Chapter Text
Crawley hadn’t meant to fall. He hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. He had just asked questions that needed asking, that no one except for Lucifer and his friends were making. But they had betrayed him in the end, too, hadn’t they? Hastur. Beelzebub. Ligur. Dukes and a Prince of Hell, and what was Crawley? Not that Crawley wanted to be anything. If ambition were his game, he would have kept his mouth shut like a good, little soldier and toed the line in Heaven. But that had never seemed right. Not this blind devotion to authority and the Divine Plan. The Ineffable Plan, as Aziraphale loved to call it. Just what the Heaven was the Ineffable Plan, anyway? Create a whole, beautiful world, put humans in it, and toy with them until Armageddon, that’s what it was. With angels on the side of Good and demons on the side of Bad. Humans had free will, so they could do whatever they wanted, but the forces of Light and Darkness would be there whispering in their ears, trying to coax them to their own side. It wasn’t in the humans’ best interest. Heaven and Hell just stored their souls when they died, made their eternities either marvelous or terrifying, depending on criteria that were sometimes clear cut, yet often as murky as a puddle of mud. The system wouldn’t have been able to be set up at all if they hadn’t rebelled.
He had objected to a dictatorial system that demanded unquestioning obedience and working with arseholes who valued their own glory above the wellbeing of anyone but themselves. They certainly didn’t care about the wellbeing of the humans to be, who were ignorant of the true workings of the universe, and therefore were never given a fair shake at all. And for this, Crawley was labeled a traitor and banished from Heaven for all eternity. But he tried to keep his chin up. Maybe it would be better now that they were away from God’s direct oversight. But all of Lucifer’s promises of free-thinking and suitable working conditions evaporated in a flash. Hell would be as democratic as Heaven. In other words, not one bit.
Questioning orders was frowned upon, and objecting outright was punished so severely that Crawley had spent an hour throwing up after witnessing the first punishment, the burning stench still searing his shaking spirit. Not only was Hell no better than Heaven, it was even worse. Humans certainly saw it that way, although they could be excused for not knowing what the angels they revered were really like. Crawley hoped that he could use his position and proximity to Lucifer to influence the nascent policy of their new dominion, but he was painfully corrected. It turned out that Lucifer’s nodding along to Crawley’s concern about the treatment of the human race was all an act to get him, a fellow Archangel, on his side. Lucifer didn’t care about humans. Nor did any of rest of the new demons, as they were now being called. Other than to be used as living pincushions, that is. Or malleable minds to toy with. All manner of horrifying tortures were invented within a manner of days when it was decreed that Hell would be taking in the bad human souls.
In the deepest despair of Crawley’s drinking binges, he wondered if any of them had any free will. After all, without the Glorious Revolution (Heaven, did that name make him gag), there wouldn’t be two sides to fight over humanity. People wouldn’t be tested the way that God wanted. It had been meant to happen. All part of the Great Plan. They were all just game pieces being moved around by an Almighty entity who wouldn’t grant them the common courtesy of acknowledging it.
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“Get up there and make some trouble.”
Lucifer may have demoted him and ignored everything that Crawley had to say after they were banished to this literal hellhole, but at all least he wasn’t a total dick. Crawley hated every second he spent in Hell and made no qualms about it, so out of the itty bitty, teeny weeny goodness in what was left of Lucifer’s shriveled heart, Lucifer sent Crawley up to the surface of the newly made planet Earth. Pestering humans was their new gig, and someone had to get that ball rolling. It might as well be the guy who liked the little critters, right? A little cruel irony there. Always par for the course for a demon. To be fair, Crawley couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that he would like humans. He hadn’t actually seen any before, as they didn’t exist before a few weeks ago. But he did come to like them. He took his time spying on them in his new, snake form while watching out for the angels that minded the garden. There was one cherub for each gate. Not that Eden actually had gates. The walls were all solid, yet they were called Angel of the Eastern Gate, Angel of the Northern Gate, etc. Probably to sound more lofty and pompous. Heaven really went in for pomposity.
The Eastern Gate chap was on Tree of Knowledge duty when Crawley decided to make his move. Later on, Crawley wished that he had a better recollection of the first time that he saw him, but how was he supposed to know that this would become the most important person in his life? All he knew at the time was that the angel was attractive, shorter than him, chubby, had short, white-blond hair, and kind eyes. His eyes made Crawley feel a twinge guilty as he took advantage of the angel being distracted by a pretty array of flowers that had just bloomed to creep out of the soil to whisper in Eve’s ear.
Eve caught so much flack for taking that apple, but how else was the human race supposed to get the ball rolling? What, generations of humanity were all going to live in that garden, stuffed in until the walls could contain no more? And what was so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil? How else was God supposed to test them if they didn’t? Wasn’t that the whole point? If they never left the garden, what were demons supposed to do? Twiddle their thumbs for 6,000 years until the Antichrist popped up and declared Game Over? No, Crawley had definitely been meant to tempt Eve into eating that apple. Which brought him back to the whole free will thing. How much of it were demons and angels allowed, if any at all?
But Crawley wasn’t making himself dizzy with existential questions about free will yet. He was wondering if he’d done the right thing, though. He was pro asking questions, after all. Asking questions was good. Great. Necessary. Of course encouraging humans to gain sufficient knowledge to know that questions needed asking, and not just stay in their gilded cage, was a good thing as far as Crawley was concerned. But his new superiors weren’t very keen on doing good, nor were they any more forgiving than Heaven. If Crawley didn’t want to be barbecued, he better tread very carefully. Or slither, as the case may be.
He hadn’t planned to interact with any of the angels in Eden. Chances were that they would try to skewer him with their flaming swords. Crawley had one of those once. He didn’t miss it. Yet he found himself gazing at the Angel of the Eastern Gate fly to the top of the wall and look out at Eve and Adam as they made their way across the vast stretch of sand. Crawley could sense his anxiety from the ground below. He had looked devastated when he saw what the humans had done and what it meant. Crawley’s guilt returned. He tried to tell it to shove off, but it didn’t work this time. He had been an angel too recently to not feel bad about making things difficult for one. Well, that depended on the angel. He would love to make Gabriel’s life difficult. Or Michael’s. But this one seemed nice. He wasn’t high up enough in the food chain to know how messed up the system really was. And he cared about the humans. The other guardians were loitering at the other end of the garden waiting to find out what would happen with the place, but not this one.
Crawley crept up the wall and slid next to him, bracing himself in case the angel made a sudden, defensive move. He sensed Crawley coming. He had to. No one would have been able to miss him, especially not an angel. Yet the angel didn’t move. He probably sensed that Crawley wasn’t a threat to him, not anymore. The damage was done. Crawley transformed into bipedal form and extended his wings. The angel turned then, doing a double-take, his apprehension increasing at the sight of him, a demon, no more than three feet away, yet he still didn’t try to attack him. Crawley spoke.
“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”
Muttered, more like. He hadn’t meant to mutter. Maybe he was a little nervous. He’d never spoken to an angel as a demon before. The rules had all shifted. There was no telling what could happen. The angel might not be outwardly reacting, but his body was tense. Any number of angels who had once been Crawley’s friends would sneer at him now. Spit at him. Revile him for daring to address them. Call him a traitor. This angel did none of those things. Instead, he laughed. A tittering, hesitant laugh, like he couldn’t believe that a demon was talking to him and he didn’t know what to do.
“Sorry,” he asked. “What was that?”
Crawley squashed a thrill of excitement before it showed in a mad grin on his face.
“I said, well that went down like a lead balloon.”
Crawley turned towards the angel, raising his voice but keeping it casual and conversational as if they were back in the Silver City and the whole Revolution business had never happened. The angel was frowning at him, so jittery that Crawley almost apologized, yet he still didn’t look remotely hostile.
“Oh,” the angel said, a trepidatious smile jerking on his face again. “Yes, it did rather.”
Crawley waited for him to accuse him of wrecking the humans’ perfect happiness, but the angel didn’t say anything else. Maybe he was too scared to. He did keep casting him fearful glances.
“Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me,” Crawley said, carrying on as if there were nothing weird about the two of them standing like this. “First offense and everything. And I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyway.”
“Well, it must be bad.”
The angel looked at him expectantly, an unspoken question wrinkling his forehead. Hang on. He wanted to know Crawley’s name.
“Crawley,” Crawley said, nodding, relieved. He hadn’t expected the angel to ask for his name.
“Crawley.” You couldn’t quite call the grimacing, little thing that appeared on the angel’s face a smile. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.”
The angel grimaced again, as if afraid that he shouldn’t be saying such things to a demon.
“Ah, they just said get up there and make some trouble.”
“Obviously. You’re a demon. It’s what you do.”
Could the angel possibly sound more judgy?
“Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a don’t touch sign. I mean, why not put it on top of a high mountain, or on the moon? Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.”
“Best not to speculate. It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand.”
Yup, the angel could get judgier. Well, that was disappointing. Unsurprising, but disappointing.
“It’s ineffable,” the angel continued, turning to him with a look that dared Crawley to object.
“The Great Plan’s ineffable?” Crawley asked.
Wasn’t that just ridiculous?
Hang on. Something was off here. Where was the angel’s sword? Crawley couldn’t see it anywhere.
“Exactly,” the angel continued. “And you can’t second guess ineffability. It is beyond understanding.”
“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”
The angel’s pompous speech came to a sudden halt as he frowned, looking very awkward all of a sudden.
“Uh…” he uttered.
“You did. It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?”
The angel gulped, wringing his hands, shoulders scrunching with tension.
“Um…”
Oh, wasn’t this just precious? The angel had gone and lost his sword.
“Lost it already, have you?”
“I gave it away,” the angel muttered under his breath.
Wait, what?!
“You what?” Crawley asked, eyes widening in shock.
“I gave it away!”
The angel met Crawley’s eyes, so distressed that if they were back in Heaven, Crawley would have asked him if he needed a hug.
“They looked so miserable,” the angel continued, miserably. “And there are vicious animals out there and she’s expecting already. So I said, here you go. Flaming sword. Don’t thank me, and don’t let the sun go down on you here. I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”
Crawley’s brain tread water for a second before he forced his tongue to function.
“You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”
The most brilliant smile brightened the angel’s face. It might as well be a ray of sunshine from Heaven by the way that it lit his face right up. An already pretty face, but now he looked beautiful.
No, he was already beautiful. Crawley just hadn’t seen him from quite this angle before. Although his nervous dithering had been kind of adorable, now that he thought of it. And giving his sword to the humans. A divine, flaming sword! Who did that?
“Oh, thank you,” the angel said, truly grateful. “It’s been bothering me.”
Crawley had been sarcastic, but he wasn’t going to correct him on his wrong impression now. Not if his comment really did make the angel feel better.
“I’ve been worrying, too,” he said instead, trying to get a hold of himself. “What if I did the right thing? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.” Crawley smiled, trying to draw another smile from the angel. “Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.”
It worked. The angel laughed, bright and carefree. A giggle welled up in Crawley’s own throat. He suddenly felt as light and as at peace as he ever had, before the war, before he returned to Heaven and Lucifer got into his head. When he was off in freshly created space, carefully crafting nebulas from the atoms up. This was what he had been hoping for since he’d climbed the wall. That an angel, any angel, but now especially this angel, would not just see him as a filthy demon, but treat him with some measure of decency.
Then a look of horror flashed across the angel’s face.
“No,” he said, startled at himself. “That wouldn’t be funny at all.”
Crawley could see his point. The forces of Heaven and Hell weren’t very keen on their minions making mistakes. Still, the angel had at least loosened up enough to see the humor of the situation for a little bit.
A loud, rumbling sound groaned through the darkening sky above. Crawley cringed and stepped toward Aziraphale.
“What’s that?” he asked, peering at the sky nervously.
“Rain,” Aziraphale said. “It’s the Almighty’s newest idea. It will provide water to the rest of the Earth. This particular type is called a thunderstorm.”
He raised his left wing and held it over Crawley, shielding him from the drops that suddenly fell down upon them. Crawley flinched, but it didn’t sting. It wasn’t holy water, thank He—Well, somebody.
“How long will it last?” Crawley asked.
“I don’t know. I hear that it’s to be a regular occurrence, so probably not long.”
Crawley peered around Aziraphale’s wing. Aziraphale’s hair was plastered to his hair, already soaked, as were his robes.
“You’re getting wet,” Crawley said.
“I know.”
“You’re shielding me while you’re getting wet.”
Aziraphale stood a little straighter, avoiding Crawley’s eyes.
“It’s the courteous thing to do.”
“Even though I’m a demon?”
The angel looked even more uncomfortable. Crawley took pity on him and cast a wide, impermeable fabric over them. Aziraphale gazed up at it and lowered his wing.
“Thank you,” he said primly, passing his hand over himself to miracle himself dry.
“You don’t mind being all chummy like this with me, do you? I thought you’d gotten over your nervousness when we laughed together, but you seem tense again.”
“I’m not tense,” the angel said, tensely. Also defensive.
“What’s your name?”
The angel hesitated for a second before replying.
“Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale dipped his head and glanced at Crawley, studying him. Crawley rocked back on his feet.
“Yeah, you’re not tense at all,” he said. “I can leave you alone if you want. I thought you were probably going to chase me off when I came up here.”
Aziraphale frowned, wringing his hands.
“I should be chasing you off, shouldn’t I?” He looked apprehensively at the sky. “I hope I don’t get into trouble.”
“I doubt it. You’re too nice and obedient to get into trouble.”
“Obedience is a virtue.” Aziraphale raised his chin with that same holier than thou expression he got while describing God’s ineffable plan. “Not that I would expect you to know that.”
“Hell is just as strict about obedience as Heaven, I’ll have you know. I could get into trouble for talking to an angel.”
“Why are you, then?”
Aziraphale’s frown was curious now. Crawley looked away down at the humans, little specks in the horizon now, running to try to find some shelter. At least Aziraphale’s flaming sword would keep them warm. Crawley hadn’t even known that about the angel when he came up here. He just wanted to talk. To hang out with an angel again. Maybe pretend that he was still one for a bit, that his eyes weren’t yellow with vertical slits cut across them, and that his wings weren’t burnt black.
Crawley shrugged.
“Bored, I guess,” he said. “There’s nothing for me to do for a while, is there? And you actually seemed concerned about what the humans were doing, not like the other angels back there complaining about their cushy assignment getting wrecked.”
“It’s your fault that it got wrecked.”
“Yeah… Sorry about that. It’s my job.”
“I can’t fault you for that.” Aziraphale frowned at himself. “Although I should. But you have to do what you’re told, same as me.”
Crawley scowled at the ground. Great, bloody good rebelling did.
“Why would you care that I’m concerned for the humans?” Aziraphale asked. “You lost them their home here, too.”
“They need to get out there in the world, not be stuck here in a gilded cage. And they need to ask questions. Everyone should ask questions.”
Aziraphale drew himself up straighter, raising his chin with an air of superiority.
“I certainly do not need to do any such thing. That’s the difference between you and me. You rebel while I know better.”
Crawley snorted.
“You know better. Right. Well, Hell is no peach, so you probably are better off. Still, I think I probably did do the humans some good in the long run. Hope the boss doesn’t hear about that.”
Bleargh. Calling Lucifer “the boss”. That was going to take some getting used to.
“If I didn’t know better,” Aziraphale said, “I’d say you sound pleased at doing good.”
Crawley really was throwing Aziraphale for a loop, wasn’t he? The poor angel looked as confused as if Crawley had shown up with an armful of flowers and a present for the humans’ coming baby.
“I was an angel until recently, you know,” Crawley said. “The change in status takes some getting used to. I’ll settle eventually. Besides, like you said.” Crawley grinned. “I rebel. That’s what I do.”
A tentative smile jerked on Aziraphale’s lips, as if he were fighting it but couldn’t help himself. He was loosening up again. Much better.
“I suppose so,” he said, sounding amused. “Is that why you’re speaking to me? Rebelling?”
A sigh rose and died in Crawley’s throat.
“I just wanted to chat with someone for a bit.”
Did that sound sad? Fuck, it did sound sad, didn’t it?
“Wouldn’t speaking to a fellow demon be more appropriate?”
“Nah, I don’t care for them much. They don’t care for me, either. Especially not Lucifer, the great lying sod. Prince of Lies. That’s what they should call him. Not Morningstar. That name’s too glorious for him now. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.”
“You know him, then?”
Aziraphale looked both impressed and terrified.
“I thought I did.”
The humans were practically over the horizon now. Soon, Aziraphale would have no more excuse to be up here.
“Do you regret rebelling?” Aziraphale asked.
Crawley frowned at him. Aziraphale regarded him pensively, curious. Hopeful. What was he hoping for? A demon was a demon. Unforgivable. No take-backs. Crawley could plea in abject remorse and still never reach Heaven in safety again. Besides, why would he want to go back to that dump?
“No,” Crawley said. “I hate Hell, don’t get me wrong. I hate the new organization. I hate having to do what I’m told, else I get tortured. If I could do it again, I would tell Lucifer to fuck off. But I would have still asked questions. Always good, questions. You should speculate every once in a while. Just to yourself if you don’t want to risk saying anything out loud. Just as a mental exercise. It’s always better to know what you’re really being asked to do.”
Aziraphale was drawing himself back again, his torso straightening as he faced forward and squared his jaw. Crawley sighed in disappointment.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t want to… Well, end up like you.”
A sardonic smile cut across Crawley’s lips.
“Fair enough.” Crawley stepped back, tucking his wings away, pain stinging in his gut. “I should probably leave before the other angels notice me.”
Guilt flashed in Aziraphale’s eyes. Interesting.
“I didn’t mean to… You don’t have to leave. Although… It would be… But my intention wasn’t to drive you off.”
“That’s alright. I really should get going. We’d both have a lot of awkward explaining if anyone caught us.”
With a last, febrile grin that Crawley didn’t feel much at all, he transformed back into a snake and slithered down the wall to the desert below. Aziraphale’s gaze burned into his back as he made his way over the scorching sand. Was he curious? Apologetic? No way to tell without turning back, but that would be too hard. Regret curdling in his stomach, Crawley sank below the surface and out of sight.