Chapter Text
Aziraphale had been trying to pull himself to his feet for what felt like hours. Every bone, every muscle, every tendon in his body felt broken, torn and weak. He couldn’t open his eyes, and couldn’t move. The floor underneath him was a cold stone.
“I’m actually rather impressed.” The voice was cold and smooth “Word is your and Crawly’s rebellion is being viewed more harshly than mine.”
Aziraphale tried to respond, tried to move, tried to see where he was. What did he mean, his and Crowley’s rebellion? It had been over 7 years since they thwarted the Apocalypse, and they had mostly been keeping to themselves since then. The voice said Crawly, not Crowley, he realized in a panic. Was he in Hell? Where was Crowley?
“Heaven has cast you out, Aziraphale. And I have cast Crawly out, or rather he has rejected us and chosen to cast himself out preemptively. The decision is yours to make as to what happens to you. If you chose to stay here, you will be assigned duties, and remain indefinitely. If you choose to return to Earth, well, no one is entirely sure. Michael and I are both unable to determine exactly where that would land any of you.”
Cast out, he thought worriedly. Why now? He couldn’t imagine what actions had led to this. And Crowley was cast out of Hell? For what? He knew this partner was walking a thin line between goodness and evil, but what would happen to a fallen angel who was similarly cast out of Hell? And what did, he presumed Lucifer- given that he was talking about himself and Michael, mean by any of them? Were more of them to fall? The earthly Archangels, Jophiel?
“Where Cr...ly” he finally managed to force words out, the three syllables exhausted him.
“I do not know. Perhaps he is having the same conversation with Michael that we are having. Though that seems unlikely. Perhaps he has returned to Earth. I cannot say what I do not know. He is no longer one of ours.”
Aziraphale considered this. If Crowley fell and then rejected Hell, where did he end up? Would any fallen angel, he cringed thinking of himself as fallen, who rejected Hell end up in the same place? If there was even a chance of Crowley being there, it was a risk he was willing to take. “Back… Earth” he choked out, praying to whichever one of them would listen that he made the right choice.
He felt weightless for a moment and then collapsed once again onto a floor.
“Angel, your wings, what happened?” was the only thing he heard before losing consciousness completely.
When he came back to, Aziraphale did not know what day it was, he did not know where he was, all he knew was that there was a weight across his chest. He opened his eyes and Crowley’s familiar red waves filled his field of vision. He wrapped his arms tightly around his partner. “Thank God you’re still here, my dear boy” he said, his words a breath on Crowley’s shoulder.
“Where else would I be, Angel? I’m fallen, and I rejected Hell. There’s nowhere else to go now. I’m bound here on Earth I guess.” Crowley twisted his body so he could see Aziraphale’s face. “And I am guessing you are too.”
“You said something about my wings before. What happened to my wings?”
“Look for yourself, mine did it too.” Crowley unfurled his wings, and instead of the iridescent black and navy blue he had always known, Crowley's wings now transitioned from charcoal gray near the base, where they joined his back, to cream at the tips.
Aziraphale brought his own wings around to the front so he could look at them. The were lighter in color than Crowley's but were a single shade of bluish gray. “I suppose this is less jarring than if they went black.” He mused reaching out to touch the feathers. “It doesn't seem real. I'm just glad the pain is over.”
“I was waiting for you to wake up, so I haven't, er, tested anything yet” he waved his hand to simulate magicking something. It occured to Crowley if they were not affiliated with either Heaven or Hell that their powers might be gone. “I'm not sure I want to check.”
Aziraphale started with something simple, he summoned Crowley’s shirt from across the room. “Clearly that worked.”
Crowley summoned freshly brewed coffee and mugs. Not mugs they owned, but mugs he fashioned in his mind.
“Uh, let there be light?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly. A blue light filled the room. “Well, my dear, I believe everything is still there.”
“That’s good” Crowley said nuzzling into Aziraphale’s chest. It did not matter if they were Angel and Demon, two fallen angels, or whatever they were now, fallen from both sides and trapped in the middle, they would face it together. As he drifted off to sleep, Crowley made a mental note to call Gabriel in the morning.