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The actual reason Crowley came to Rome in 41 was because he found out who Jesus had been.
It’d been a few years after the crucifixion, and Hell sent one of the more pleasant messengers to him with some news and updates, and they got to talking, and then she was saying: “Hell is still all abuzz about that Jesus thing, really,” and Crowley was a little confused, because sure, Jesus had been a bright young man, but not something to be talked about in Hell for this long, was he?
He expressed his confusion, and the younger demon said: “Well, you know, who he was and all that.”
“What do you mean who he was?” Crowley asked impatiently.
“You mean you don’t know?” She asked, surprised. “I’d have thought they’d let you know as soon as they found out, but then again it’s not like it has much relevance for you any more, so-”
“Explain. Now,” Crowley interrupted her, and swallowing, she did.
Crowley spent a few years just...coming to terms with it, and then he went to look for Aziraphale.
He found him all right, and was about to ask him if he knew, but when he saw his good mood, the question froze in his throat.
Because what if he didn’t?
No, who was he kidding, the angel obviously didn’t know, otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting there all cheerful, and if he didn’t know - if Heaven never told him - then Crowley just couldn’t bring himself to burst that little bubble.
So he let himself be invited to oysters instead, and promised himself he wouldn’t breathe a word.
Unfortunately, oysters were accompanied by wine - quite a lot of wine, in fact - and Crowley soon forgot all his good intentions.
Aziraphale was going on about Ineffability or something like that, and Crowley suddenly just couldn’t take it.
“Did you know?” He asked aggressively.
Aziraphale stopped talking, and blinked at him for a moment. “Did I know what?” He asked then.
“About Jesus.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale, of all things, smiled. “No, I did not. I understand no one except Gabriel did, they kept it very hush-hush. A surprise for everyone.”
“A surprise?” Crowley interrupted incredulously. “Are you bloody kidding me, angel? Do you think this is a joke? Do you think it’s funny?”
“No, of course not,” Aziraphale said primly, seeming a bit offended. “But it is a great leap for the Good and it gives me a lot of hope about the future of humans.”
Crowley stared at him. “It’s a farce, that’s what it is,” he declared. “What was the Almighty even thinking? Was that some kind of perverse masochistic thing, because I thought only humans had that?”
Aziraphale frowned. “Now really, there’s no need-”
“There’s every blessed need in the world, angel, do you realize I’ve fucking tried to tempt Him?” Crowley exploded.
Aziraphale coughed. “Well, yes, I suppose that must be a little awkward for you-”
“Offered Him all the kingdoms of the world!” Crowley scoffed. “Ha! I’m surprised He didn’t laugh in my face.”
“From what I gathered, the poor man didn’t really understand his role properly until the very end.”
That pulled Crowley up short. “Wait, so...was it like possession? Was He hiding somewhere in the background of poor Jesus’ mind, and did He come out only at the end, to get him killed?” Crowley had seen the Almighty, or what Heaven claimed was the Almighty at least, make a lot of questionable decisions, but never something quite this shady.
“Oh no, nothing like that!” Aziraphale assured him immediately. “Jesus the man had free will the whole time, as did He, and really they were only ever one person- oh, it’s impossible to explain in human language!”
“Then bless human language, just make me understand!”
Azirapahle did.
“Oh,” Crowley said. “Huh.”
There was a long silence.
“Do you think they know all this Downstairs?” Crowley asked then.
Aziraphale suddenly looked very alarmed.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell,” Crowley assured him. “Just...well, it really does seem like we’re fucked, doesn’t it? Like we can just pack it right up.”
Aziraphale patted him on the arm in a sort of vaguely comforting way. “I’m sure you’ll still be getting some souls from time to time - after all, they do keep their free will still, and there are going to be some who will reject the Almighty in spite of all He has done.”
“Hm.” Not that Crowley particularly wanted humans to go to hell - but he didn’t want them to go to Heaven either, and there weren’t really any other options.
There was another silence.
“Still, doesn’t seem quite fair though,” Crowley said at length. “I mean, that He had to do all the work.”
Aziraphale frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by that? Jesus did his share, I have just explained to you-”
Crowley waved his hand. “Oh yeah, no, I got that. I’m talking about the rest of Them. From what you showed me, it looked like it was going to be a one-time deal, no repetitions, so why was it all Him? Why didn’t She go through all that suffering, I ask you? Or Ze?”
“You know we aren’t supposed to question how the Almighty arranges matters,” Aziraphale reprimanded. “It’s Their business.”
Crowley knew that perfectly well. He also knew the very last thing a demon should be doing was worrying about Him - about any part of the Almighty, really - but he just...couldn't help it.
Heaven and all the angels therein could kiss his arse, but the Almighty, well, that was something else.
“I just wish He hadn’t had to die,” he said in a very quiet voice.
Aziraphale looked at him in surprise, and then his face softened. “You know He rose from the dead again,” he replied.
“Yeah, but...doesn’t undo what He went through, does it?”
There was no need for an answer, so instead after a while, Aziraphale said: “Ze was involved too, you know. With Mary - Jesus’ Mother, I don’t know if you remember her or if you even met her at all - and then again after He rose from the dead, Ze came to all of his old friends.”
“That’s nice,” Crowley replied, missing Zir with a fierce ache he was used to, but that cropped up a bit more obviously from time to time, “but still, no torture and death for Zir, was there? Only He had to do that.”
“Would you have preferred Them all to suffer?” Aziraphale asked pointedly.
“I just don’t understand how She could do something like that to Him,” he insisted.
Aziraphale sighed. “You know it is not like that.”
Crowley did know, really - the Almighty could hardly be said to be doing something to Themselves, after all, it was still Themselves - but it was just...well.
He had wondered, for eons, how She could have let him go, how She could have let them all go, and how She could keep doing to humans what She kept doing to them.
Now he thought about His fate, and he felt simultaneously comforted and more desperate.
Because if She could let this happen to Him, then he did not wonder She let all the others suffer...but once again, he had to ask, with even more urgency: how could She?
He babbled most of the questions out loud over the next hour or so, drunk as he was, and expected the angel to get up and leave him to his blasphemy any moment.
But Aziraphale didn’t.
Instead, he sat by Crowley the whole night through, trying to answer his wandering questions or, where he couldn’t, to offer consolation.
“You still love Them, don’t you?” The angel asked when the night was so late it was really closer to morning.
Crowley looked away, and Aziraphale pressed his hand, and expression of wonder on his face.
“I didn’t know you could,” he muttered. “I’m- I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Crowley said, hoarsely, and drank the last dregs of wine in his glass.
They sat together for a long time in silence, and Crowley was grateful for not being alone.
They never talked about that night afterwards - or at least not for thousands of years - but something was changed between them afterwards, and later, Crowley knew that it was that night he had fallen again, perhaps even more irreversibly than the first time.