such a thing? God doesn’t want Eden to be found! No, out of the question!”
Crowley snatched his glasses off, stunned. Aziraphale wasn’t saying it was impossible. In fact he wasn’t saying a thing about Eden being out of reach. “You know! You know where Eden is!” he accused.
And the fear on his friend’s face was enough of an answer.