Chapter Text
“Ah, Aziraphale,” said the archangel Gabriel as he strode into the room. He squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder tightly. “So glad you could join us.”
He smiled awkwardly, a little irritated. “You could have just sent a message,” he said. “I mean… a kidnapping? In broad daylight?”
Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. “Call it what it was - an extraordinary rendition.” He grinned smugly. “Now, have we heard from our new associate?”
“He’s on his way,” said Uriel.
Gabriel’s grin widened, and Aziraphale resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes.
“He’s on his way,” he repeated. “I think you’re gonna like this.” Gabriel clasped his hands together and strolled towards the chair that Aziraphale had been tied to. “I really do. And I bet you didn’t see this one coming.”
Aziraphale smiled politely.
⧖
“-And the murder of a fellow demon,” finished Hastur, glaring into Crowley’s dark glasses. “A crime I saw with my own eyes.”
Beelzebub sighed, bored, as usual. “Creaturezz of Hell,” they announced. The demons called back in response. “You have heard the evidenzze againzzzt the demon known azz Crowley; what izzz your verdict?”
“Guilty! Guilty!” The demons cried out, all too eager to watch Crowley be punished. It wasn’t really anything to do with his personality, but rather the fact that they were, well, demons , and an opportunity to watch something violent happen for the very sake of violence sounded oh, so enticing.
Beelzebub tilted their head as Crowley turned around to face them. “Do you have anything to zzay,” they asked, “before we take our vengeanzze on you?”
Crowley shrugged, seemingly unbothered, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What’s it to be?” He asked. “An… eternity in the deepest pit?”
“Oh, no. We’re going to do something even worse,” Hastur smiled thinly. “Letting the punishment fit the crime.”
Ding!
That was an oddly cheerful sound for a lift that leads to Hell to make, Crowley thought.
The archangel Michael turned the corner, holding a glass jug which was full of water in her spectacularly clean hands.
“The archangel Michael?” muttered Crowley, and turned to Beelzebub, who was leaning forward in their chair. “That’s… unlikely.”
“Co-operating with our old enemies,” said Dagon knowingly.
“Well, wank-wings. You brought the stuff?” Asked Hastur.
Michael nodded calmly. “I did,” she replied. “I’ll be back to collect it.”
“No, I think you ought to do the honours,” he hissed. “I’ve… uh… I’ve seen what that stuff can do.”
Michael casually poured the contents of the jug into the rusted old bathtub in front of Crowley, and it didn’t stop pouring until the tub was full. The demons all lurched and looked away in horror and fright. Crowley watched in anticipation.
⧖
“Don’t get this view down in the basement,” joked the demon, striding through Heaven casually. He threw the contents of the pot he was holding into the pit, which erupted into flames immediately.
Aziraphale watched as they licked at the glassy ceiling, leaving faint black marks.
⧖
“That’s holy water,” Crowley grimaced.
Michael set the jug down and folded her arms. “The holiest, yes.”
Beelzebub stretched their arms and yawned. “Er, it’zz not that we don’t truzzzt you, Michael, but obviouzzly… we don’t truzzzt you,” they said, and then turned. “Hazzztur - tezzt it.”
Hastur stepped menacingly towards a small demon who was standing nearby. He was wearing a little sash, and holding a staff in his right hand. He began to squeal as Hastur lifted him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He demanded. “What have I done?”
Hastur growled. “Wrong place; wrong time.”
He dropped the small demon into the bath of holy water, and it screamed loudly as its flesh began to disintegrate in the most horrible way. Crowley’s eyes widened, unbeknownst to the others, as he watched. Hell really was awful, he thought. It’s no wonder I don’t like working for them. He breathed in deeply.
“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub shouted, shattering his flow of thought. “I zzzentence you to exzztinction by holy water.”
Crowley turned around to face the Prince of Hell. They looked about as bored as ever. “D’you have anything to zzay?”
He exhaled. “Well,” he said, “Yes, um… this is a new jacket, and I’d hate to ruin it.” Crowley looked at Hastur for just a moment, and then back to Beelzebub. “Do you mind if I take it off?”
⧖
“So,” announced Gabriel, crossing his hands, “with one act of treason, you averted the war.”
Aziraphale looked up. “Well, I think the greater good-”
“Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine” he interrupted, “I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel.” He glared meanly at Aziraphale, who was remaining strangely calm. “The greater good was that we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all!”
Uriel walked towards him, and removed the rope from his wrists. He stretched out his hands.
“Up,” Uriel commanded.
Aziraphale stood and straightened his tie. “I don’t suppose I can persuade you to reconsider?” He asked hopefully, before smiling politely. His face quickly became serious again. “We’re meant to be the good guys, for heaven’s sake!”
“Well, for Heaven’s sake,” said Gabriel, “We are meant to make examples of traitors, so…” he smirked and gestured towards the angry fire, “into the flame.”
Aziraphale walked forward nervously, every step echoing as his heels clicked on the marble floor. He exhaled as he looked into the raging orange mass in front of him. “R-right,” he stuttered. “Well, lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion.” He smiled as kindly as he could, but was starting to realise that being nice was incredibly difficult. Especially when you were trying to be nice to the most annoyingly smug angel in all of existence.
“Shut your stupid mouth,” Gabriel said, “and die already.”
And then he grinned. His teeth were perfectly white, Aziraphale noted. Too white. The corners of his mouth lifted into a half smile.
Gabriel grimaced as he stepped into the fire. It was the kind of expression you make when someone that you don’t like has something bad happen to them, like they fall over, or their coffee spills onto their best white trousers, but you’re in pleasant company, and don’t want to seem impolite. A kind of strained wince. He didn’t look particularly bothered at all.
Strangely enough, neither did Aziraphale.
⧖
Crowley was rather enjoying himself.
The holy water was a little tingly. It kind of felt like washing with soap that was just a little too harsh, and it wasn’t all that pleasant, especially considering he was being watched by half a hundred horrified creatures of Hell, but he found that he quite liked how performatively mean he felt. He began to flick drops of water at the glass, causing the demons to writhe and hiss at him. He smirked.
“I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell,” Crowley began, “there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?” He looked expectantly at Beelzebub, who simply stared: slack-jawed and terrified. “No?”
⧖
Aziraphale smiled, and waved mockingly at the other angels, who all looked a bit confused. He rolled his shoulders back performatively, making sure that it was clear he was unbothered. He chuckled menacingly and breathed fire at them, making very direct, and very intense eye-contact with Gabriel. The angels all backed away quickly. They looked more shocked than Aziraphale had ever seen them.
“It… uh…” Gabriel stammered, waving a finger at Uriel, “it may be worse… than we thought.”
⧖
Beelzebub’s eyes were wide, and they were sitting up straight for what was probably the first time in the past three centuries. “He’zz gone native,” they said, their voice wavering slightly. “He izzn’t one of uzzz anymore.”
Crowley leaned back in the tub, and flicked more water at the demons.
⧖
“What… is he?” Asked Uriel, feigning nonchalance.
Gabriel shook his head in disbelief.
⧖
“So,” Crowley sat up, “you’re probably thinking, ‘If he can do this,’” he paused. “‘I wonder what else he can do?’ Well, very, very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.”
Hastur growled. “He’s bluffing! We can take him. One demon against the rest of Hell? What’s he going to-”
“Shut it!” Yelled Beelzebub. They really seemed to be panicking now. “Get him out of here. Thizz’ll cauzze a riot.” They stood up and walked towards the glass, before shouting at the demons behind it, “What are you all looking at?! Nothing to zzzee! Nothing to zzee here!”
Ding!
Ah, the lift again. Crowley turned as Michael stepped out, holding the empty jug.
“I came to bring back the, uh…” she stopped when she saw Crowley sitting calmly in the bathtub, swishing the water about with his hand. Perfectly alright. Not melted, or dissolved, or otherwise incapacitated. “Oh, Lord…”
“Michael!” Crowley called fondly. “ Duude : do us a quick miracle, will you? I need a bath towel.”
The angel created a soft white towel almost immediately and handed it over in silence. She looked absolutely stunned.
“I think,” Crowley began, leaning forwards with the towel in his hands, “it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in future. Don’t you?” He looked Beelzebub in the eye and nodded as one might nod to a misbehaving child.
They nodded back, scared. The other demons followed suit.
Crowley smiled kindly. “Right,” he said.
⧖
“Do you think they’ll leave us alone, now?” Asked the angel, lounging casually on the bench.
“At a guess,” replied the demon, “they’ll pretend it never happened.”
“Hmm.”
Crowley’s eyes flickered. “Right,” he said, “anyone looking?”
Aziraphale glanced around casually before closing his eyes to think. “Nobody,” he concluded. “Right. Swap back then?”
Aziraphale held out his hand, and Crowley took it.
It was just like Agnes had told them: they were playing with fire, and would need to choose their faces wisely. And so they had.
Aziraphale smiled, happy to look like himself again. He had had his moment in the shade, and now wanted to be back to normal. Elegant and pretty.
Crowley fiddled with his collar. “Tartan?” He sighed. “Really, Aziraphale?”
Aziraphale beamed, and then winked. Crowley rolled his eyes.
“So,” the angel began, “Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy was on the money.” He leaned over. “I asked for a rubber duck.”
The demon looked around.
“I made the archangel Michael miracle me a towel!” Aziraphale giggled.
And then they both laughed.
“Ah, they’ll leave us alone for a bit,” Crowley said. “If you ask me, both sides are going to use this as breathing space before the big one.”
Aziraphale suddenly looked very concerned. “I thought that was the big one,” he expressed worriedly.
Crowley shook his head. “Nah, for my money, the really big one,” he paused, and sighed, “is all of us against all of them. ”
Aziraphale frowned. “What?” He asked. “Heaven and Hell against… humanity?”
Crowley ignored the question. “Right, time to leave the garden,” he yawned. “Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?”
Aziraphale smiled. “Temptation accomplished!” He joked, and chuckled quietly. “Hmm, what about the Ritz? I believe a table for two has just miraculously come free.”
Crowley grinned and looked at him, raising his eyebrows with fake surprise. “Ahh!” He said.