Chapter Text
Shane crashed through the open woods, groaning quietly as he struggled to get to his feet, charcoal black blood dripping from every limb. He could feel the bones in his leg shift, clearly fractured, grinding against each other as he struggled to walk.
“...Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.” He whispered frantically, with a weak smile, giving an empty chuckle as if he’d heard a joke, it slowly fading into a bloody cough. He wondered what Ryan would think, seeing him. Seeing a random demon figure in the woods with black eyes, and crow-like wings, struggling for safety.
He’d probably lose his shit.
He wheezed quietly at that thought, his eyes glazing over slightly as he slid down a tree, holding his bleeding stomach.
Hell wasn’t a nice place.
It’d never be a nice place, would it?
He barely noticed the two distinct figures making their way over, alarm in both their eyes. The one wearing a leather jacket just stood by, silent, like he didn’t exactly know what to do, but he looked like he was equally panicked and anxious as the very posh sounding man next to him.
“Oh dear.” The shorter one said, walking slowly, before increasing his pace. “Oh, dear , are you alright?” His words came out rushed, flustered by the sudden sight of a mortally wounded demon, his brows furrowing as his shoulders rose. He could practically hear the soft man’s feathers ruffle.
He was not alright. He was the complete opposite of alright. Literally, nothing about this was alright.
He was dying.
Shane’s eyes widened, blinking as he hazily watched the man kneel next to him, putting his gentle hands on his shoulders, delicately, like he was made of paper. Just before the man did anything, the one in the leather jacket cried out, clearly alarmed.
“DON’T!” The softer one jumped, pausing as his head snapped to the more jaded looking one. “He’s a demon, angel. That’s going to hurt.” His words sounded panicked, as if he knew from experience. He was silent for a short moment, thinking, before striding towards him, adjusting his sunglasses, and rolling up his jacket sleeves. “Here, let me do it.”
He put his hands on Shane’s shoulders, which made him give a quiet yelp, hissing slightly through his teeth. “ Fuuck .” Shane whispered hoarsely, clearly writhing in pain. “Crowley!” The softer one said, accusingly, without any malice, but concern dripping from his tone.
The man wearing a leather jacket jerked his hands away, clearly looking guilty and slightly anxious, before taking a breath gently placing his hands back on his shoulders, clearly attempting to copy the blonde one’s previous grip.
He gave a quiet sigh, before warmth slowly pulsated through his hands, a distinct smell of sulfur and ash filling the air. Hellfire. It just clicked in his head.
Demon. He was a demon.
He was being healed by a demon.
The thought seemed to elude his mind, a bewildered expression taking hold of his face, his eyes wide as he rapidly blinked. Random acts of kindness weren’t exactly common in demons, unless there was a catch. As ‘Crowley’ slowly let go of his grip, Shane sat up, flexing his fingers, and rolling his shoulder, slightly stiff, unsure on what to say.
“...Thanks, dude.” He said genuinely, giving a small smile, and a slight nod to him. He spent too much time on earth, hadn’t he? He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of his own kind. Had things changed down there? His wings weren’t healed though, but at least they healed enough that he wasn’t passing out from blood loss.
“Well, better get going then-”
He tried to stand up, before he was hit by a sudden pang of dizziness, feeling lightheaded as he stumbled back to the ground with a hard thump. He made a quiet frustrated sigh. Ryan would really lose his shit at this, him stumbling over like a toddler. He could imagine his amused laugh so clearly he could’ve sworn he heard it.
The softer one rushed to his side, carefully slinging Shane’s arm over his shoulder, exchanging a glance with the demon, a subtle nod before they all seemingly whirred into entirely another plane of existence without warning.
He didn’t know what to make of it, except, what he could describe it as was putting your five senses into a blender. Teleporting sucked.
Though he couldn’t, he wanted so badly to throw up, to help get rid of the nausea. It felt like the worst rollercoaster ride he’s been on, except it only lasted a few seconds. He leaned heavily into the angelic being as they came to a sudden stop, warm lights and an ‘old-book’ smell flooding his senses.
“God-” He whispered, clearly unwell, as the angelic one looked fretful, wringing his fingers, before setting him down on a nearby chair, books lining the shelf behind him.
“I apologize, I should’ve warned you.” He admitted rather quickly. “Oh goodness, I forgot, I’m Cherub Aziraphale.” He held out a gentle looking hand. Aziraphale paused for a moment, looking to the side as if thinking before his eyes softening. “I’m an- angel.” He said, with a note of hesitance.
Shane nodded, the nausea finally starting to wave off, but not completely. He wasn’t exactly surprised.
“Yeah I figured.” He joked, with a shrug and a grin. It wasn’t like angels to be civil with demons. Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. Ah, now he was getting a headache. “Demons don’t exactly have cherubs, and don’t apologize. I just have teleportation nausea sometimes. It just happens, don’t worry about it. And I’m-” He paused, trying to remember his real name, blinking. “I’m ex-Duke Madej. Retired. Just call me Shane.”
Aziraphale blinked, looking behind him as if questioning calling Crowley. He couldn’t help but notice how he seemed slightly more fidgety. Nervous. Tense. Shane would chuckle at his anxiety if Ryan was here, but laughing at him without Ryan to react to his antics would make it feel like a dick move.
Which it really was.
“Duke?” That’s all Aziraphale could say at the moment, echoing him.
The two stayed in each other’s tense silence before Shane leaned forward, towards him, holding a somewhat relaxed expression.
“Ex-duke. Just saying that again because personally... hell sucks . Earth is a lot better than staying down there, torturing people and doing… paperwork .” He said, with a bit of faux venom in the voice at the very mention of it, before he briefly paused, realizing he was doing that voice he did with Ryan. Aziraphale let out a bell-like laugh. Shane continued, clearly appreciative of the positive affirmation. “Humanity’s great, better than a lot of us. You don’t need to worry about me, buddy, unless you’re going out and hurting humans.” He quipped as he gave a subtle eyebrow raise to Aziraphale, with a smirk, leaning a bit further. He was joking, of course. This guy didn’t look capable of hurting anyone.
“Heaven no!” He looked appalled, but still beamed at Shane’s teasing. “But, that reminds me of the time in the 1940’s-” He turned over his chair, looking deeper into the store, smiling. “Oh, Crowley, do you remember? The nazis? That woman was a nasty lady.” He commented, shaking his head at his own thought.
“‘Course I do. All of them went straight to hell.” He said, appearing around the corner Aziraphale was looking, holding a tray of what looked like wine glasses. “Never seen anything like it. Those sinful- Their souls even didn’t go up, not a centimeter, really- they just…” He whistled a descending tone, while clearing the table in front of the two of them and setting the three wine glasses on it.
Shane wheezed at his onamonapia, accidentally briefly grazing a wounded part of his wing against the back of his chair. “ Fuck- ” He hissed out, as Aziraphale quickly got up, jumping to his side, concern written on his face.
“Language.” He scolded lightly, though it didn’t seem too genuine. It sounded more like a reminder.
He helped him up, and with a distinct aura of the sea, and oranges, a wooden stool appeared. Shane got onto it, stretching slightly as he found the newfound space more comfortable, and he let out a content groan as he popped his back stretching. “Is it better?” Aziraphale asked.
“Better. Thanks Az.”
Crowley’s eyebrows raised at the nickname, but lowered just as quickly. He held the wine in his hand, sipping it. “So. What’s got you so-” He motioned to where Shane’s injuries previously were. “You know. That.”
Shane tilted his head. There was something so… snakelike about his movements.
Snake vibes.
The way he never sat upright, or still in his chair. His human form laid over the chair so comfortably and so naturally , like a blanket. He couldn’t exactly put a pin on what gave him these vibes, but by the way he walked, it looked wobbly. Not in a bad way, but it gave off a wriggling strut, reminding him slightly of that AI that Google made, the AI that learned to walk on it’s own.
He snorted at his own thoughts.
Shane gave a lazy shrug, taking a wine glass and drinking it. He let out a hum of satisfaction. He never really had an expensive palette, always favoring cancer meat and processed cheese over expensive wines but this was good. He muffled a chuckle, thinking about it.
“I made a lot of enemies. Like- a lot, a lot. They deserved what I did to them though, they’re always trying to scare those humans in the weirdest way possible. Like, come on dude. Just get a corporeal form. Wait- PFF- HA!” He gave out a single laugh, setting down his wine. “You know Goatman, right? His bridge?”
“Yes, yes, I met him a while back.” Aziraphale said with a sigh.
Crowley’s brow raised, clearly surprised, if not a bit concerned. “You did?”
“A crude fellow. Always liked scaring those poor humans from that bridge. I don’t get it.” Aziraphale muttered, disapprovingly. Shane’s grin grew as he leaned back proudly, as if he’d achieved something noteworthy.
“I took it.”
The room was filled with silence, as Shane smiled in anticipation before it rang with laughter.
Aziraphale found this hilarious, he was rolling in his seat as he struggled to regain his breath, and Crowley was chuckling himself. He looked at Aziraphale through his sunglasses, hoping he couldn’t see him staring, his eyes staying on his gleeful smile, with a curious tilted head. His eyes softened further, offering a soft smile himself, before becoming acutely aware of the other demon in his room, the smile forced off his face.
Shane found himself wheezing loudly, choking on his wine. It felt like a weight had been taken off his chest. As fun as it was to mess with Ryan, he really had no one to share his demonic achievements with, other than people online who jokingly thought he was a demon.
“Must I say, he did deserve that. I heard he threw someone off once.” He said, taking a sip of his wine, the laughter dying down.
“He got really pissed afterwards. I heard that people are still going to the bridge and writing my name there.” Shane commented, still holding that proud smile of his.
“I angered a lot of demons, like… the one at the Sallie House? I think I forgot her name, but she was pissed. When I was alone, they all jumped on me, and dragged me back down to hell. Apparently they’ve been like- banding together like a flock of birds. They’ve been planning on taking me down for a long time.” He said this as casually and lightly as he could, but it was clear the words had weight to it by the way his eyes seemed a little more empty than they did before.
The room went silent as Shane sipped his wine.
Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.
“I’m fine by the way. Thanks for saving me back there. I was probably gonna discorporate. I’m not traumatized or anything, I did kinda deserve it, if I’m being completely honest, and I’ve gone through worse. I’m just worrying about a human friend of mine.” He tapped the edge of his wine glass lightly, a nervous tick he had. He looked at Aziraphale and Crowley.
“He… I’ve been gone for a few months, and we usually hunt ghosts together. I protect him from rogue demons, and I’m just worried the guy got himself hurt somehow. You can’t expect what they’re gonna do.”
“We can help.” Aziraphale chimed in, reassuringly. He put a warm hand on his knee, setting his empty wine glass back on his tray. “But, you need to rest. Your friend is going to be alright.” He said, softly. What perplexed Shane was how genuine he sounded, and how he sounded like he actually cared. By how empathetic he sounded, he nearly made him believe him.
Aziraphale as a demon would be terrifying.
Shane slowly nodded at him, before clearing his throat, looking at Crowley. “Hey, while I was duke, I never saw you around. Where the hell were you?”
The three seemed to talk for hours, eventually becoming drunk babbling, as it usually did. The tension was completely nonexistent. It’s almost as if Shane’s comedic laid-back energy seemed to help tie the loose stitches between the ‘gentle but slightly annoyed at times’ angel, and the ‘sometimes bratty but completely well-meaning’ demon.
It wouldn’t be a lie that Shane fought Aziraphale over which line was better, ‘purple nurple’ or ‘tickety-boo.’ Crowley, of course, decided the latter, which made Shane yell ‘biased.’
From what Shane gathered from this night, was that he was the youngest out of the three. He was only 2,000 years old. He was fallen, of course, granted his wings, but he was what some people called a ‘late-faller.’ Even though he was rather late in the game, he found himself quickly climbing the ranks. Most demons down there were either insane, or broken, and he considered himself neither, so he found it within his capabilities to climb nearly effortlessly. He was one of the saner demons down there, and he guessed that made him special.
This ‘specialty’ didn’t stop Aziraphale and Crowley from poke fun at his age though, both resorting to teasingly calling him a fledgeling.
“C’mon guys-” Shane slurred, slightly embarrassed, though jovial moreso. He was glad everyone was having fun. “I’m only like four-thousand years-”
“Fledgeling.” Crowley claimed, pacing, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re a fledgling, that’s a fact. Your wings- Your wings are baby wings. Here- let me show you-” He said, slurring as well, before falling into the couch behind him. Surprisingly, he let his wings come into existence as it popped from his back, knocking a small statue from the table next to him over.
Aziraphale looked clearly alarmed at this, his eyes flickering to the books, making a slightly annoyed expression, raising an eyebrow at him, until Crowley sighed and put it back upright.
“We… We can’t do this while drunk, we need to sober up.” Aziraphale said, rubbing his temple.
The angel was met with loud booing from two demons, before Shane miracled in another bottle of wine, which was met with cheering from Crowley. “WOOP!” He yelled wriggling in his seat like a happy snake, pouring himself another glass, in which his hip knocked over some of Aziraphale’s books.
Aziraphale, in a panic, rushed to fix it.
The difference between Crowley’s black wings and Shane’s black wings is that Shane’s was smaller in size, more brownish-black in color, and claws protruding at both wing’s polexes. Though Crowley could glide much more easily, Shane liked the fact that his wings allowed for much more grace and agility. Aziraphale at the moment didn’t care too much about wings, and instead sobered himself up.
He sighed as Crowley went on another tangent about animals.
“This only proves the Almighty’s infallible unrelenting mercy.” Aziraphale chuckled, in the middle of the two’s conversation. “Had there been any god slightly less merciful, you two would have been incinerated as soon as this conversation derailed.” Aziraphale said to himself lightly, before gently tapping Crowley’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go dear. Will you two please sober up?”
Crowley paused. “...Yeah I’m- I’m gonna have a hangover.” He muttered in a slur, before quickly sobering up.
Shane followed suit not long after, stretching as Aziraphale kindly pointed him in the direction of the guest room. The entire house smelled so… comfortable. It smelled ancient, but it smelled like a home. Not his, but the comfort of other people in this house left a warm feeling in the air. He got into the bed, careful to put the light sheets around his wounded wings.
Though he was slightly de-powered at the moment because of the monumental blow to his wings, he tried to feel for Ryan. His friend. He could always pick up at least his general area. He could always feel where he was. But.. no. He tried to ignore the alarm bells in his head, as he forced himself to drift off to sleep. But no, the enigma that was his mind refused to let him count sheep.
He was gone.
Ryan was gone.