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Sunday, the very first day of the rest of their lives
Crowley strode through the damp, dark halls of Hell, his wrists– Azra's wrists– bound in front of him. There were two demons escorting him, hoods pulled up over their faces, and even though Crowley was fairly certain he was stronger than they were, well…
("Don't fight it," Azra had said last night, half a bottle of wine deep and wearing Crowley's face. "Whatever they do to you– it'll only be worse if you fight back. It just– it isn't worth it, in the end."
Crowley had nodded, and pushed down his fury at the distant look in Azra's eyes, and taken another sip of his wine.)
The two demons pushed Crowley around the corner, entirely unnecessarily, and he stumbled into what looked like a courtroom, righting himself as quickly as he could and plastering the most Aziraphale-esque smile he could manage on his face. Inside were four more demons– Hastur and Ligur, Beelzebub, and Dagon, if he remembered correctly– and then, up against a filthy glass panel behind which stood what looked like most of Hell, was a large, white, claw-footed tub.
"Ah," Crowley said, eyeing the tub carefully. This might work. This might actually work. "Hello, everyone. How lovely to see you all."
"Hello, little rabbit," Hastur– wasn't it? Crowley thought he recognised the frog– sneered.
("Do they really call you that?" Crowley had asked, and Azra had nodded.
"It's what He calls me," Azra had said. "And… well, you know how it is. They, ah… rather ran with it, I'm afraid.")
"The prisoner shall approach," Beelzebub said, and Crowley took a careful step forwards, biting his lip.
"I should assume that you're the judge, Lord Beelzebub," he said, flashing another brief, Aziraphale-like smile.
"Obiouzzzly," Beelzebub droned.
"And Ligur and I are the prosecution," Hastur said, grinning, and behind him, Ligur grinned as well.
"Ah," Crowley said. "So, Dagon, you are…?"
"I'm just here in case there's anything you've done, that they've forgot," Dagon said, a broad, sharklike grin spreading across her face.
"Ah," Crowley said again. "Right. Well. I suppose there's no point in putting it off any further, is there? Now, what seems to be the matter?"
###
Azra pulled carefully against the bonds tying his hands– Crowley's hands– to the chair. They didn't budge, because of course they didn't, they'd been conjured up by an Archangel. By Uriel, in fact, who was now glaring at Azra with murder in their eyes.
Behind them stood Sandalphon, a safe distance away, where there wasn't a chance of Crowley reaching him before he could be stopped.
("Yeah, I stabbed Sandalphon."
"You what?"
"It was self-defence! The lot of them attacked me, and you were in trouble, I wasn't about to just let them have at me until they decided they were bored or whatever."
"I honestly can't believe that you've lasted as long as you have."
"You and me both, bunny.")
Sandalphon's nervous stare and Uriel's glare both were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, approaching from behind, and then a hand landed heavily on Azra's shoulder, squeezing almost painfully. "Ah, Coriel."
"Crowley," Azra corrected, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, honestly, it's been Crowley for two thousand years now, you could at least pretend to try."
Gabriel ignored him, moving to stand in front of him, between where he was sat and where Uriel and Sandalphon stood, and Azra nearly laughed at the way that Sandalphon relaxed.
"How nice of you to join us," Gabriel was saying, with his customary broad, false grin.
"S'not like I had a choice," Azra said, shrugging. "Seriously, though, kidnapping me in the middle of a park in broad daylight?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Call it what it was, an extraordinary rendition."
Azra snorted. "Wow. I… y'know, I don't know why I'm surprised, really. I shouldn't be, not at this point. But, honestly… wow."
Gabriel glared at him, then glanced back at Uriel. "Have we heard from our new associate?"
"He's on his way," Uriel said.
"He's on his way!" Gabriel repeated, shaking his fists as though in triumph, and Azra felt as though his stomach had plummeted back down to Earth with how horribly familiar that gesture was.
Gabriel was still talking. "I think you're gonna like this. I really do." And then he stepped closer, folding his hands together and leaning just a bit too close to Azra. "And I bet you didn't see this one coming."
Azra just raised one eyebrow. "What's it to be, then? Are you going to make me Fall?"
"Oh, no," Gabriel said. "Of course not! That would be useless, at this point. No, we're gonna do something much more fun."
###
"Creatures of Hell," Beelzebub called, and Crowley blinked, glancing over his shoulder at the mass of demons contained behind the filthy glass. "You have heard the evidence against the demon known as Azra, what is your verdict?"
"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" the demons all chanted as one, and Dagon pumped her fist enthusiastically.
"Do you have anything to say before we take our vengeance on you?" Beelzebub asked, and Crowley looked back up at zir, fighting to keep his face as neutral as possible.
("Don't fight, Crowley. Don't argue, don't talk back, don't do anything that might set them off. It won't help. It can only make it worse."
"Bunny–"
"Crowley, please."
"Fine. What should I do instead?")
"I assume if I say something about the greater good, I'll only hurt my case?" Crowley surmised, raising one eyebrow at Beelzebub.
Ze rolled zir eyes. "You're a demon, you're not meant to do good."
"You know, that sounds an awful like what Heaven expects of us," Crowley mused. "And, well, I thought that we were rather meant to do the opposite of what everyone Up There wanted."
"Shut up!" Beelzebub snapped. "Bring her in."
Distantly, Crowley heard an elevator chime, and then in walked–
In walked Michael, holding a pitcher in front of herself and giving the entire courtroom setup a dark look.
"Ah," Crowley said faintly. "Michael. And I presume that's holy water, then?"
"The holiest, yes," Michael said, holding the pitcher out. "I'll be back to collect it."
"Eh, no, ah, I think perhaps you ought to do the honours," Hastur said. "Not worth the risk."
Michael arched one eyebrow, then held the pitcher out over the tub and began to pour, ignoring the excited rumblings of the demons behind her, and Crowley did his best to do the same, to push away the image of a stain on the bookshop floor, curling his hands into fists to keep from making a sound.
This could work. This could actually work.
###
"You don't get this view down in the basement," Eric said, striding blithely past Azra, a small cauldron of hellfire cradled in his hands, and Azra stared at him, wrestling to keep the sudden, overwhelming hope off his face.
("Are you sure about this?" Crowley had asked, just before they'd swapped.
"I'm fairly certain," Azra had said. "They won't want either of us alive to spread rumours of what we've done, nor will they want to chance us doing it again. And, well… it's not like there's any further for me to Fall."
"They can't just– they can't make that happen again, can they? If you go up there, they won't…?"
"No, of course not," Azra had said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "This… this could work, my dear."
"Only if Agnes is right."
"I suppose there is a first time for everything, isn't there?"
"Not helpful, bunny."
"Sorry, my dear.")
Eric had reached the small circle of stones set up in the middle of the floor, and he poured the hellfire in, watching as it roared up into a massive column, twisting and swirling and reaching nearly up to the expansive ceilings up above.
Azra took a deep breath, feeling the heat of it, the power of it. This could work. This could actually work.
###
Michael finished pouring, and then lifted the pitcher up, holding it in front of herself once more.
"Uh, it's not that we don't trust you, Michael, but, obviously, we don't trust you," Beelzebub said. "Hastur, test it."
Michael stepped away, and Hastur shrugged, then stalked forwards, and Crowley nearly flinched back before he realised that he was reaching for– for the round little usher, picking the poor creature up, carrying it over to the hellfire–
"Wait!" Crowley burst out, stepping forwards, but then those guards were there again, holding him back, as the creature began to struggle against Hastur's grip as he carried it closer to the holy water. "W-wait, please, he hasn't– he hasn't done anything wrong, you can't–"
"Wrong place, wrong time," Hastur said, dropping the poor little thing into the water, and it screamed, scrabbling against the side of the tub, burning away in seconds.
Crowley stared, his breath coming in sharp gasps, the only image in his mind that of the flooded bookshop, of Azra dissolving away like so much nothing.
That was what Hell had planned to do to the best thing that God had ever created. That was what they wanted for Azra, who hadn't done anything but love when he wasn't supposed to. A cold, endless, righteous fury flooded through Crowley's very bones, and he forced back a snarl that would have looked horribly out-of-place on Azra's face.
"Demon Azra, I sentence you extinction by holy water," Beelzebub said, and Crowley turned around slowly to face zir, still wrestling against his rage to keep Azra's nearly too-expressive face as neutral as possible.
Beelzebub looked bored, lounging on zir throne, overseeing the murder of two beings who didn't deserve a bit of it. "Have you anything to say?"
Crowley took a deep breath, then let it out, forcing himself to relax, to give another one of Aziraphale's gentlest smiles. "Just that… well, I suppose it was lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion."
"Just get in the fucking tub," Hastur snarled.
Crowley glanced at him, the smile falling off his face before he could stop it, then stepped forwards, leaning over the tub.
Then he glanced back up, frowning. "Ah. Actually, I did just get this jacket back, and I am rather fond of it– would you mind terribly if I took it off?"
###
"So," Gabriel said, from his position on the other side of the ring of hellfire (far away from any damage Crowley might do, and Azra couldn't help but feel a small spike of pride at that thought). "With one act of treason, you… averted the War."
"One act? Oh, c'mon, Gabe, give me a little more credit," Azra said. "Besides, I'm not sure when saving billions of lives became the wrong thing to do–"
"Don't talk to me about right and wrong, champ, I'm the Archangel fucking Gabriel," Gabriel interrupted. "The right thing was going to be finally settling things with the opposition once and for all!"
"More murder," Azra quipped. "How noble of you."
Uriel stalked up to him, and Azra just barely managed to keep himself from flinching back, almost sure they were going to hit him. Instead, they yanked on the ropes around his wrists, harder than was at all necessary, and snapped, "Up."
Slowly, Azra stood, doing his best to slouch in that way that Crowley had and rubbing at his wrists.
"I'm guessing it's too late to convince you to change your minds," Azra said.
"You think?" Gabriel said. He gestured to the hellfire. "Into the flame."
Azra took a few steps forwards, careful not to breathe too deeply. He could feel the hellfire, how hungry it was, the way it reached for him, and he couldn't risk showing his hand too early.
A step away from the flame, Azra stopped and closed his eyes. This will work. This has to work. This will work, and Crowley will be safe, and nobody will ever touch him again.
This is going to work.
And with that, he took one last, deep breath, and stepped into the hellfire.
###
Crowley tilted his head back against the rim of the tub, letting out a soft sigh of relief. He'd taken off Azra's coat, waistcoat, shoes, and gloves, but left the rest on, and the holy water had soaked through to his skin by now, cool and comforting definitively not deadly.
There was muttering, behind the window, and Crowley picked his head up and opened his eyes, looking over first at the audience behind the glass, and then at the four demons within the courtroom with him.
They were all staring at him, their eyes wide and terrified, and Crowley couldn't help but to revel in it a little bit.
Azra had been so afraid, for so, so long. It was these people who had made him afraid, them and Satan, but it wasn't like there was anything Crowley could do about Him. But these four, here, Beelzebub and Dagon and Hastur and Ligur, those last two especially, he could scare the absolute bloody shit out of them.
Carefully, Crowley cupped some of the holy water in his hand, then splashed it out towards the demons. It didn't come close to them, not really, but they all scrambled back, and Hastur actually screamed.
Crowley let a grin spread across Azra's face, darker than anything the demon had ever actually worn but satisfying nonetheless.
Now you lot know how it bloody feels, don't you?
###
Azra took another deep breath, drawing the hellfire into his lungs, soaking in the heat of it. He'd forgotten just how cold Heaven was, ever since the first War. He'd never much liked the cold.
The Archangels were all staring at him, shock written across their faces, and Azra grinned. After so very long…
He had to make sure that they were terrified of Crowley. Then, and only then, would his angel finally be safe.
Carefully, Azra took another breath, then blew out, pushing the hellfire towards the Archangels in a great arc. They all stumbled back, grabbing onto one another, terror writ plain across their faces, and Azra nearly laughed.
So that's how it feels, he thought faintly. That's what it feels like to be someone that others are afraid of.
He wasn't sure that he liked it, not entirely, but he certainly could see why someone would.
Azra drew more of the hellfire into himself, then stepped out of the circle, letting the flames dance up and down Crowley's arms, red as his hair and gold as his eyes and infinitely more deadly than either.
Gabriel was staring at him, eyes wide, one hand clutching Sandalphon's, of all things. "It may be worse than we thought."
###
"Oh, that was simply wonderful," Crowley said, trailing his fingers through the water, splashing a bit more out onto the floor just to watch the way it sizzled against the grime of Hell. At this point, he was just showing off, and, honestly? He was okay with that.
"He's gone native," Beelzebub said. "He isn't one of uz anymore."
Crowley flashed zir another broad grin, letting himself enjoy the moment. Oh, this was fun.
###
"What is he?" Uriel demanded.
Azra grinned. "Not someone for you to mess with." He took a step closer, then, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. "You know, you're probably thinking, if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do? And very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out."
"What do you want?" Gabriel demanded.
"Honestly, mate? I just wanna go home," Crowley said.
And at that moment, Eric came back, carrying the cauldron. "I came to get the– oh, shit!"
"Hey, there," Azra said, wiggling his fingers at Eric. "Go ahead, take the hellfire. I mean, I'll keep this bit for now, thanks, but the rest of it's all yours. And, ah, tell everyone Downstairs what happened? I'd hate for them to get any stupid ideas."
"Just get out of here," Gabriel snapped. "Both of you, go!"
"Got it," Azra said, flashing Gabriel one last grin. "Nice talking to you, yeah? See you never. Ciao."
And with that, he walked out of Heaven, still wreathed in flames and glowing with triumph.
It worked. Oh, Lord, it actually worked.
###
Michael had come back by now, and she was staring at Crowley, her eyes just as wide and horrified as the demons'.
"Hello, Michael," Crowley said, smiling at her. "Would you terribly mind fetching me a towel? I'm afraid I'm soaked through."
And, oh, hell, she actually did it, summoning a towel and holding it out to Crowley. He bit back a grin, clambering up out of the tub and drying himself mostly by miracle anyways, though he made sure to get enough holy water on the towel to give anyone who might try to stop him pause. He put Azra's outfit back together, slowly, carefully, making sure that everyone could see just how entirely unbothered he was, before straightening up, the towel draped over his arm, to look Beelzebub dead in the eye. "Right. Well, then. I suppose I'll be off? And I'd suggest that you don't try something like this again."
"Just get out of here," Beelzebub snapped, glaring at him.
Crowley grinned. "Gladly."
And then he turned and walked out of Hell, making his way back up the escalator to Earth, vanishing the towel as he went.
Oh, God, it worked. It actually worked. We did it.
We're safe.
###
Azra sat on the bench in Berkeley Square in Crowley's body, his hands folded tightly in front of himself to keep from fidgeting, watching desperately for his own face in the passing crowds. He'd made it through, but if Crowley hadn't, if something had gone wrong, if Crowley was still in Hell–
There! A few paces away and coming closer was a mess of blonde hair and a dark grey suit, Azra's body, carrying Crowley with it, and Azra couldn't stop himself from beaming, jumping to his feet and running up to Crowley.
"Hey, bunny," Crowley said, grinning up at him, looking tired and frustrated and alive, and Azra took his face in his hands and kissed him.
Crowley made a quiet noise, then kissed him back. Azra felt the faint whisper of a miracle, and he let his hold on Crowley's body slip, fazing back into his own as Crowley did the same, never once letting go of one another, not for a long, long moment after they were firmly re-settled into themselves.
Eventually, though Azra pulled back, still cradling Crowley's face– and, yes, now it really was Crowley's face, his fire-red hair and golden eyes and lopsided grin staring back at Azra.
"Hi," Crowley said.
"Hello, my love," Azra replied.
Crowley's grin grew impossibly broader. "You're okay."
"I am," Azra said. "And you– did they–?"
"I'm good," Crowley said. "Just– y'know, what you saw."
Azra grimaced. "I am sorry about that."
"Not your fault, bunny. Not like you could've stopped them. You were sorta busy being kidnapped."
"I suppose I was," Azra said. "Oh! You'll never believe what Gabriel said to you."
"Really?" Crowley asked. "Care to tell me over lunch? I think a table for two at the Ritz just came free."
"How miraculous," Azra said, pulling back just far enough to take Crowley's hand in his, loathe to let him go.
Thankfully, Crowley seemed to feel much the same way, if the strength with which he gripped Azra's hand back was any indication. "I'll say. So, how about it, can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?"
"Temptation accomplished," Azra said, giggling, and Crowley beamed, leaning in to press another, much shorter, kiss to his lips.
"Right," he said. "Let's go, then."
"I just– before we do," Azra said. "Crowley, I… I don't know that I've ever actually said it aloud, have I?"
Crowley blinked, then frowned. "Said what?"
"That– that I love you," Azra said. "Because, well, I do. I do love you. More than I ever thought it was possible to love anything. I love you so very much, Crowley, a-and I'm so sorry that it took me so very long to– to be brave enough to say it."
Crowley stared at him, an almost unbearably soft expression on his face. "I love you, too, bunny. And… y'know, you never needed to say it, not really. I– I knew. I've known."
"I know," Azra said, squeezing Crowley's hand again. "It just… I spent so long, trying to– oh, it just feels good to say it. It's been…"
"It has," Crowley murmured, leaning in for another kiss, and Azra kissed him back, of course, almost desperate for it after so very, very long without.
After a long minute, during which Azra found himself rather glad about the fact that Crowley had miracles them into invisibility during their swap back, Crowley drew back, panting slightly.
"Y'know," he said, "I think I've got a better idea than lunch."
"Oh?" Azra asked, smiling. "What would that be?"
Crowley leaned in, whispering something into Azra's ear, and Azra's face flushed as red as his eyes.
"That, ah," he said. "That– I would be amenable to that."
"Amenable," Crowley said, grinning down at him. "Well, then, bunny, let's go."