Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was having a very good day.

First of all, he had not sold his signed first edition of “A Heritage of Shadows” to that very insistent customer this morning.

Second, the bakery still had some of those delicious little chocolate cakes, even if he got there after ten and they were usually sold out before nine (and he did not at all feel guilty about the tiny miracle it may have needed).

Then, he’d read in the newspaper there was this new Da Vinci exposition opening in a few weeks. Crowley would been delighted to hear it.

He slowly walked back home, enjoying the morning’s sun on his face, the chirping of birds hunting for crumbs outside the coffee shop, and waved through the butcher’s window to salute the old man. A familiar flash of red caught his attention. Crowley was chatting with the florist outside her shop. Aziraphale smiled. The demon had blended in pretty quickly after moving in in the bookshop. He’d reached a first name basis with most of the neighbors by now, the old charmer.

This was such a nice morning.

“Hiya, angel,” greeted the demon, crossing the street to meet him on the bookshop’s doorstep, hands in his pockets and a wide grin on his face.

“Why, hello to you too, my dear. Did you fall off the couch? It isn’t even eleven in the morning, you know,” he teased.

Crowley merely chuckled. “Disappointed I’d deprive you of your morning’s silent reading? I can still take the Bentley and ride away to leave you your privacy, you know?”

The angel sighed dramatically. “Oh I am afraid I cannot have that, my dear. You are my burden to carry after all. I tremble to think of the temptations you could accomplish without my constant vigilance. I do need to keep an eye on you.”

“While eating cake,” snickered the demon, pointing at the bakery’s box.

“Why yes, Crowley. Thwarting requires an awful lot of energy,” deadpanned Aziraphale.

Both very pleased with themselves, they turned to the door.

Unfortunately, what promised to be an auspicious day turned sour the instant the angel’s fingers touched the bookshop’s door handle.

He froze. There was a demon in the shop.

Well, this wasn’t unusual, of course. Except...

“What’s wrong?” asked Crowley’s voice behind him. No need to turn to know he was frowning.

Without answering, Aziraphale grabbed the door handle and melded his spirit with the bookshop’s. How did a demon enter his home? The walls were warded.

No wards. Only feeble remains of the angelic barriers. And scattered among them, a demonic energy. Powerful and familiar…

Memories flooded his mind.

A bathtub. The screams of the tiny demon dissolving. A sham of a trial. Hands on his his wing. Adam in Hell.

“Aziraphale?” pressed Crowley, “What’s wrong?”.

The angel turned, smiling brightly while discreetly sending soothing thoughts to the bookshop. The poor dear had no reason to feel ashamed. “Oh, nothing, really, only… do you… do you remember that one time someone entered the bookshop and you foolishly rushed in and almost fought a Duke of Hell?

“T’wasn’t foolish,” grumbled Crowley, “I would have won anyway.”

“If you say so. Well… the situation isn’t very different this time...”

Crowley reached out, mentally searching the building, then recoiled.

“Beelzebub?” he murmured, shell shocked. Aziraphale’s false smile wavered.

It only lasted a tenth of a second, but Crowley saw it. The raw vulnerability, the fear in his friend’s eyes, soon swept under a metaphorical rug as the angel squared his shoulders. Crowley knew he should have felt afraid himself, or at least worried. The last thing they needed to do now was to lose their tempers, not with such a powerful enemy this close.

He wasn’t afraid, though. He was bloody furious.

He had thought everything was finally back to normal. That Hell and Heaven would leave them be now, that they were finally, finally safe.

And then the Prince of Hell had to come, break into their house, and put that expression on the angel’s face.

He knew the last shreds of his sanity were rapidly snapping one after the other. There was a roar in his ears, and he welcomed the burning anger with wide arms.

Hell had hurt Aziraphale. Hunted him on Earth and almost destroyed him, lured him into their cells and tortured him, breaking his wing.

Well not this time . If Beelzebub didn’t want to leave them alone, he would make them.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as his friend hissed loudly, scales appearing on his face, nails sharpening and turning into claws.

“Crowley! Please keep your calm, my dear! They are way too strong for us!”

The demon’s only answer was another, louder hiss, as he pushed the angel away to access to the door.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Aziraphale, unfolding his ethereal body and following his friend inside, gathering Grace as fast as he could. He could feel Crowley’s demonic energy build up. He knew better than to try and stop his demon when he was in such a state.

Beelzebub was sitting on Aziraphale’s old armchair in the back room. They looked at the strange pair in the doorway with no small amount of boredom.

“Finally. I wazz starting to fall asleep,” they greeted them.

“What are you doing here?” asked Crowley in a voice that wasn’t human anymore.

Of course his former boss would have chosen Aziraphale’s seat. They always had known how to make a lasting impression.

“I came to talk. Drop the horror show, I am not a human, Crawly. You aren’t impressing me.”

“Crowley,” corrected Aziraphale instinctively, assessing the situation.

He knew that somewhere, deep down inside of him, the vision of Beelzebub into his home was terrifying. The memories of pain, fear and despair were still there, right under the surface, but he had more pressing matters to think of right now. Like how to calm Crowley before he attacked, and how to defeat Beelzebub if it came to that.

The first one was maybe manageable. He sent a tendril of Grace in his friend’s direction, cautiously grazing the edge of his aura.

Crowley growled, ignoring him, all his attention on his former lord. “Talk? You want to talk ? After what you’ve done?”

The Lord of the Flies rolled their eyes. “No need to be so dramatic. It wazz months ago, get over it already. Your angel seemzz fine,” they declared, eyeing Aziraphale over Crowley’s shoulder.

“He’s not mine, he’s his own angel,” retorted the other, as automatically as Aziraphale had corrected his name. “And if you’re here for him I swear to Anyone I’ll-”

“Yes, yes, I got that already,” cut the Prince of Hell. “Can we cut the niceness and get to the point? I have a propozzition for you. For you two, actually.”

Aziraphale squinted his eyes. Maybe there wouldn’t be a fight, after all. This was good news.

“A proposition?” snarled Crowley, laughing darkly. “Are you fucking serious? Do you really think we will listen to you?”

The angel cleared his throat. “Actually,” he started, “I think I would be amenable to-”

“No!” hissed his friend, his head snapping to look at him. “No, you don’t!”

Aziraphale took in the terrifying fangs and claws, the skin that was fully covered in black scales by now, and the murderous aura. He pouted.

“Oh, well,” he only said primly, looking away. He fought the urge to cross his arms. He needed to keep ready to bolt if needed. “If you say so.”

“I do,” growled Crowley. “There’s nothing either of us want to hear from them.”

Beelzebub sighed. “You are very unreazonable, Crawly. I didn’t even break him. Look, he is standing besides you, ready to fight me. I should feel annoyed. I uzzually make a more lasting impression, but I am not really surprizzzed. You know it wazz nothing personal. I only needed him to lure our master’zz son.”

Aziraphale clenched his fists. “Do you really think that trying to kidnap Adam is something we would forgive that easily?”

And his name is Crowley, he added inwardly. They had to be doing it deliberately.

The Prince of Hell waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t torture him. We don’t torture children. So there izz nothing to be angry at where it concernzz him.”

Aziraphale gaped. They really believed that, he realized. He had a lot to say about abduction and psychological trauma (not that he would let one of those settle into Adam’s head), but he was too shocked to speak. It was obvious that for Beelzebub, as long as there were no lasting damages, everything was fine.

Crowley, used to Hell’s way of thinking, scoffed. “Yeah, right. Well I’m angry. And I’m retired. So if it isn’t too much trouble, I invite you to fuck off before I make you. There’s nothing for you here. No proposition, no offer, nothing. I don’t even want to talk about the bloody weather. Get. Out.”

Aziraphale regained his bearings in a blink, focusing on the petite silhouette in front of them. His first move would be to throw the nearest shelf at them. Then he would have to grab his letter opener and ignite it while Crowley-

“Very well. Send me a message through the uzzual channel if you ever change your mindzz,” declared the higher demon, walking casually to the door. “My offer still stands, Principality,” they added over their shoulder.

Crowley growled lowly at the sight of their retreating back. Not even walking backwards facing them. This was a deliberate insult. And what in Heaven did that last sentence mean?

He felt a warm hand gently taking his wrist. “Do not let them bait you, dear boy. I’d rather not fight today, please.”

Crowley tensed slightly, then nodded minutely, watching as the door closed on their visitor’s exit.

Aziraphale let go of his friend’s arm, tutted, and snapped his fingers with a frown. The box of cakes appeared on the coffee table, miraculously intact.

“What about some cake first, to cheer us up? I will make us some hot beverage later,” he declared brightly.

Shifting back to his more human corporation, Crowley carefully settled on the couch, watching his friend attentively. They would have to talk later, of course (that offer Beelzebub had talked about was worrying him). But for now, normal was the only road to follow. Aziraphale needed time to process his thoughts and emotion before a serious discussion.

The angel fidgeted for a few seconds, then squared his jaw and sat on his armchair with a resolute air. Crowley felt a rush of pride. Beelzebub had obviously chosen this place to wait them to play one of their mind tricks on the angel. But Aziraphale wouldn’t let the Lord of the Flies leave their imprint in this room. It was his chair, and no one else’s.

Stubborn bastard, thought the demon fondly.

There was something he had to say before anything else, though.

“Ah… angel?”

Blue eyes met his questioningly.

“I shouldn't have snapped at you… didn’t mean to order you around like that...”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No need to apologize, dear. You are the expert in dealing with Hell, and you know Beelzebub very well. If you think I shouldn’t listen to them, then I shan’t.”

The demon nodded curtly. “I really think it. Never bargain with them, believe me, that’s their specialty. Now, what kind of cakes did you chose today?”

Aziraphale beamed. “The little chocolate ones!”

“Really? At this hour? You naughty angel, you used a miracle, didn’t you?”

“I am certain I do not see what you are implying, Crowley.”

“Yeah, right, I believe you,” laughed the demon.

In Tadfield, a little boy sighed in relief and focused back on his friends.

“What were you saying, Brian?”

Pepper huffed loudly. “If you’re not going to take it seriously, just say it, Adam!”

“I am! Of course I’m serious!”

“All right,” interrupted Brian, not willing to let these two start an argument. “So my brother told me the old mine is here, and the entry had to be somewhere in this direction. When one of us finds it, they whistle, and we start exploring, okay? The phantom is probably not far from the entry, because there is no one to scare inside.”

“Makes sense,” approved Wensley, checking his backpack for the last time. He was the only one to have thought of water and snacks, and was worried they wouldn’t have enough to last a month if the ghost trapped them. Brian ate an awful lot.

Adam nodded. “Let’s go, then. It will be wicked.”

Chapter Text

The sound of incoming Grace had Crowley’s head snap to attention. Aziraphale, having sensed the disturbance from the kitchen, rushed down the stairs, a plate of cheese in one hand, a cup of cocoa in the other.

“Raphael!” exclaimed both entities, one in anger, the other in relief.

“The fuck have you been? You told us you were about to come to talk to us hours ago! We have a life, you know! I intended to go out tonight, and here I am, stuck here because of a stupid angelic jackass!” snarled the demon, snapping his fingers to miracle his sunglasses on his face. No way he would appear glad.

Aziraphale, not bothered by appearing cool or detached, immediately fussed over the archangel. “Oh, my dear fellow, I was so dreadfully worried! It is not like you to be so late. Are you quite all right?”

Raphael smiled tightly. “I am… fine. But I need to talk to you two.”

Crowley grimaced, sitting straighter than usual. Aziraphale put his plate and mug on the counter. “What is happening?”

The archangel looked from Crowley to Aziraphale in anguish. Then she closed her eyes. “Beelzebub is missing. They’ve disappeared.”

A long silence stretched, and when she opened her eyes again, it was to meet a shell-shocked expression on Aziraphale’s face, and a very blank stare from Crowley.

“This is ridiculous,” declared Aziraphale finally, his right hand fluttering about as if it wanted to clutch something. “They already tried that. Do they really think it will work a second time?”

“I think this time it’s the truth,” declared Raphael seriously. “Dagon sent me a letter. Asked me to listen to her. Offered to come to Heaven to talk.”

Aziraphale gasped. Crowley snarled. “Heaven? Dagon? That’s the worst bluff I ever heard.”

“She did, though. She came. That’s why I couldn’t come here sooner. I was debriefing her,” explained the Archangel with a tired shrug.

Aziraphale shot a look to his friend. Even with the sunglasses, he knew Crowley was squinting his eyes. “So you have the Lord of the Files in Heaven’s prisons?” asked the demon.

“For now, yes. Of course that cannot be indefinite. I will let her go once I made sure she is telling the truth. It may be a trap, after all.”

“No, you think?” barked Crowley with dry humor. “What does she want? Let me guess: Aziraphale to come to Hell to discuss.”

“I told you already, I think this isn’t bluff this time. And of course I would never ask any of you to enter Hell. Dagon didn’t want anything specific, only my help. I think she doesn’t know what else to do...”

“Why would you help her? Why on Earth would you even believe her?” snarled Crowley. “She kidnapped Adam once already! An innocent child, Raphael! Let her rot in jail!”

“Yes, Raphael,” declared Aziraphale calmly, looking at his hands. “Why did you listen to her? Why are you here?”

“Because a demonic seer saw Michael fight Beelzebub for their place, and Michael win. Of course it could happen tomorrow or in a very far future. That’s why Beelzebub came here, to talk to you. Is it true? Did they come?”

Crowley shrugged. “They did, we kicked them out. I don’t even know why they would come to us in the first place after everything they did.”

“Not to us,” murmured Aziraphale, frowning, eyes unfocused. “to you, Crowley. They wanted to talk to you. I think they reckoned your particular way of thinking could be of use to them.”

“What particular way of thinking?” asked the demon, incensed.

“Out of the box. Clever. Cunning,” provided the angel, still thinking furiously.

Crowley nodded, mollified. “Oh. Well, yeah... Anyway, it’s not our problem.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Raphael… I am sorry, but we… I am not sure we can be of help to you.”

The Archangel shrugged. “I expected it, and I understand. I won’t bother you any longer.”

“Will you try to find them?” asked Crowley, surprisingly gently.

“No. I cannot leave Heaven, especially if Hell is about to undergo a change of power.”

The two friends watched as Archangel disappeared in front of them without another word.

“Well, that sucked,” declared Crowley, sending his sunglasses clattering on the table. He hated his former boss and couldn’t care less if they lived or died, not after what they had done to Aziraphale, but it was sad to see Raphael in this state. Even after all this time, the Archangel cared about Beelzebub. They had been very close as angels. They did everything together. Except, of course, Fall. Beelzebub had never forgiven their sister for refusing to follow.

Aziraphale didn’t answer, looking out the window.

“Don’t think about it, angel,” warned the demon. “Don’t you fucking put it into your head to help again. It’s not our business.”

“Isn’t it, though?” murmured his friend.

Crowley growled. “What the fuck are you doing, Aziraphale? After everything that already happened? You can’t be serious! Don’t tell me you’re considering it. I know Raphael’s your friend, but even she understands that we don’t want to help!”

“I know, my dear. You are right, of course. I will not help Raphael, nor Beelzebub.”

Crowley frowned. He knew that tone of voice. It wasn’t the “you were right” one. It was the “I am going to try to change your mind” one.

Aziraphale turned to face him, and the demon recoiled instantly. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear you. Whatever it is, the answer’s no. You hear me?”

“Crowley. Please listen to me. I promise you I will only say it once. If you do not agree, I will never talk about it again. But I have to explain why I think we should consider taking a part in this.”

“No,” hissed Crowley, eyes completely yellow.

“I will never mention it again, I swear...”

“I said no! I don’t want you to make promises you won’t keep, Aziraphale.”

The angel looked hurt, which was never a good thing to see. “But my dear, I intend to honor that promise.”

“Then that’s even worse. I don’t want you to promise to shut up. If I don’t agree with you, I’ll say it. And you’ll do the same. That’s how it always had worked. There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind anyway, so do your worst, I’m all ears.”

Aziraphale blushed slightly, then smiled. “Oh. Oh, I… I guess I was a little silly. It is just that... I know you do not want to think about helping Beelzebub after...”

“After they tortured you? Yeah, good guess. To be honest I thought it would put kind of a damper on it for both of us. So, why are you thinking about it?”

“Because, my dear, Beelzebub wasn’t happy,” answered the angel seriously.

Crowley blinked, and sat straight. “Whot?”

“They weren’t enjoying themselves as they tortured me. It was purely… professional. Not to revel in my pain, not solely to make me suffer. They had a goal. And it was the same at your trial.”

“My trial? What the fuck was the same at my trial?” Crowley was feeling completely lost.

“They weren’t particularly happy to sentence you to death. More bored. They wanted to make an example, that was obvious, but again, there was no pleasure in killing you. They were cold, detached.”

“They’re always cold, angel. That’s not a quality. Certainly not worth saving anyone, detachment.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “Yes. But Michael was.”

Crowley blinked again. Then grimaced to convey how little sense this entire conversation was making to him.

The angel fidgeted with the chain of his pocket watch. “She was happy, Crowley. When she delivered that Holy Water… she was so gleeful. You should have seen her face. She was delighted, watching me… watching you, as she poured the means to your destruction into that bathtub. And she took her time, she relished every second of it. Michael takes pleasure in watching others suffer.”

Crowley waited, but apparently that was it. That was the big speech. Nothing really mind-blowing, if you asked him. Archangels always had been wankers, after all, even if Raphael was a little more okay than the others.

“So?” he finally asked.

“So,” answered Aziraphale, frowning slightly, “Do you really want Michael to rule over Hell? Do you want her to be in charge? Or the cold, logical Lord that will never be driven by their emotions? Beelzebub has always been the only one to understand your schemes. They knew how clever your way was. They can be reasoned with.”

Crowley knew he should answer something as soon as possible. Something like “Why do you want to reason with them? We’re out of the game, you and I! We’re on our own side!”. But the truth was… the truth was Aziraphale had a point. A fucking big point, at that.

They were on Humanity’s side, and Humanity could very well do without a bloody psychopath in the lead Down Below.

“Shit,” he murmured, disgusted. Aziraphale addressed him a sad little smile, and that was kind of heartbreaking.

Why was retirement giving him the feeling he’d never worked so hard before?

For a moment, both of them just eyed each other in desolation, then the Principality grimaced as something sharp stabbed his ankle, and he looked down apologetically at the little mouse sitting on his left foot, reaching out to retrieve the plate of cheese. “So sorry, Algernon, dearest. Here is your treat.”

“Don’t feed it if it bites you, Aziraphale!” growled Crowley, feeling his heart lighten a little at the stupid show.

“But he was hungry, my dear! I am a little snippy myself when feeling peckish.”

Crowley huffed. “Yeah, try biting me next time you want me to drive you to your favorite sushi place, see how it goes.”

Aziraphale put the plate down, then looked at his friend questioningly.

Crowley sighed in surrender. “Yeah… call Raphael. But tell her she’ll owe us big time!”

“Oh, she won’t be the only one to owe us this time,” murmured the angel, wondering what kind of non-aggression contract he could have the Prince of Hell sign once they help secure their throne.

“I’ll be the one writing it,” declared Crowley, as if reading his mind.

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.

Chapter Text

“When exactly did you intend to tell me you still knew where Eden is?” asked Crowley in a clipped voice. He was trying not to sound accusing or hurt. If the expression on Aziraphale’s face was any indication, he was making a poor job of it.

“I...” started the angel, looking away, “I didn’t know I was the only one, at first. I realized it after Gabriel let out something about the Garden being hidden during a yearly meeting. Until then, I thought the Archangels at least still knew where it stood exactly. Like… like I did. Of course I had been warned that Eden would be out of reach for humans, but I didn’t understand I was the only one to remember its location until way later.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “You mean you… always knew? Just like that?”

“Yes, I always did. I am the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, after all. It is still one of my duties as a Principality,” explained Aziraphale with a little apologetic shrug. “The others had renounced their function and chosen to go back to Heaven, so there was only me left to protect it.”

Crowley wasn’t taking any shruggy apology. He had questions, lots of them, but one was more pressing than the others. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Aziraphale heaved a frustrated sigh, hands flailing in the air. “Because… it wasn’t my secret to share! And I didn’t know you that well at first! And… and the Almighty had erased the Archangel’s memory too! If I had to keep it secret from them, from my direct leaders, how could I share it with...” he trailed off, flustered and uncomfortable.

“With a demon?” snarled Crowley angrily.

“Yes, with a demon! Specially with the demon that already had pushed humans to mess with Eden in the first place!” yelled Aziraphale, knowing that he was going too far, but unable to stop himself, like every time he felt cornered.

Crowley made a face, and it was difficult for the angel to read it for once. It could have been hurt, disgust, or even contempt. He certainly didn’t know which one was the worst. With a snap, the demon manifested his sunglasses and put them on, schooling his features.

“Okay. Right. Perfect. I see, no trusting the demon.”

“Crowley,” huffed Aziraphale, “don’t be like this!”

“Oh, because I’m overreacting, right? I’m being ssilly, issn’t it?” hissed the demon menacingly.

“Yes, you are!” erupted his friend, wishing he could just stop talking, but absolutely unable to do it. “You are being ridiculous! I can’t tell you every secret I know!”

“Because there’s other ones?” asked Crowley in a mocking voice. “Satan below, angel, I have to say I’m impressed. I always thought you were a crappy liar but apparently you’re a very good one!”

“I didn’t lie!” wailed the angel. “I never lied about it! I just… didn’t say it!”

Crowley laughed dryly. “Yes, tell yourself it’s different.”

“I told you now! I told you my bloody secret, didn’t I?”

“Because I forced you to!”

Finally, Aziraphale managed to keep his mouth shut. There were lots of words waiting to get out, hurtful words, that adrenaline, anger and fear were trying to have him throw like so many smoke bombs. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around to get to the stairs.

Crowley didn’t follow him.

The demon stared into nothingness for a while, his anger receding bit by bit. He hadn’t felt like this since Armageddon, and he didn’t like the feeling one bit. Betrayal. That was the one. Even though Aziraphale had had more than good reasons to push him away at the bandstand, this time there was no excuse.

Right?

So yes, he’d lied to the Archangels too. But they were wankers, couldn’t be trusted one bit… he could trust Crowley. He should have known better. Right?

He looked at the stairs. Huffed angrily. He would not feel guilty. Not this time. And he wouldn’t try to see things through the angel’s eyes, because there would be nothing to see.

Like… like if Crowley had been the only one to remember Eden’s location, he would have told his friend. Because they had no secrets for each other.

It wasn’t my secret to share.

Well, okay, then it was God’s secret. Okay. But still, didn’t mean he couldn’t share it with someone he trusted. Even if…

Even if he did hide it from his superiors. Couldn’t have been easy at the time, Crowley was certain of that. But it was different . God obviously didn’t want them to know, since She’d erased their memories. It was kind of a direct order not to tell anyone…

Bless it all , that was it. God had made the Archangels forget, so Aziraphale never told them, because had She wanted them to know, She wouldn’t have made them forget in the first place. And She’d erased Crowley’s memories too, putting Aziraphale in an untenable position.

What a wanker .

Crowley glared at the ceiling, and thought for a second to add a rude gesture, but thought twice about it. Then realized She would know he'd wanted to do it anyway.

In for a penny...

After a lot of silent insults and hand gestures that would have made a 14 AD Roman charioteer blush, he aimed for the stairs, muttering under his breath.

There were a lot of things Crowley didn't want to let go. A grudge, for example, was something he held on to like a bulldog. Apologizing was NOT something he did. It wasn't exactly like pulling a teeth, more than ripping an arm off. He'd only done it a handful of times in his existence, and always to the same person. Even if he knew he was wrong (which NEVER happened, because he was ALWAYS right, thank you very much) he wouldn't say it. Offer a box of chocolate and leave it on the coffee table to be found, maybe... if it was really important.

But this time, the situation was exceptional. Aziraphale didn't have any other choice. He had to chose between his loyalty to God and... well, and a minor lie to a friend. Let's face it, that lie wasn't really important. It didn't even concern Crowley.

And even if the demon was all for disobedience and asking questions, and was generally ready to do his utmost to annoy the Almighty, he didn't want Aziraphale to follow suit. The angel had faith. It being misplaced was something Crowley didn't want to really discuss (or even think about).

His friend was an angel . Best of them all, even, and should stay one for all eternity.

The demon barged in the kitchen, making Aziraphale startle and spill his tea on his cuff. The angel hissed in pain.

“You were right,” declared Crowley, taking the winged mug from his friend's hand and slamming it on the counter.

“I...” spluttered Aziraphale, confused, watching in surprise as the demon grabbed his sleeve roughly to hold his arm up. “What?”

“You were right, okay?” snarled Crowley, rolling his eyes. “Not telling. Right decision. Don't let it go to your head.”

He puffed angrily at the cuff, miracling tea and burns away.

The angel blinked owlishly. “I... beg your pardon? Are you telling me that you, Crowley , think that you were wrong ?”

The demon growled. “I didn't say that!”

They stared at each other for a while, before Crowley sighed in surrender. “Okay, okay. I was wrong. Absolutely wrong. As far as I'm concerned, if you have to hide the truth from me or lie to me because She wants you to, just do it. In fact, it's an order . I don't want to know. Don't even think about the pros and cons. You've got my blessing. Cursing. Whatever.”

The angel bit his lip and gulped heavily. Crowley frowned. “You're not going to cry, I hope?”

Aziraphale shook his head frantically, looking both incredibly overwhelmed and awfully fond.

“Good. Let's drink something,” grumbled the demon, straightening his back and shoving his hands in his pockets, adopting the universal body language equivalent of this conversation never happened.

“Oh,” breathed Aziraphale, trying and failing to school his features into seriousness. “I really don't know if it would be very wise... we have so much to do. How can we contact Beelzebub, for a start? They will never find Eden without us.”

Crowley tilted his head. “Soooo... we're still going to help, then?”

“Why, yes, of course. The stakes are rather high. We could certainly not let the Them or Newt and Anathema's baby grow up in a world where Michael reigns over Hell.”

“Technically, Satan is the reigning one. Not really pulling his weight, I grant you, but still...”

The angel huffed. “Oh, please . You and I both know that he and Michael would either tear each other apart or unite to make the world twice as miserable as it can be. She must not grab the tiniest amount of power. She would be way too happy to use it to... to tempt people, or force innocent... I mean, awful demons to bathe in Holy Water.”

Crowley bit his lip to prevent a laugh. Oh, his angel knew how to hold a grudge, that was for sure.

“I think getting hold of Beelzebub won't be that difficult, angel. They said they would receive a message if I was the one to send it.”

“Excellent. Let us do it, dear boy. But first… would it be possible for me to borrow your phone? I have to call that nice man from the delivery company. I need to retrieve something.”

Chapter Text

“Of course it's still in the middle of a desert,” complained Crowley, circling Aziraphale for what seemed (at least to the angel) the hundredth time. “She could have hidden it anywhere, but noooo, it had to be in a desert, because it's so original!”

“Why ever are you complaining?” huffed the angel, starting to feel dizzy. “You love heat. If the location is uncomfortable to someone, it certainly isn't you. Crowley can you please stop walking for a minute? You are making me nervous.”

“Nervous? Nervous? Are you serious, Aziraphale? We are waiting for an Archdemon! The one who tried to kill me, and who tortured you! They're stronger than both of us together. Why would you be nervous, I wonder!”

The angel rolled his eyes. “They need us. And they didn't attack us in the bookshop. What good will it do them to fight us now that we are willing to help?”

For fun, wanted to answer Crowley . To see us suffer. To get revenge for Armageddon.

But it wasn't like Beelzebub, he knew it. They weren't the type to hold a grudge or to take pleasure in other's suffering. They were way too smart for that.

Grumbling something unintelligible, the demon started another circle. A chill stopped him in his tracks. In a burst of occult energy, Beelzebub appeared before Aziraphale, less than a foot from him.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets, noticing with pride that the angel hadn't so much as blinked.

Take that, you wanker, he thought, grinning at his former boss, before deliberately circling his friend again, forcing the Prince of Hell to step back, wide eyed.

Frowning, Aziraphale considered Beelzebub’s shocked expression. It was obvious to him than Crowley’s last motion was a statement of a sort, and had hit home pretty hard. He’d known for a long time that Crowley’s circling habit came from a demonic instinct. An old conversation replayed in his mind.

“T’s like a cat. You know? When they rub their back on your leg to mark you.”

“Oh, that’s great. I feel so happy you are marking me like an old tree.”

“T’s not like... Okay, that’s a little like that. ‘m a demon! It’s not conscious! ‘T just feels like you’re mine, so I do it!”

There was more to it this time, the angel could sense it. Aziraphale didn’t like to feel used.

“What is happening here, exactly?” he asked acidly.

Crowley grimaced. he’d known his friend wouldn’t like his little demonstration, but it was the only way to make Beelzebub understand something important. The Prince of Hell was very good at turning friends against one another. It was one of their strongest assets.

“You let him,” observed the Archdemon. “You let Crowley walk behind you. You didn’t uzze one of your ethereal eyezz.”

“Why would I?” wondered Aziraphale, still frowning. “It’s Crowley.”

“You trust him,” realized Beelzebub.

The angel huffed in exasperation. “I thought that it was pretty obvious by now!”

“No. You trust him with your life. He could have stabbed you. You didn’t even tense. You let him out of your sight and near enough to hurt you, and you didn’t even think about it.”

Aziraphale shook his head slowly and heaved a deep sigh. “Good Lord, Hell really is an awful place. Is trust that rare Down There?”

The Prince of Hell raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t try to fool me, Principality. You still are a warrior. I refuze to believe you would let anyone else do this as eazzily.” They turned to Crowley. “You made your point. I won’t try to manipulate him into betraying you. It would obviously be a waste of time. Now, that letter mentioned the Gate to Eden? And you have a map to it, Principality?”

“My name is Aziraphale. Yes, I… found Eden’s coordinates. I am the only one who can lead you there, so I advise you to heed my words. Now follow me, and stay in my tracks. There is only one path to follow or you will end up lost.”

He started to walk, sand shuffling around his feet, then stopped to turn and glare at the Prince. “Oh, and if you so much as try to divide us, I will discorporate you in the most painful way.”

Both demons watched the Principality resume his pace.

Beelzebub nodded with a little smirk. This was scary, thought Crowley, who had never seen his ex boss’ smile before.

“I understand you,” declared the Lord of the Flies, starting to walk. “He izz quite interesting for an angel.”

No he’s not! Don’t get interested in him! Get your own bloody angel! Screamed Crowley internally, following Beelzebub with a scowl.

An Archdemon taking interest in Aziraphale was not on his wish list.

It took two hours of silent wandering before something happened.

Not the pleasant kind of something.

In Crowley’s defense, it was not entirely his fault.

It wasn’t every day that you found a dagger in a desert. Spotless, shiny, not even rusty or anything, like it had been dropped there only minutes ago. Beelzebub, seeing it, took a step towards it out of pure demonic curiosity.

Crowley had been watching them like a hawk. Seeing his former boss head towards a weapon activated some kind of Pavlovian reaction. He pounced, and grabbed the dagger before Beelzebub could touch it.

Unfortunately, he was a little too eager on getting there first, and didn’t really take care as to where he was putting his hand.

His thumb pressed on the sharp side of the blade. There was a flash of light.

Crowley fell to the ground.

One second later, Beelzebub landed next to him, a flaming sword an inch from their throat.

“What did you do to him?” yelled a voice all around them.

Slowly, the Archdemon opened their hands in surrender. “Nothing. He only touched that thing. I didn’t hurt him.”

The sword hovered a few seconds more, then disappeared into thin air.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Aziraphale anxiously, reaching out for his friend. “Crowley? Do you hear me?”

“I doubt it,” provided Beelzebub, getting on their feet, absolutely unfazed. “Judging by its reaction, it’s a highly blessed blade. It’s a miracle he didn’t discorporate on the spot.”

They watched as the angel shook his friend’s shoulder in hope of a reaction, then reached out to touch the dagger.

“Oh, no no no… this is not good. Crowley, you have to wake up!” urged Aziraphale.

Beelzebub shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. Look at hizzz essence, he’z slipping away. Going to discorporate.”

“No! We have to stop it! We can’t let that happen!” cried the angel, frantically looking around in search of something useful.

The Archdemon sighed. “I imagine it would be uzzeless to try and convince you to leave him here?”

A scathing glare was their only answer. They rolled their eyes. “You could hurry it up. Slit hiz throat. It would be a mercy, hizz corporation won’t last anyway. Then we could finish our little outing, and I’ll give him another corporation when I’m back to Hell. You have my word. Deal?”

Aziraphale gaped at them for long seconds.

“No! No deal at all! Are you insane? Crowley isn’t welcome in Hell, he would be destroyed on the spot!”

Beelzebub let out a thoughtful hum. “Don’t think so. They’re all terrified of him since hizzz little public bath. He should survive.”

“Michael is there. Do you really think she would let him live?”

The demon shrugged. “It’s not like you have a choice anyway. Look, let’s leave him here. He can maybe hold on long enough for us to find the apple and come back. Then I’ll be back in power and I’ll make sure he comezz back unscathed. That’s the best option for both of you.”

“Leave him to discorporate alone in the desert?” cried Aziraphale. “Not on my life!”

The Prince of Hell rolled their eyes. Such dramatics. They understood, though. Crowley’s corporation was weakening very fast, and he wouldn’t hold on more than a few minutes. Unless he found a spot to hide once back into Hell, the demon was doomed. Not that they cared, but they had the feeling this fussy Principality wouldn’t be eager to help if it happened.

“Did you try healing him?” they asked, idly wondering if they would be able to get to Eden on their own. It couldn’t be that far away now.

“Of course I did!” snapped the angel with such aggressive sarcasm Beelzebub had to prevent another pleased smile. “It’s no use. The blade is powerful. I can only stitch his essence, his corporation is too heavily wounded to last.”

Indeed, Crowley looked positively gray. It suited his usual aesthetic, in Beelzebub’s opinion.

“We have to do something!” wailed Aziraphale. He suddenly gasped, and closed his eyes. The Prince of Hell frowned. What was that angel doing this time?

The answer came to them in a rush of Grace. Praying, that’s what. And he’d been heard.

“What is happening? Is someone hurt?” asked Raphael as soon as she materialized.

She took in her surroundings, squinted her eyes as they land on Beelzebub, who stared back, arms crossed, then she gasped at the sight of Crowley on the ground, cradled in Aziraphale’s arms. Immediately, she reached out, preparing healing Grace.

“Don’t touch him!” roared Aziraphale in reflex, before biting his lip and tuning his voice down. “You cannot help him. He is going to discorporate, we need a body this instant!”

“A… a body? I don’t have any demonic corporation under hand!” answered Raphael instantly, taking a step back.

“Come now, you perfectly know a corporation is neutral, I need you to bring one here, now!” barked Aziraphale.

Raphael took one more look at Crowley, then grimaced. “Aziraphale, as badly as I want to help you, I cannot give you one of Heaven’s corporations to host a demon. It is… well, it would be a heresy!”

Aziraphale carefully laid Crowley on the ground, brushed his trousers off, and then moved lightning fast to Beelzebub’s side, blessed dagger in hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked the Archdemon, amused. The point of the dagger pressed lightly to their neck.

Raphael inhaled sharply.

Aziraphale looked her in the eyes. “You know Crowley discorporating is as dangerous to him right now as it would be to Beelzebub. So, either you’re bringing me a corporation this instant, or you’ll have to bring two. Unless you’re ready to let your twin discorporate.”

“You wouldn’t,” protested the Archangel.

“Watch me,” snapped Aziraphale.

Raphael looked stunned. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and disappeared in a blink.

“She izz refuzing to help,” commented Beelzebub with apparent indifference.

"No she isn’t,” hissed Aziraphale through gritted teeth before letting them go. “She will come back soon. Hang on just a few moments more, my dear,” he murmured to his friend, sitting on the ground to put a hand on his forehead.

Beelzebub smiled. “That was a Heaven of a show, just now. You would have done, it, wouldn’t you?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer. They chuckled. “You, little Principality, are very interesting. I can’t wait to get more acquainted to you.”

“I assure you the feeling is unilateral,” mumbled the angel, slapping Crowley’s face gently. “Come on, dear, you have to wake up. I need a little help here, you have to be conscious!”

The demon moaned, and Aziraphale gasped, resuming his slapping, a lot more sharply than before.

A hand tried shakily to push the angel away. “Mmmmn whotyoudoin’?”

“Stay with me, Crowley! Do not close your eyes!!”

Crowley’s eyes, which had been closed so far, slowly opened. It didn’t seem to make a huge difference. The demon blinked slowly, unfocused.

“Hangover,” he blurted.

“I wish you were right, dear boy, but it isn’t. You are discorporating. Hang on a few more minutes, please. You are going to get a new body.”

“whoot?” mumbled the demon.

“A corporation! You have to change!”

“Don’t wanna,” grumbled Crowley, managing a weak pout.

“Well maybe you should have kept your stupid hands away from that stupid knife!” yelled Aziraphale, who had the feeling he was one inch away from losing his sanity.

His head snapped up at an angelic rush of Grace.

He looked. Blinked.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Raphael shot him a dirty look. “That’s all I have to spare. Don’t complain if it isn’t an exact fit,” she barked before ascending back, leaving the corporation on the sand.

“This is beginning to get interesting,” declared Beelzebub, pushing the empty body with the tip of their shoe.

“Crowley wouldn’t want to be caught dead in… in this!” moaned the angel.

“If you wait a few more minutes, he wont be,” chuckled Beelzebub.

“Oh, dear Lord,” sighed the angel, dragging a half-conscious Crowley to where the corporation laid. “Dear, you have to listen to me. There is a new corporation here for you. You have to get in it quickly. Do you hear me?”

The answer was only a bunch of hissing, but Aziraphale seemed to take that as agreement. He carefully put Crowley’s hand on the body’s temple.

“Perfect. Now… slither away, my dear. Come on, hurry up please.”

As he felt the familiar occult essence transfer into its new corporation, Aziraphale felt his terror recede bit by bit, replaced with an overwhelming relief.

And a heavy dose of anxiousness.

Oh, he will not be happy at all, thought the angel as the purple eyes finally opened.

Chapter Text

“Angel?” mumbled Crowley, clumsily trying to sit.

His friend’s hand immediately helped him up. “Careful, dear. It is a new body, you will need to get used to it.”

The demon blinked slowly, looking at Aziraphale. Thousands of years tend to help you decipher the tiniest flicker of emotion on a familiar face. The angel was relieved, that one was easy to spot. But there was something else, something he was trying to conceal under a wooden expression.

Crowley wasn’t fooled for one second. “Why are you smiling? What is happening?”

“Smiling?” asked Aziraphale innocently. “I am most certainly not smiling. You almost died!”

Purple eyes squinted in suspicion. “You’re trying not to laugh. What is so funny? What happened?”

The angel shook his head frantically, lips shut tight to stop the laughter. Beelzebub grinned at their former employee. “You’re very pretty, Crawly.”

Crowley stilled, barely hearing Aziraphale’s annoyed “It’s Crowley.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon conjured a mirror. His friend grimaced, hands moving as if to snatch the object from his grasp. “Really, dear boy, I think you shouldn’t…”

Taking a deep breath, Crowley looked at his reflection.

Silence fell. Then a voice boomed along the dunes, echoing miles around.

“What the FUCK? Gabriel? I look like Archangel fucking GABRIEL?”

“Crowley! Stop this! Stop this instant!”

“Get me out of it!! Get me out!” Crowley yelled hysterically, in the tone of voice an arachnophobic person would use if a tarantula had dropped on their head.

“You are being ridiculous! Leave that corporation alone, it’s not serviceable!”

“I’m not staying inside this!”

Beelzebub, calmly standing a few feet away, watched with interest as Crowley’s occult body tried to get back into his old “dead” corporation. It was like looking at a man hopping on one foot while trying to put on jeans two sizes too small.

Aziraphale let go of his friend’s shoulders, huffed in exasperation, and unfolded his own ethereal being.

“I swear to God, if you do not stop this instant, I will come out and make you, you over-dramatic noodle!”

Beelzebub really hoped it would come to that. Seeing these two wrestle over something so ridiculous would be awfully entertaining, even if they had the feeling this particular fight would look more like twelve year olds’ pinching, biting and pulling hair than a more serious, demonic, deadly battle.

Unfortunately, Crowley seemed to come back to his senses. He let go of his useless, lanky ex-corporation, and looked at the angel forlornly. “Why? Why did it have to be Gabriel?”

“There wasn’t anything else available, my dear. It is only a corporation, do not think about Gabriel. You inhabiting it makes it look completely different.”

Crowley pouted. “Yeah, right.”

“I assure you this is the truth. You wear it much better, in my opinion,” assured the angel.

The demon shrugged casually, trying not to preen. “Well, that’s not really difficult. I for one don’t have a broomstick stuck up my-”

“Yes,” interrupted the angel hurriedly. “Jolly good, then. Everything is settled! Why don’t we… carry on, hmm? Time is of the essence, is it not?”

Crowley watched as his friend buried his old body with a snap of his fingers before heading away in long, hurried strides.

He squinted his eyes again, his disgust and annoyance at his new form forgotten. Something was… odd. Aziraphale was nervous. He had been since they came here, in this desert.

No. He had been since entering Eden had been mentioned for the first time. It could have been because of his secret, of course. That’s what Crowley had assumed at first.

But now that his friend’s secret was in the open, at least between them, he seemed even more tense. What was making his angel so jumpy?

There was no way they could talk now, not with a freaking Archdemon nearby. Huffing angrily, and keeping an eye on Beelzebub in front of him, Crowley started to walk, snapping a pair of sunglasses into existence. He shot a last longing look at the patch of sand covering his former corporation. He was missing it already.

Squaring his too-squared jaw and rolling his too-broad shoulders, he focused on moving those bloody, rigid legs. What was wrong with those hips?

Aziraphale was walking briskly, sand whirling around his ankles.

This is bad. This is really bad. I am bringing an Archdemon into Eden. A powerful, cunning, way-stronger-than-me Archdemon.

They could kill us both in a heartbeat.

He hated to have to lead the way. His every instinct was crying at him to stop and ask Crowley to take his place so he could watch Beelzebub.

They had tried to kill his friend. They had looked at him, and asked him to step into a tub full of Holy Water.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Crowley was feeling right now. It would be like… like him being forced to help Gabriel.

He shot a look over his shoulder. Ugh. Even if he knew it was Crowley, could recognize him instantly, the sight was still a little jarring. It had been funny at first. Difficult not to laugh at the sight of Crowley inhabiting that particular body. But it was way less amusing when he thought that it would probably have to stay… permanently.

Those purple eyes had been making him nervous for so long…

Corporation were like shoes. Custom made shoes. Gabriel’s had been meant for the Archangel, and was supposed to fit him instantly, eye color included. Crowley’s occult essence wouldn’t seep through it until several weeks, slowly turning the eyes into his yellow, serpentine ones.

All at once, his thoughts stopped. His feet followed suit. That was it.

“Angel?” asked Gabriel’s voice. “Something wrong?”

“We have arrived,” explained Aziraphale, looking around.

“I don’t see a thing,” remarked Beelzebub, yawning like they didn’t have a care in the world. Crowley knew they were doing it only to annoy him. Surprisingly, knowing it irritated him even more.

“I did not invite you yet,” answered the angel. “First, I need some… guarantee. I… well, I want you to sign a contract.”

“All right,” conceded the Archdemon, while Crowley yelled “OI! NO!”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “Not to worry, my dear. I only intend to exchange one promise against another. I will promise to let you take an apple on the Tree of Knowledge and bring it back to Hell as your trophy… and you will promise to take only that. Is that to your liking, Lord Beelzebub?”

The Lord of the Flies tilted their head, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. “Yes. Fine by me. Do you want me to sign something or just shake on it?”

They extended a hand, fingers outstretched, a sigil already shining in their palm.

Aziraphale turned to his friend, only to realize that Crowley was absolutely seething. It made his corporation look… well, look an awful lot like a constipated Gabriel. Which, considering Gabriel’s revulsion at “gross matter”, was pretty ironic.

“My dear?” asked the angel. “Shall I shake hands with Beelzebub? Is it safe, in your opinion?”

Crowley, who had been ready for an argument, blinked in surprised, caught unaware. “Uh… ngk… wh...”

Aziraphale patted his shoulder lightly. “I will certainly not enter a contract with a demon without your green light, dear boy.”

“...Oh. Good. That’s… that’s good. Mmmh… yeah, guess you can. Wording is simple enough.”

“Excellent,” chirped the angel, wiggling happily.

His clasped Beelzebub’s hand, and the tingle of a demonic oath coursed through their veins.

“You are so weird,” commented the Lord of Hell. “You didn’t even make me promise not to kill you both.”

Crowley bared his ultra white teeth, making a sound that was supposed to be a hiss but felt more like a boiling battered kettle in this strange throat.

“Oh I have no worry about that,” assured Aziraphale, flicking his wrist in the air and snapping his fingers downward.

Where only dunes had stood only a second ago, a large, imposing wall of light bricks shimmered into view.

Crowley stared, his eyes flicking to the place he and Aziraphale had had their first conversation ever.

“Welcome to Eden,” announced the angel in the overenthusiastic voice he usually reserved for his magic tricks, his hand waving through the air in a flourish.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

“How are we suppozzed to get in exzzactly?” asked Beelzebub, looking around in search of something resembling a door. Something glinted a little way away in the sand, but they ignored it. The last hours had taught them that the Holy Dagger wasn’t the only danger hiding in the desert.

“Flying wouldn’t be a good idea, in case you’re thinking about it,” murmured Crowley, remembering his first attempt at sneaking in. No visible barrier didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He’d learned that one the hard way.

“I am the only one able to grant you access, and only of my own free will” warned Aziraphale.

Crowley scoffed. “Isn’t it kind of hypocritical, since humans were kicked out in the first place precisely because of free will?”

The angel looked at him strangely. Never before had Crowley seen that expression on his friend’s face, and he didn’t like it. “What? What did I say?” grumbled the demon.

Aziraphale smiled a little nervously. “No, nothing. Just… Gabriel’s voice, calling me a hypocrite… it felt...”

Crowley scrunched up his nose. Familiar. That was the word on the tip of Aziraphale’s tongue. Ew.

Yes, better not tease or criticize his angel as long as he would be in this godforsaken corporation. It was enough of a pain in the ass to have to inhabit it, no freakin’ way he would remind his friend of all the abusive shit he had to put up with from his boss in the past.

Aziraphale straightened himself, clearing his throat. “All right. I cannot be coerced into granting passage. Does the phrasing please you better?”

Crowley pushed his sunglasses firmly up his nose. “Yes, actually. Way better.”

Beelzebub tried not to snap. Patience never had been their strongest trait, and they were used being obeyed without delay. But the angel, they reminded themselves, was not an underling. And only he could grant passage. Better not to antagonize him.

“So. Why are you waiting to let us in? Afraid I’ll break my promizze?” they asked, half hoping for a positive answer. It was always good to know someone was wary of them.

“I already told you this did not cross my mind,” answered Aziraphale, walking to the wall and pushing at a stone, which pivoted on some invisible hinges, leaving access to whatever was waiting them inside.

The Prince of Hell looked at the opening with the closest expression to greed they could muster. Finally. After 6000 years, they would realize every demon’s fantasy. They took a step forward. Aziraphale smiled.

“I may have omitted to tell you Dagon is in Heaven,” he said good naturedly. Beelzebub stopped dead.

“She was worried about your… disappearance. Asked Raphael for her help. Of course Raphael never intended to keep her prisoner. I was the one to suggest she shouldn’t let her go before we all come back safe and sound.”

Never before had Crowley seen his former boss so angry. They looked at the angel, and their eyes were way too focused on his friend’s jugular for his peace of mind.

“You...” hissed the Archdemon. “Are you threatening me?”

Aziraphale pouted. This time, it was a very familiar expression. Crowley knew it would be followed by some acidic, snarky answer.

The angel didn’t disappoint. “Oh, excuse me for being prudent, your lordship! Wouldn’t it be a little ridiculous of me to trust you without taking some precautions?”

Beelzebub gaped as the Principality stepped into the gap in the hole, entering the garden behind it. This was… this was unprecedented. Never before had anyone tried to make fun of them. They didn’t like it one bit.

“Saw that one coming” murmured Crowley smugly.

“Shut your mouth, Gabriel,” snapped the Prince of Hell, silencing their former underling effectively.

With a tilt of his head, Aziraphale invited them to step in. Crowley smiled widely and watched with eagerness as the Archdemon’s right foot touched the luxuriant, bright green grass of the Garden.

They let out a groan of pain and stepped back in haste, face squeezed tight, and sat down on the desert’s sand, both hands clasping their foot.

“What is wrong?” asked a confused Aziraphale, joining them. “Did you step on something?”

“This land is blessed!” accused the Prince of Hell. “You knew it! You knew it would hurt me!”

“Blessed?” wondered the angel, startled. “No, it isn’t. I am fairly certain I would know it.”

“It is,” confirmed Crowley, still grinning. “All of the Garden is impossible to walk on for a demon. But it accepts us under our animal forms. That’s why all the legends talk about the serpent of Eden.” He chuckled.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he fussed over his friend, ignoring Beelzebub entirely. “I didn’t know that! Oh, my poor fellow, I do hope it didn’t hurt you too much when you discovered it the first time!”

Crowley shook his head in reassurance, hands in his pockets.

“Don’t worry, angel. It started to burn while I was coming through the ground, so I shape-shifted before it got really bad.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Principality?” yelled Beelzebub, all their cool forgotten. “Your demon let me get hurt and you’re worrying about him?”

“Well, of course,” answered Aziraphale, not even looking at them. “You will obviously survive. That’s the only thing that matters, as far as I am concerned.”

Beelzebub glared at him before turning to Crowley. “You let me step in on purpozze, didn’t you?”

Crowley showed his teeth in a wide smile that looked way too much like Gabriel’s. “You broke his wing. I’m only disappointed you didn’t get both of your feet scorched.”

Beelzebub nodded with reluctant respect. “I alwayzz believed you were a little too soft to get promoted. Maybe I wazz wrong.”

Aziraphale, stepping back into Eden, let out a derisive “Ha!” which conveyed exactly how much that kind of acknowledgment was, in his opinion, way overdue.

Crowley looked down at his former boss. “Aw, if I didn't hate you with all my heart, I think I would feel grateful. Now get up, and hop in. Don't count on me to carry you. You've still got one very serviceable foot.”

Gritting their teeth, Beelzebub got up. One second later, they exploded into a cloud of flies that rushed through the passage in the wall.

Aziraphale let out a little sigh of relief. After Crowley's declaration, he had imagined the Archdemon would either take the form of a very large fly or thousands of them. This was, without contest, his favorite shape of the two.

“All right, follow me. We do not have much time.”

The angel hurried along a path that only existed in his and Crowley's memories. Behind him, the cloud of flies whirled on itself, followed by a very large (and smug) snake.

The Tree wasn't that far. It was pretty easy to spot, right in the middle of a clearing. Like Crowley (Crawly at the time) had pointed out, it was kind of a little too obvious for a forbidden tree.

The apples were, of course, perfectly ripe. Crowley stared, mind lost in bittersweet memories. This had been his first temptation, and it was both his greatest pride and regret.

The humans deserved to know the difference between right and wrong. But they had been punished for it. Being responsible for their Fall wasn’t something he relished.

“Here it is,” announced the angel in a steely voice, bringing his friend back to the present. “Take one.”

The cloud of flies seemed to condense, and turned into the shape of a hand, plucking one of the fruits.

Somehow, the air around them rippled.

“Out!” ordered Aziraphale urgently, startling both demon. “Everybody out, now!”

The hand-shaped mist of flies hurried back along the path, outdistancing both angel and snake. Crowley slid on his belly as fast as possible wondering what kind of Godly smiting was about to strike him, but stopped and turned when he realized he could hear nothing behind him.

“Angel?”

There was no sight nor sound of an angel behind him.

“AZIRAPHALE!”

An annoyed voice finally broke the silence. “Oh, for goodness' sake, keep it down! I am here.”

Aziraphale was... walking calmly, flaming sword in hand, taking his time like he had no worry in the world. Crowley squinted his eyes, raising his serpentine head a bit to see better. His friend looked like he was only taking a little walk, but the serpent could sense him spreading his aura wide, scanning several hundred feet around.“You're... what are you searching for, angel?”

“Flies,” was the only answer. The demon understood instantly. Yes, Beelzebub could send some scouts, ask one to stay here. Even with the oath they took, leaving a spy here was a step any demon would take if they had the opportunity, Crowley included.

“Did you find one?” he asked, almost certain of the answer.

“Two. I got rid of them. I do not think there are any left.”

Aziraphale seemed even more tense than before, and it was not helping Crowley get any more relaxed. He hadn't thought about it enough, he realized. He'd taken his friend's word for granted, imagined nothing would happen. Get in, take an apple, get out. Easy as pie.

But Aziraphale was obviously very concerned, and perhaps he knew something else he hadn't told. With a jolt, Crowley realized the enormity of their little adventure. Aziraphale was Eden's only guardian, and he'd let demons in. He had led them to the freakin' forbidden tree, and let them take a fruit...

It would be exactly like him, to take an awful risk, accept a certain punishment, only to help humanity survive. Crowley should have thought about it sooner. That stupid angel always had taken his duty as a Principality way too seriously.

“What'ss wrong? What is the problem, Aziraphale? Is there any danger? Are you in danger for letting usss in? What the fuck...” his alarm brusquely dimmed, leaving dismay in its wake. “What is going to happen to you? Angel, what is going to happen to you?”

Aziraphale startled, and focused on the snake looming over him in distress. His eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh. Oh! No, Crowley, I am in no danger at all, I assure you! Please, do not concern yourself.”

The snake uncoiled slightly. “Really? You ssswear?”

The angel smiled warmly, and stroked the giant head's scales. “I swear. There is no danger waiting either of us. I merely wanted Beelzebub to spend as little time here as possible. Let us get out, my dear.”

“'Kay,” mumbled Crowley, too relieved and jumpy to talk more. He slithered towards the wall, almost touching Aziraphale's ankles in his worry. Even with his friend's reassurance, he didn't want to let him out of his sight for one more second.

They both got out without even a glance back, and Aziraphale snapped the wall back in shape. Beelzebub, back in their corporation, was waiting for them, apple in hand.

“I have to admit I never thought an angel would save my ass. I guess I owe you one.”

They eyed Crowley. “I can give you one of your uzzual corporation in exchange.”

Aziraphale and Crowley scoffed at the same time. “Oh, pleeeeease!” chuckled the demon. “Don't insult us. You perfectly know a corporation isn't remotely enough to pay for that debt. I lost it while helping you. Providing a new one is only common courtesy.”

Beelzebub shrugged. “Can't blame me for trying. All right, I owe you a favor. Now lead me out of this stupid dezzert, Principality. I need to get back to Hell. And you need to ask Raphael to releazzze Dagon.”

“I will, in due time. You can transport back into Hell now. It is only arriving here that requires my presence. Once you are out of the desert, you will have no way of coming back. I hope you realize it.”

They rolled their eyes. “Yes, yes, I understood the first time. No coercion, only free will, blah blah. I am familiar with that sort of restriction, Principality. I know what it entailz. I won't lozze time in trying to take advantage of your knowledge on this.”

They closed their eyes, pouted, then sighed angrily. “In fact, I won't try to uzze you in any way from now on.”

Crowley, back into Gabriel’s corporation, got very still, not even blinking. This was something he hadn’t expected.

Aziraphale raised an amused eyebrow. “Really? Should I trust your word on it?”

“Yes, you should,” answered Beelzebub. “I may be a demon, but I wouldn’t forget such a debt. You will have nothing to fear from me in the future.”

The angel looked at his friend, expecting an eye-roll or a smirk, but Crowley looked… surprised, and incredulous.

“You are serious,” realized Aziraphale, turning back to the Prince of Hell.

“Well, yes, I am. I imagine it izzn’t easy for an angel like you to trust the word of a demon, but truth izn’t only Heaven’zz privilege. I won’t lie about something that important. Crowley can vouch for me if needed.”

The angel shook his head lightly. He had a lot to answer to that. If Armageddon had taught him something, it was that Heaven knew a lot about lies. It still hurt him to think the Archangel had tried to execute him without any witness while Hell had made a huge show of Crowley’s trial. Even if it had been a mock one, at least every demon had known what was happening. Angels, on the other hand, hadn’t been aware of Aziraphale’s planned destruction. They weren’t intended to find out.

All of his faith, all these years working for the Archangels, trying to do his best… all that never had meant anything at all to them.

He would trust Beelzebub’s word over Gabriel’s any day.

He couldn’t say any of those, though. Squaring his shoulders, he nodded to the Prince of Hell.

“I expect Crowley’s new corporation to be delivered at the bookshop in two hour’s time. Dagon will be released around the same time.”

Beelzebub nodded, and dissolved into the ground, apple firmly in hand.

Crowley slouched against Eden’s wall, hands in his pockets. “Guess they’re going to be welcomed like...”

“The messiah?” finished the angel, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Crowley scoffed, then looked at his friend with a fond smile.

“Heading back home, angel?”

Aziraphale looked at him, then back at the wall. “Not yet. There is... something else I want to do. Would it be inconvenient to you to turn back to your serpentine form again?”

“Angel, I look like Gabriel. Taking a mosquito form wouldn’t feel inconvenient right now.”

Aziraphale smiled a little nervously, and Crowley transformed back into his black, red-bellied body without another word. He had the feeling this was not the time to joke around.

As the angel snapped his fingers to open the gate in the wall again, his other hand holding his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white, Crowley knew this would not be about a trip down memory lane.

Chapter Text

Crowley followed the angel back into Eden, questions on the tip of his tongue.

They walked past the apple tree, and the demon started to feel uncomfortable. Aziraphale was still advancing with purpose, and it was a part of Eden Crowley never had explored.

“Angel. Where are we going?”

“It is true that I am the guardian of Eden,” declared Aziraphale, looking into the distance as he kept walking, “but the Tree of Knowledge is of no importance. It already fulfilled its purpose. What is there to guard about it? Knowledge is already in the heart of men, as is free will. I wouldn’t have failed in my duty if I had let Beelzebub take every apple.”

“But...” objected Crowley, unsettled. “You made them swear they would only take one.”

“I asked them to take only one apple and nothing else. Nothing else in all of Eden,” reminded the angel, reaching out to push aside a leafy branch obstructing the way. He bit his lips nervously.

“Here is the need for a guardian, Crowley. This is why Eden has been hidden away.”

Crowley slithered in, a little wary. It was another clearing, smaller, and much more secluded. In its center was a small, modest tree.

Citrus, thought the botanist part of his brain.

There was only one fruit on the little plant, and Aziraphale, joining his friend, smiled at the sight of it, shoulders sagging a little in relief, the tension finally draining from his body as he chatted nervously. “It is still untouched… of course it is. How silly of me to worry… But I had to check, you see?”

Crowley’s breath hitched, understanding dawning on him. “No way...” he breathed.

The angel grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t really tell you before...”

Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from the yellow fruit. “No fucking… Aziraphale, it’s a legend! Nobody believes in it!” erupted the demon, aware that he was freaking out, but unable to really care about it. “Hell doesn’t believe in it! Everyone is certain it’s one of those lies humans wrote in the bible to make it more interesting!”

“Yes, well...” murmured the angel, rubbing his neck.

“The Tree of Life...” mumbled the serpent, his voice incredulous. “Flames, that’s… that’s huge, angel!”

“You understand now how dangerous Beelzebub’s quest truly was. Had they found out about this...”

Crowley made a face. “Yeah, if there’s one thing humans aren’t ready for, it’s freaking eternity. Bless it… their only way to die would be to kill each other, and they’re way too good at it already.”

There wouldn’t be enough room on earth, and Crowley had seen enough in six thousand years to know that making room wouldn’t be a problem. New laws, new restrictions, new wars if needed. Or worse. Humans always were very good at finding worse.

“Beelzebub would give them immortality in a heartbeat,” he whispered.

Aziraphale nodded, then clasped his hands contentedly. “But they will never have the opportunity. I think we can go back home now. Everything is in order.”

Crowley looked around with suspicion. “And you’re sure you got all of the flies?”

“I have been very thorough,” promised Aziraphale, which was enough to calm the demon.

With a last incredulous glance, the snake crawled out of the hidden clearing. Aziraphale started to stroll at a sedate pace, all his rush forgotten, the black snake nervously slithering alongside.

“Wait a minute… are Archangels aware of its existence?”

“I know for a fact that they are not,” answered the angel casually.

“Why the fuck did you tell me then?” yelled his friend. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve just put yourself in?”

“I didn’t tell you! You came to the right conclusion on your own. I have to say it is a relief to know I am not the only one to know about it anymore.”

“But angeeeel,” wailed Crowley, hesitating between worry and irritation, “You’re not supposed to share that kind of thing!”

“Why ever not? If anything happens to me, someone has to know about it. And I trust you much more than I trust myself. God cannot punish me for being cautious.”

Course She can! She’s freakin’ ineffable, you jackass! the demon wanted to yell.

Aziraphale seemed to understand his friend’s turmoil, and he stopped to smile at him. “Everything will be fine. We did the right thing today. Hell’s power will stay in the less cruel hands, and Eden is safe. Plus, we have a very nifty spare corporation.”

Crowley spluttered, which looked even more ridiculous with his serpent’s mouth. “Wh… It’sss… Ngk! Angel, I won’t keep that thing! As soon as Beelzebub sends me a new one, this abomination is going in the trash!”

Aziraphale tutted. “Do not be ridiculous, dear. A spare corporation can be very handy. We will keep it in the attic. In case of emergency.”

“Ew! Gabriel in the attic? Haven’t you read Jane Eyre, angel? Anyway, Raphael will want it back.”

“I hardly think that Gabriel would be willing to inhabit a second-hand corporation, dear boy.”

Crowley chuckled. “That would be fun to watch.”

With a sigh, Aziraphale stopped and turned to frown at his friend. “Crowley. My dear. You almost discorporated in front of me today, and I certainly never want to relive this again, but if it ever happens, I would be glad to have a way to save you at hand. Even if it looks like the biggest egomaniac in all history.”

Crowley opened and closed his jaw silently for a few seconds. “… kay,” he finally mumbled. What else could he say? Aziraphale must have been very worried about him, and didn’t he know that feeling. A spare body would certainly have come in quite handy during Armageddon.

“Excellent!” exclaimed the angel, beaming. “Now how about we get home and open a bottle of wine? I could certainly do with a good Bordeaux.”

The serpent tilted his head. “Can we just… stay a few more minutes?”

Surprised, Aziraphale followed his eyes. The stairs leading to the top of the wall were just a few yards away.

The angel smiled fondly. “You big old softy.”

“M’not soft!”

“If you say so.”

Sitting side by side on top of Eden's wall, an angel and a demon shared a bottle of wine and old memories.

It was a nice day, thought Aziraphale,  feet dangling over the edge. All the days hadn’t been that nice, and some had been positively dreadful, but as he poured another glass for Crowley, the angel reflected that this one was one of his favorite.