Chapter Text
1601
“The rest is silence”
The curtains closed.
Crowley flicked his hand.
The hundred or so people who had unknowingly wandered into the globe that afternoon, and had no memory of why or how they bought tickets, found themselves on their feet in a deafening round of applause. Their eyes pooled with tears at the moving tragedy they had just witnessed, convinced that they had discovered a hidden gem of the theatre scene.
Aziraphale was on his feet too, Crowley noticed, his bright blue eyes lit up with joy at the sight of so many people enjoying his beloved play. Well, it wasn't actually his play so to speak, but he had defended it in so many drunken arguments that his brain had subconsciously associated it with the Angel.
In truth, Crowley had not been watching the stage, instead opting to gaze at his companion for the entirety of the four hours. Had he not been absorbed in watching the adorable little micro expressions on Aziraphales face, he would have quite enjoyed the play; it was something, he thought, A demon should have liked. But he preferred the funny ones.
How strange, he thought, lost in the endless pools of the Angels eyes, that he, a demon, servant of the king of Hell, devourer of souls, Prince of torment, enjoyed comedies, a light hearted bit of fun, and Aziraphale, an Angel, child of the Almighty, should enjoy something as macabre and dark as this.
Aziraphale turned around, a smile beaming on his face. Thank goodness for his sunglasses, Crowley thought, or he would have seen him staring at him like he was the only good thing in his life. Which, strictly speaking, from a point of morals, he was. He was so caught up in his thoughts That he didn't register that Aziraphale was asking him a question.
“Did you enjoy it , my dear?”
Crowley noted that Aziraphale’s bright grin was replaced with a worried frown, and realised he had forgotten to clap.
“Ngk , Angel, can't be seen applauding things, a demon with manners! Awfully bad press, you see.”
His face lightened a bit.
“Oh, well, that chap we met earlier seems awfully pleased with how it all turned out. How did you manage to get all these people here on such short notice? I do hope it wasn't anything bad!”
Crowley's stomach knotted at the thought of disappointing his Angel. He didn't think that Aziraphale would ever be able to watch Hamlet again if he thought he had inadvertently harmed all those audience members.
“No, Angel, nothing like that, just a little… Demonic miracle, shall we say”
“Well, it was absolutely wonderful! Going up to Edinburgh was the least I could do. Thank you!”
“Don't thank me Angel. demons don't do things for people, they do things for themselves, and they certainly don't do things for their Hereditary enemies! I only did it to inflict a four hour monologue on the rest of the world, you see?”
Aziraphale looked startled by this sudden hostility In the middle of what had been a perfectly pleasant conversation, or so he thought. His eyes tightened slightly, and his hands gripped the side of the railing with more force than was necessary, as if he needed it to stand up.
What was that human emotion? Crowley thought it was called guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt his Angel's feelings, but he knew if anyone was watching him, and They were always watching him, it wouldn't look good to be going around helping an Angel.
“Look,” Crowley began, hesitantly, and in a significantly lower register, almost a whisper.
“No, I understand” Aziraphale whispered, even quieter than Crowley;
“but I do think that maybe, after all these years, we might have formed some sort of mutual fondness of one another.”
“Aziraphale…” he trailed off
“I know you have a reputation to uphold, my dear, but would it really hurt to do one thing for somebody else once in a while?”
His tone was reproachful, and something inside of Crowley melted, just a little bit.
A flash went off in the crowd, and suddenly, Crowley was not focused on the way the sunlight was dancing across the Angel's face, but the way a pair of piercing bug eyes were staring at him.
“get down, Angel”
“My dear!” His face was aghast.
He hissed softly “Angel, there is a demon behind you, if you do not leave NOW, there will be serious consequences for us BOTH.”
Crowley realised the last word had come out as a snarl. Aziraphale nodded, a cascade of fear tumbling over his facial features. He vanished, and the demon, who , he noticed now, was holding a camera, stepped closer.
———————————
“Hullo, Shax” , mumbled Crowley, glancing uneasily at the pools of darkness where their eyes should be.
“to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Shax looked rather confused at the nonchalant greeting. They were used to striking fear into the hearts of their colleagues, not being ignored, which was precisely what Crowley was doing now.
“Crowley,” they began,
“M?” the demon was admiring his fingernails.
“You should be in edinburgh”
“I wass in Edinburgh, demon, i ssent a report”
Crowley always made an effort to enunciate the s’s in his speech when with the hordes of hell. He felt it made him appear more formidable, threatening even. Over the years it had become his default whilst dealing with anything unpleasant, or , in this case, being caught out.
“See, though, Crowley, I have a reliable informant that can tell me that you were not in Edinburgh”
They opened the envelope that they were holding, and slid out a photograph of Aziraphale, glancing guiltily over his shoulder.
Crowley grimaced.
“Care to explain this?” Shax had the same triumphant glint in their, well, perhaps eyes wasn't the right word, when one has checked a king on a chessboard. A raise of an eyebrow appeared to whisper, “got you”.
“Ah, Aziraphale! Isn't that heaven's principality, the one who used to guard the eastern gate? Heard he's terribly gullible, but cant say i’ve met him, no chance to try and corrupt an Angel, but one can dream, might even get a promotion.”
Shax placed the photo back in the envelope, and Crowley thought that they had admitted defeat, another unsuccessful blackmail attempt. Demons did seem terribly fond of blackmail.
He thought that they were turning to leave.
Then. Then they pulled out a different photo.
This.
This was evidence, with a capital E.
Crowley's heart skipped a beat.
“What do you want” he snarled at the demon, his eyes yellowing to a deep gold.
Shax lifted the photo surreptitiously, trailing it in the air like one of the many fliers he had handed out to promote Hamlet earlier that day. It fluttered slightly in the wind, and Crowley hoped desperately it would just fly away.
“Perhaps I don't want anything, I'm just here to taunt you, flaunt your demise, see you squirm..”
They smiled. It was a chilling sight, sharpened teeth tesselating perfectly into a zigzag of malice.
“Or…”
Crowley could have jumped for joy, if , of course, that was something he was allowed to do. He didn't think he could survive an eternity away from his Angel. Oh, his Angel! What on earth would hell do if they caught wind of this?
“Or what”
He was almost shouting now, and the few stragglers in the theatre had turned to stare at them. He cast another demonic miracle. They looked away.
“In Edinburgh…that was a class A temptation ‘you’ pulled off”
Crowley did not miss the quotations around the “you”. He pray…He hoped that they didn't know about the arrangement.
“Honestly, I'm surprised the Angel even managed to pull it off,” they said in a low whisper,a smirk dancing across their face. “Hell was very impressed”
Shit.
They obviously knew.And that meant that Hell knew too. He was fucked.
“So,.. do you want credit or something?” Crowley asked, desperately trying to regain some sort of composure, not let on how terrified he was.
“Oh no!”
they let out a laugh. In all honesty it sounded more like a wild dog's growl, the sort a large one makes as it locks eyes with you, and decides you're going to be its next meal.
“Oh no! No,that would be far to easy,”
It was ok, Crowley tried to reassure himself, demons didn't have an imagination. It couldn't possibly be worse than anything else hell had thrown at him over the thousands of years he had been a demon.
Unfortunately, Shax did not appear to have read the manual.
Their snarl widened, not with joy, but with the satisfying feeling that Crowley imagined a spider felt when it caught an unsuspecting fly in its web.
“That would be too easy for you, oh yes,” they continued,
“Easy is boring. Do you take me as someone who likes boring?”
Their eye sockets twitched with amusement.
“I see,” Crowley seethed with quiet anger, “is this the part where I'm supposed to beg for mercy?”
“Would it help?”
Shax had the advantage, and they both knew it.
It hit Crowley like a tidal wave.This could be his last night on Earth. And he’d be damned… he’d be blessed,even-Damn this language! if he didn’t spend it with his Angel.
“WHAT.DO.YOU.WANT!” he shouted, finally snapping, unable to bear the subtle games a second longer.
That laughter. It was really starting to get on his nerves.
“i want you to remember,” said Shax, the words alive with malice,
“I want you to remember that whatever happens next, you will have to do anything Hell says.”
“Or what” Crowley hissed.
“Or your Angel, and you, for that matter, would be in biggggg, trouble. We wouldn't want that, would we?”
Crowley gulped.
“You stay away from him, you hear me?”
“Oh!” the word came out like a gasp, a rush of air exhaled from Shax’s mouth.
“You think you're protecting him!”
Shax stepped forward, their presence looming, pressing down like the slow groan of a storm, or a shadow lurking, creeping towards the foot of your bed. “You think he cares? It’s all a game to him, Crowley. You’re just another piece on his board.”
“No.”
“You're delusional!” They cackled.
Crowley’s hands shook, but he held his ground, eyes burning with an anger sharper than any poisoned sword. “What’s your game, Shax?”
Their smile curled, like a predator, savouring the moment before leeching the life out of its victim.
“You know this is far bigger than me, even an airhead like you should have figured it out by now!”
Crowley's mind drifted to one thought, and that thought was BAD.
The thought of Aziraphale being torn away, back to a monotonous existence filing paperwork in heaven, without intriguing sushi restaurants where they know your name;no bookshops; no antique regency snuff boxes, was too much to bear. And him, what would happen to him? A torrent of images flashed through his mind, each more horrific than the next.
His breath pounded in his chest, assaulted by visions- Aziraphale lost to the heavens, and he, left alone…Again. No, it wasn't fair to blame him for that, he probably didn't even remember, just another nameless face to him, seen millions of years ago.
“But he does remember, Crowley,” Shax said softly, voice like smoke curling around a candle flame. “Of course he remembers before the garden. He just pretends he doesn’t.”
The words hit like a thunderclap, slicing through Crowley’s thoughts. His chest seized. Panic flooded his veins like ice water, leaving him powerless against the memories.
Crowley's vision blurred as the storm that was his mind consumed him, violently sprawling out of control, a boat slamming into a cliff, waves crashing against the hull, desperately attempting to regain control.
“Get out of my head!” His voice was firm, but something underneath had snapped.
“Just reminding you.” Their sickly sweet tone sent shivers down his spine. “ Once an Angel, always an Angel. He isn't like us. He isn't like YOU.”
“Stop it” he hissed under his breath, but the two words were lost to the wind. It was too much. He shook his head violently, trying to banish the images.They persisted, like shards of glass embedded in his palm.
A choking sound escaped from his throat. He realised he had sunk to his knees.
Shax paced around him, relentlessly throwing images of Aziraphale into his mind, torturing him with those bright blue eyes, hesitant greetings, Aziraphale, with his sword, that first meeting, the garden, noah's ark, job, in the moors, the war…
“Stop!” Crowley's voice cracked as he shouted, words barely escaping.
The images didn’t stop. Aziraphale, sitting behind a sterile desk in Heaven’s vast, cold halls, his eyes empty, the warmth gone. No more late-night talks, no more smirks over some shared inside joke. Just the hollow routine of celestial existence, filed away like paperwork in a dusty old folder.
“Stop!.. Please!"Crowley was sobbing now, a crumpled mess. Shax grinned. This was more like it.
“Deary me!” They exclaimed, “ I thought this would be far harder. I Have to admit you've rather disappointed me”
Shax stood there, smug and composed, the sunlight avoiding them, as if even it knew that they were something unholy. Crowley’s voice echoed in the dead air, raw with pain and defiance, but beneath it all, something fragile had shattered. And Shax saw it.
Crowley's sunglasses were forgotten in the dirt.
His eyes glinted with the remnants of tears,bright yellow in the slowly fading light. They were filled with thoughts of Aziraphale, how to protect him from this, this creature that stood before him.
“You can have anything, do anything you want,just don't hurt him”
“Oh, I would never hurt him!”
Crowley's heart leapt, were all of those veiled threats empty, was he making a complete fool of himself for nothing? Aziraphale was safe! He almost smiled.
“You will”
It was as if a lead blanket had been dropped on the theatre. The words hit him like a swift punch to the chest. The ghost of a smile on his face vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
“You’ll do what I say,” Shax said, slowly now, clearly savoring every word. “And you’ll do it willingly. Because the alternative is watching him suffer. Not die, no—that’d be too easy. Reduced to a husk. Forgotten. A thing locked in Heaven’s filing cabinet for eternity, dust on the shelf of a God who doesn’t care.”
“Please” croaked Crowley “he hasn't done anything, don't make me do this”
“But you have.and Hell aren't too happy with you. Not happy at all. This is your punishment, not his.”
“And the beauty of it,” the chilling satisfaction returned to their face. “ Is that he's going to think it was all you.”
“What do I have to do?” an intense sorrow filled his face, eyes half closed, fighting back the tears.
“Just this.”
And like that, Crowley knew.
“I won’t let you do this,” Crowley snarled, voice hoarse from sobbing. “You can’t take him. I won’t let you take him from me.”
Shax raised an eyebrow, a dangerous gleam in their eye. “You’ve already lost him, Crowley. You just don’t know it yet.”