Chapter Text
Just because Crowley was good at being a snake did not mean he liked being a snake. It was the divine punishment, having his arms and legs taken from him to crawl the earth. Of course he had the self-created form that mimicked a human, but it was put together all wrong. His true form (not the earthly snake form that Aziraphale had deemed “cute”) but his actual true form, was a great beast of a serpent. A true demon.
At the moment he was waiting in the cramped back end of Dis, the municipal center of Hell where the commands and paperwork were sent from. The apocalypse business would (and should) have been the end of Crowley’s contact with Hell; however the unfortunate circumstance that he was still technically using his occult powers and performing dark miracles.
You can’t just have occult power for nothing. Angels draw their power for miracles from their love of the Lord. Crowley wasn’t really sure where demons drew their power from. Not love. And certainly not the Lord. The relative local authorities had decided something needed to be done about Crowley using these powers if they were not being used in direct service of Hell. He only realized later that the goal was to reduce his presence in Hell as much as possible to just make him not a nuisance.
They couldn’t kill him with holy water so the next best option was to just have him go away. Cast him out. Make sure he never needed to show up in Hell again for the rest of his life.
The problem was that meant Crowley was in a bureaucratic limbo. He was also in the form of a giant winged Hell serpent. Discorporation had that side effect.
It had been a challenge between him and Aziraphale to see who could go the longest without fucking up and getting their body killed. Crowley honestly thought he would win, given that Aziraphale did have the tendency to get discorporated in the more stupid ways. He was the first of them to get hit by a car though and he was sure the angel wouldn’t let him live that down.
At least Hell had given him a new body. They had let him have it almost immediately as soon as he started spitting venom and fire to try and impose himself on the locals just to make him stop. If he was truly good at anything it was being professionally annoying.
News that the demon that survived holy water and averted the apocalypse was just waiting in Dis waiting for some paperwork to process got around fast. And then someone, whatever little scum it was, had come up with an idea. Crowley suspected highly it was Hastur, the toad hated him for several (reasonably good) reasons and despite how stupid he had a tendency to come off as, a toad does not become a Duke of Hell for being a moron.
Hastur was good at things. Mainly making people miserable and being a major pain in the ass to deal with. In Hell those are commendable traits that make someone deeply worthwhile.
But Crowley had no proof it was Hastur. Just the new rules he was being given. Or rather, wasn’t being given.
Sure, he could keep the powers. They had no way to really turn them off since no one knew where they came from. What could be turned off, for some infernal reason, was what the powers actually did. He was allowed to keep the summoning, manipulation, granting, and other various exploits. What had been taken, just as She had ages ago, was his form.
She had made him into a great beast and now Hell was making sure he stayed like that simply because it annoyed him more than any other punishment would.
If it just set him as a snake that would have been one thing. He could handle being just stuck as a snake, Aziraphale could handle him being just stuck as a snake as well. The difference between a six foot snake and a fifty foot Serpent Of Hell were vast.
He broke the surface of the earth with a great heave and cursed the ground he came from, spitting venom and shedding feathers. He considered himself at least lucky that he and the angel had already gotten their shared cottage but...it’s not like he could go inside it.
Emerging from the earth as a smaller snake, or even as a man-shaped-snake, left only the smallest trace of a circle. When you’re as thick as a sedan at your widest point that isn’t exactly a choice any more. The circle was a thick tar-like stain on the ground of their garden, destroying only a few plants (but they were still plants that didn’t deserve it.)
He didn’t know how he would explain this to Aziraphale. The angel hadn’t seen him since he got discorporated. This was one of the quickest turnarounds either of them had for getting a new body. Obviously Hell didn’t want him around.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, Aziraphale had seen him erupt from the groundfrom where he’d been reading in the garden only thirty feet away. At least he wouldn’t have to find a way to bring up the conversation. The angel simply stared at him for a moment, his confusion written clear on his face, “Crowley?”
It was only then that Crowley realized Aziraphale had never seen him like this. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was a snake, but just as Crowley had never seen Aziraphale’s true form, there had been no occasion necessary enough to show the angel his own. Except now, he supposed, “Hey Angel. How long was I gone?”
Aziraphale shook his head as if trying to ignore the fact his husband was just slightly smaller than their house at the moment. “Come inside, we’ll talk about it.”
“Well that’sss the rub, isn’t it?” Crowley bent low to poke his snout right up to Aziraphale’s stomach.
‘What?” Aziraphale laughed, gently pushing the giant snake face away from him. ‘What are you talking about?”
“Well, letsss start with the good news.” Crowley stretched his form in an easy half circle around Aziraphale and most of the garden. “I’ve still got my powers. And uh, I guess I will be keeping them for the foreseeable future. I also don’t see myself getting called back down to hell anytime soon. No more paperwork and all that. Got a bunch of backlog done. Lotssss of signing my name to things.”
Aziraphale frowned and looked at him, trailing his eyes across the giant form that was making no attempt to get less giant and come inside. He could bring up the month he’d spent wondering if Crowley was coming back, but in the past sometimes it had taken years for Crowley to get a new body even when Hell hadn’t wanted him dead. A month wasn’t so terrible. “Good news implies bad news?”
“You’re looking at it.”
Aziraphale nodded slowly, “They think they can’t kill you so they’ll just annoy you, I suppose.”
“Had something to do with making it as hard as possssible to exist in the world I tried to save or something, not actually sure I really wasn’t paying too much attention. But uh. Erm. Can’t uh. Can’t...not be a giant snake.”
Aziraphale crossed his arms, thinking about this. “You’re a bit more than a snake at the moment.”
Crowley lamented the ability to shrug. “Wings notwithstanding I’m basically a snake. Snake adjacent. Snakeish.”
“I’ve never seen you like this.” Aziraphale uncrossed his arms and took a step forward to inspect Crowley’s form. “I’ve seen your more...earthly form of course. I had no idea you were so…” he rolled his hand around in thought for the right word, “large”
“As far as demons go I’m not actually all that impressive. Not that you’ve seen many of us like this.” Crowley sagged to the ground so Aziraphale could look at him. The angel pressed his hands to Crowley’s side, running them over the smooth scales that disappeared periodically into patches of dark coiled feathers. “At least it feels nice to finally stretch and not be cooped up in a little six foot man body.”
Aziraphale ignored that implication and distracted himself by straightening and preening the downy fluff running along Crowley’s back. He pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s back. “I think you’re plenty impressive, but...this is a problem.”
The kiss burned hot against his side as a little mark of love this body wasn’t supposed to receive. “I’m not going to be able to take you to your shop. Or anywhere. Oh bless it I wouldn’t even be able to drive the bentley even if I could fit in it, no hands.”
“Do you think I can miracle you smaller?” Aziraphale asked then and wiggled his fingers. “That’s all you did to get yourself a human body in the past, right? It’s just been the snake form all mushed around to look like a man.”
Crowley would not ever have described it like that, but Aziraphale wasn’t technically wrong. “That’s...a nice thought. I’m not exactly eager to see how divine intervention can squeeze me down to a ninth of my size. Let me terrorize the land for a bit. It’s been a while since dragons roamed the English countryside.”
“They never roamed the English countryside, that’s all Welsh. You know that.”
If Crowley’s eyes were able to roll he would have rolled them. He settled for letting the feathers in his wings puff up indignantly. “Still. English or not, we live in the middle of nowhere. I can exist for at least a little bit before I need a fix. Then if you wanna squish me down into a man we will see if you can.”
Aziraphale gave a small pout. His “magic” had a tendency to lie more in happenstance-like luck rather than actual physical alterations. A parking spot would just be open at the right time. Dinner reservations would always go through. Splashes from puddles always tended to miss the bottoms of his pants legs. He could, if he tried very hard, make physical alterations happen. But that manipulation was always easier handled by Crowley, and with the arrangement being set up Aziraphale had fallen out of practice simply by virtue of having Crowley miracle up the random objects needed to fulfill whatever drivel heaven needed.
Also if they needed a bottle of wine at a moments notice Crowley’s always tended to taste just a little bit better, for whatever reason. Real wine was always preferable to wine simply pulled from the ether but emergencies happened.
He really wasn’t sure if he could put Crowley into a human form. He wasn’t even sure if he could make him smaller. He wasn’t even remotely sure he could alter the way Crowley looked in any way shape or form at all. He’d simply never tried. Maybe if he thought about it really hard over dinner, when he came out the next morning Crowley would just happen to be a man again. He knew that wasn’t likely but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t try.
“I’m really not sure I can squish you at all, my dear.” He finally said after a moment's thought on the matter. “You know I’m not as...proficient at these things. Maybe the Tadfield witch has something.”
“Anathema? It’s been a hot second since we’ve been there. I’m not sure she hasn’t gone back to America by this point.”
“Dreadful business. I’m sure she hasn’t.”
“Surely,” Crowley laughed. “You care to inform her a nightmare is going to visit or shall I impose myself on the cottage? I haven’t gotten to terrorize anything since the middle ages.”
Aziraphale shook his head in a sharp no. “Even if the antichrist didn’t live there you know I cannot allow that. Humans will see you. I’m not sure it isn’t a better idea to simply call her over. In fact-” he clicked his fingers and had the good fortune to find Crowley’s smart phone in his jacket pocket “I think I will send her a—” he looked at the phone as if to possibly remember the word for ‘text’ in a mind that forgets the concept of texting even exists half the time. He instead shook the phone at Crowley to emphasize his point. “I’ll work on it.”
—-
Anathema was a woman who prided herself on her ability to take things in stride. One main benefit of having your life planned for you was that nothing actually came as too much of a surprise. She always knew what was coming, and when she didn’t know the future she was ready enough to know how to handle it anyway.
But never in her life had she been able to choose something for herself. Agnes said nothing on whether or not she would stay with this man, with this cottage, with these friends. If it was spoken about in the second book, then she would never know. She chose him herself, made him a part of her life herself, and decided on their future without anyone’s outside input. Except his.
She was good at taking things as they come. Like for instance a call from a recognized number she hadn’t added to her contacts listing a name she hadn’t learned but knew all too well the owner of. Anthony Crowley. She didn’t know he was a demon, but she did suspect him and his partner were occultists of some kind.
The voice over the phone was decidedly not the lanky man she was picturing it to be. “Hello, Anathema dear?”
It was the shorter of the two. Why the number registered as the other one she didn’t know. “Yes? Who is thi-” she cut herself off, “-how did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you.”
“No, but I needed it.” Came the soft voice. She didn’t understand how that was possibly an answer. “But dear girl, to the point: What are the limitations of your Magics?”
“Excuse me?” She asked. “I don’t even know your name?”
“Oh, I thought we’d been introduced but I guess not. Forgive me. Anathema Device, I am Aziraphale, we met at the airbase during the end of the world, and I need your help.”
She knew what he was talking about now, at least. Adam had shifted things around a little bit after the apocalypse. She didn’t remember how she got home from the airbase, or when Newt had showed up at her doorstep. But she did know she’d seen this Aziraphale man before. Maybe they’d added contacts before Adam wiped her memory? She wasn’t sure. “You’re the one with the sword, another witch I assume?”
Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, “...yes?” He questioned. “Though I don’t have the sword any more. Collections came.”
“Well, you seem to remember more than I do, I guess. What do you need help with?” She wasn’t sure what else to do besides offer her assistance. Aziraphale and his partner hadn’t done anything in the final fight besides hold each other and talk to some people. Gave Adam a bit of a pep talk as well. Maybe they just weren’t very good at their magic. She remembered their auras were massive though, perhaps they were spectralists? Drawn to the antichrist’s supernatural energy? She didn’t know, so she’d have to figure it out.
“What are the limitations of your Magics?” he asked again, followed by a strange muffled thumping noise and a soft “Crowley no!” In the background.
That was an open ended question for Anathema. “Limitations in what way? Are you asking how far I can cast or..?” She had no idea what he was after.
There was more shuffling on the other end of the line followed by a solid thudding like a door closing before Aziraphale spoke again. “I simply mean the type of magic. The...oh how do you say it. Is your power only in locating antichrists or can you do other things?”
“I can do many things.” Anathema said proudly.
“Can you, perhaps, alter the size of an object?”
That was a little more physical than she was used to but she was sure there were spells for such a thing. “I'm sure I can.”
“What about the size of a person?”
Anathema balked. “‘this isn’t some- some- weird sex thing right? I’ll hang u-“
“NO!” Aziraphale was quick to interject. “No! Crowley has had an...accident; I guess you could say. I'm loathe to spill the details over the phone. you never know who can listen in. Would you mind so much if we made a stop over? Discuss it?"
Accident? Crowley was the thin man and Aziraphale was using his phone. Anathema was starting to slot this story into place. “I normally wouldn’t mind, especially since it’s so rare I get to talk to other witches, but I’m not in Tadfield right now.”
“Not in...of course. Yes. Do you know when you may return?” Aziraphales voice was thick with worry.
“In about a week. I wanted to introduce Newt to my family.”
“If you would be so kind as to phone me when you return,” Aziraphale took a moment from the phone while all she heard was more rustling on his end, “I can get you compensation for your help. Of course.”
“Sure. Right. Okay Mr. Aziraphale, I’ll give you a call. Goodbye.” She quickly shut the call off. Something about this seemed...not quite right. Crowley, with that dangerous aura, having an accident and now needs some kind of alteration magic? Her mind went immediately to the idea that he’d summoned a demon and was now reaping the consequences of such a stupid action. Poor Aziraphale, to be caught in that crossfire.