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The plants in Crowley’s green room were the epitome of beauty. Nothing else and nobody else could ever quite possible compare, regardless of how hard they tried, how envious they got, how much money they poured into tending to their plants. Even if they had tried to sabotage Crowley’s plants, that wouldn’t have been enough. His plants were as resilient as they were strong. He had put the fear of Crowley into them, after all. They feared what might happen to them if they were anything less than the best, and he had made sure anything remotely subpar had been immediately removed and dealt with--quickly and efficiently.
Far too often, if he let himself, he wondered if his treatment of the plants were some form of projection--he had learned about that after all. He had been credited with inventing it for humans. It was a sort of self-punishment that also chipped away at the people they took it out on. If someone wronged you, make sure that you don’t trust anyone else. If someone loved you and broke your heart, don’t put yourself out there or cause that level of pain to someone else. If God kicked you out of Heaven because you weren’t good enough, didn’t grow the right way--well, make sure that the plants you kept in the wing of your house knew that they would be destroyed if they didn’t grow well.
Aziraphale had tried on multiple occasions to get him to be far kinder to the plants. He often recalled the first time he stepped into the room, the angel following behind him as they discussed their plans for dinner later that evening. Crowley had the mister in one hand, his fingers gently tugging at the leaves to check for spots and imperfections. Aziraphale had been unusually quiet behind him, and Crowley stood up to see the angel looking at an entirely different section of plants.
“Crowley,” he questioned, the weight of the demon’s name juggled gently on his tongue as he kept examining the plants. “While these are most certainly the most beautiful plants I have ever seen, they are also the only ones I have ever seen shaking without a breeze blowing through them. What have you done to them?”
Crowley shrugged and mumbled something under his breath before he turned his attention back to the fern he had been working on previously. “Nothing that they didn’t ask for, angel.”
“They’re plants. How could they have possibly asked for anything at all?” He heard the angel ask, but he certainly wasn’t going to get into the potentially deeper psychology of why he felt the need to treat his plants so “poorly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the angel lean down, his plump lips closer to one of the plants and whisper soft words he couldn’t make out. But, in the next moment, he saw the plant stop trembling in fear.
“I would prefer if you didn’t perform miracles on my plants,” Crowley growled, low. Aziraphale paid him no mind, though. He kept gently stroking the plants, miracling little flowers where there definitely shouldn’t have been and treating them with enough kindness to make Crowley’s stomach churn. But, there was hardly any stopping Aziraphale once he found a task, and Crowley knew it would take weeks to get his plants to completely respect him once more.
There was a private plant, however, that Crowley’s other plants didn’t know about and Aziraphale would certainly never be allowed to see. That delicate, beautiful rich purple plant sat on his bedside table, and had been close to him for over 6000 years. He had nursed it with such care and precision that it had blossomed little flowers throughout the years and never looked more than a day old.
It took him back to a much simpler time, back to the beginning as he slithered his way through the Garden of Eden after the temptation. Adam and Eve had been kicked out, which to be fair had not necessarily been his attention. He remembered what it was like to be kicked out of your home and thrown out into the cold, cut off from the warmth and grace of God. He really didn’t understand the need to keep the knowledge of good and evil away. To him, it was all just knowledge and should be embraced and celebrated. But, clearly stronger powers than he did not agree.
He had hid under a rock, curled up in a tight ball in case one of the archangels came and looked through the garden for the cause of all this. He was certain they would chase him out of there if they spotted him, but a day’s worth of temptations had worn him out and he needed sleep. Besides, other animals and a couple of other snakes (though they were pale white snakes) resided in the garden. It wouldn’t hurt to take a small slumber, surely.
He had woken to the sound of voices, one nervous and the other two far more demanding. The two were definitely archangels, but some of the words out of their mouth sounded more demonic, degrading even. He wasn’t certain that archangels could do such a thing, but he supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised. Look at what had happened to him and the others for a little rebellion.
His eyes slowly blinked open, and in that moment, he felt a small pain in his body. He knew that angel all too well. The bubbly, soft Aziraphale was being degraded by Gabriel and some other angel that Crowley didn’t recognize--his replacement, probably. If he thought he could get away with it, Crowley would have slithered over, fangs drawn ready to strike for the way they were speaking to him. But, it would do no good. Crowley knew Aziraphale wouldn’t remember him, and he would easily be outnumbered three to one. Better to wait it out, as much as he hated to do so.
After they had left, Crowley made his way to the top of the gate of Eden and to Aziraphale’s side. It had ended with Aziraphale shielding him with his wing from what was a light pour of Holy water to bless the ground in and around Eden. No one would be able to find it again, but it would remain intact and beautiful, the only perfect oasis the world would truly ever know, but not be able to experience. He had been so surprised that the angel so instinctively placed his wing above his head, without a single moment of hesitation. “Thankssss,” he hissed, biting his tongue for the pleasantry. He shouldn’t be thanking an angel. It was a terrible start to a lifetime, an eternity, as a demon. But, he wouldn’t still be standing without Aziraphale and he knew, somewhere deep inside him, that this one little instance wouldn’t be noticed by Hell.
“Well, you are a demon but I do suppose it would be rather cruel of me to let you get destroyed. It’s quite an ending, destruction by Holy water. I’m not sure I could stomach to see that happen to you,” he mumbled, his voice almost sounding frantic for finding a reasonable explanation for saving a demon.
“All the same,” he replied, leaning slightly closer to Aziraphale. He wondered, if somewhere deep inside the angel’s subconscious, he remembered them from before and that this was an extension of the bond they had shared before. A foolish hope, he was sure, but he couldn’t help but feel the heat from the hope filling his body all the same. As the rain finished it’s final drops, Aziraphale waited patiently until there was no question that they were in the clear. Even a few drops would certainly be enough to do the trick and would have made the last few hours completely useless. He slowly retracted his wing once he knew it was safe to do so, and smiled nervously one last time at the demon.
“Well, I must really be on my way. I am needed back at head office for a moment, and I’m sure I will start learning more about my next position or what I will do now that I no longer have to watch out for Adam and Eve.”
Crowley nodded, a sad expression in his eyes as he watched the angel go. He knew that it was probably best to get back to his own head office before anyone noticed just how long he had been gone.
He looked at the spot where the angel had been just a moment ago, longing for his company. And just before his eyes, he saw a small little plant begin to sprout from the ground. He wasn’t quite sure how it was happening, or why. But the leaves unfolded gently, in almost the shape of a triangle, three attached together. There were four different bundles, grown closely together. The soft, beautiful colors reminded him all too well of the beautiful angel who had been there only moments before. He leaned down, and tugged at it gently until it came loose from the crack in the concrete of the wall’s floor. He tucked it under his arm gently, hiding it from view but also still caring for it gently and tenderly.
And he had that plant ever since. Every fight with Aziraphale, every moment apart, every good evening that had ended too soon, Crowley had kept that plant with him and watched as it began to sprout little flowers next to it. He wasn’t actually sure if it should be able to grow any flowers, but he had never cared. It was the one plant he could never bring himself to bully, but it never needed it. Throughout the 6000 years, it grew beautiful but remained small enough to not be inconvenient. How he loved it. How he cherished it. And how he made sure that no one and nothing would ever know.