Chapter Text
All humans had daemons. That was a fact of reality. Humans, who had immortal souls which could be seen outside of their body, had that soul in the form of some creature, representative of the individual. It was, considering the huge number of species of animals across the Earth, very unlikely that one human would ever meet another human who had the same daemon as them.
However, angels and demons did not have daemons. Angels and demons are immortal souls themselves, that sometimes resided in a corporation, so there was no need for daemons. Especially for demons who often had an animal which they were connected to, such as having one themselves, or, in the case of Antony J. Crowley, being able to shift into an animal. Aziraphale and Crowley, an angel and a demon who had resided on earth since the Beginning of Humanity, had never had any issues passing for human. They did not interact with humans long enough for them to be concerned about their apparently lack of daemons.
However, this was about to change. And this is where our story begins; about fifteen years before the End of Days.
Aziraphale hates being called to Heaven. It either means he is in trouble or Gabriel has some annoying new idea which Aziraphale knows will not work because he is the one who lives around humans, honestly. But it is a cold Monday morning as he is summoned back to Heaven, by note. So, he goes. Annoyed but never showing it. There, as usual are the four angels who always greet him, the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon. He wonders if they have forgotten over these long years that he, whilst remaining peacefully on earth, is a Principality. He outranks them all.
“Aziraphale!” calls Gabriel in that terribly annoying enthusiasm they have. Aziraphale is enthusiastic, but Gabriel’s joy always feels false, not infectious like it should.
“Gabriel,” he replies, inclining his head to the other angels in acknowledgement. “To what do I owe the pleasure? The summons said it was urgent.”
“Ah yes,” says Uriel, their voice rough and nasal. “There is a source of corruption in a university not far from where you reside in London. You are required to investigate it and end it.”
“But,” chips in Michael, smirking unhelpfully. “This is to be done quietly, Aziraphale. No quick little miracles. It is going to take infiltration, time spent with humans and likely posing as one. I’m sure you can do that.” Aziraphale gives a slightly strained smile.
“It is what I have been doing for a while. What is the university?”
“Oxford University,” replies Sandalphon, grinning in that way that Aziraphale hates. “We don’t know very much else, only that the corruption is bad. Possibly demonic. Or maybe just terrible humans.”
“And that’s where you come in, Aziraphale. Get rid of it. Quietly, efficiently, no frivolous miracles. We don’t want Down Below getting wind of anything,” says Gabriel sharply.
“What about daemons? All humans have one; I shall be awfully obvious without one.”
“That is your problem, not ours,” Gabriel continues, smiling in that way they have which is completely insincere. “You have your assignment. Off you go.” And with a wave, Aziraphale is dismissed and the angels walk off in the opposite direction. Aziraphale sighs, trying not to let his frustration at the unhelpful nature of Heaven show. He heads back to Earth with a pout, shuffling huffily back to his bookshop.
Aziraphale is wallowing in the confusion of what to do, how to go about this frustrating task Heaven have concocted for him when the door of the bookshop, which he is sure he locked, swings open.
“Angel?” comes an exceedingly familiar voice and Aziraphale smiles, just little. He gets up and comes around to the front of the shop.
“Crowley,” he hums happily, taking in the sight of his best friend. Crowley is dressed in all black as usual, skinny jeans and his leather jacket, with his shades covering those piercing snake eyes. “What can I do for you today?”
“Thought I’d see if I could tempt you to a spot of lunch? I was feeling rather bored.” Aziraphale pauses for just a second before nodding. Perhaps Crowley can help with this dilemma he is having concerning Passing As Human.
“Of course, dear boy. Where were you thinking?”
“We can go to that sushi place you like?” suggests the demon, shrugging ever so slightly. Aziraphale nods excitedly at that thought, hand already in his pocket to find his keys so he can lock back up after they have left.
“Oh, excellent. Shall we go along now?” Crowley nods, hiding a little smile but Aziraphale has known him far too long to be fooled by that. He really is rather glad about that.
The sushi place in question is small, family owned, and they have known Aziraphale by name for years. He and Crowley sit in a comfortable little booth and speak quietly. Well, Crowley is doing more of the talking currently, which doesn’t bother Aziraphale at all. He rather enjoys listening to Crowley’s voice. As the waitress brings over a bottle of sake for them, her hummingbird daemon perched in her hair, Aziraphale decides to speak.
“Heaven want me to go to Oxford for a while.” He watches Crowley’s eyebrows raise slightly, his head tilt in that exceptionally snake-like manner he has.
“Oxford, that’s not far. An hour or so. But they want you to stay there?”
“Yes, something about corruption in the university there, they want me to go investigate and ‘deal with it.’”
“Mind if I come along for the ride? I haven’t been to Oxford since the 1640s when Cromwell’s army marched through there,” muses Crowley, taking a long drink of the sake.
“Of course not, dear boy. It would be a nice change of scenery, I suppose. We have lived in London for a long time,” Aziraphale replies lightly, trying not show his happiness at the idea of the demon joining him for this.
“That we have. So, what does Up Top want you to do, exactly?” asks Crowley, as they both continue to make their way steadily through the sake.
“They want me to infiltrate the university and find out what is going on. I thought I could pose as a theology professor? But I’ve run into a snag.”
“And what is that?” Crowley sounds far too amused for his own good.
“Daemons,” sighs Aziraphale and Crowley’s glasses shift as his eyebrows raise.
“Oh shit, I hadn’t thought about that. You can’t very well pass as human without one.” He takes a long drink of the sake and sighs a little. “Perhaps you could get a little mouse or something and pretend it was your daemon?”
“I think the lack of ability to speak may give a normal creature away,” says the angel testily and Crowley huffs unhelpfully.
“Well, sssorry angel,” he hisses, his serpentine nature in the sound.
Then it hits Aziraphale.
“Crowley!” he exclaims. “I’ve had a great idea, but you’re not going to like it.” The demon raises one eyebrow questioningly.
“Oh really?” Crowley’s voice is flat.
“You can be my daemon. You enjoy hanging around my bookshop as a snake anyway, and all you would do is be a snake and no one would question it,” Aziraphale says, excited by the entire prospect.
Crowley looks less enthused.
“No. That’s awfully demeaning. Besides, who would believe that you, angel, with your softness and your smile, would have a snake as a daemon?” he points out sharply.
“Snakes are rather lovely creatures,” challenges Aziraphale, his cheeks reddening. “They’re affectionate and were considered good luck and gifts from the gods in Ancient Greece. Besides, I don’t care if they question that. I just need to pass as human.”
“I’m not doing it!” whines Crowley, taking a long drink. “I’ll have to hang around your boring classes all the time and, and…” Crowley tails off and Aziraphale frowns. The demon looks very conflicted and the angel takes a second to focus on the demon’s aura to see if he could sense the emotions. Mainly frustration and want but those are things which make up Crowley, but there is something which feels different. It feels like Hope. Hope is so easy for him to sense as an angel, a brilliant, bright emotion which humans had a habit of clinging to. He has never felt Hope in Crowley before.
“Please, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, his voice soft in a way which could be a little manipulative, but he needs his help and, well, he wants to spend time with the demon. Crowley gives a heavy sigh and mutters,
“I suppose I still owe you for the 60s and the holy water. Fine, fine! But you will owe me one.” He waves his hand imperiously and Aziraphale quite literally beams, his eyes crinkling up with joy.
“Thank you so much, Crowley! I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“You better,” hisses the demon but there is no venom in his voice.
Aziraphale lets his smile become fond. Oh, this certainly would be an interesting assignment from Heaven. And working on it with Crowley will be certainly a lot more enjoyable than doing anything alone.