Chapter Text
Aziraphale looked down at the demon in front of him. They were in Heaven's embassy in Hell to discuss the battle between the exercises army and Hell's rag-tag team of sinners. Aziraphale had not expected Crowley.
He'd expected anyone else. Anyone at all. He thought he was meeting with Lucifer, or Satan, or at the very least Charlie Morningstar, the elusive daughter of Lucifer and the first woman. He was expecting someone, if not Lucifer himself, someone close to him, not Crowley. Last Aziraphale saw of the red headed demon he hadn't wanted anything to do with Heaven or Hell.
Crowley's hair was longer, past his shoulders longer, in curls that had a mind of their own. His still adorned his black sunglasses, and questionable taste for leathers, black and punk rock. He was the same old Crowley, but with some black scales where his cheek bones where.
“Oh… blessed day… ambassador. I… I wasn't expecting…!” Aziraphale's voice faltered. The angel kept his eyes low. Even though he wasn't physically in the room; he could feel the tension in the air.
“Oh? Wasn't expecting to see me, ah?” Crowley smiled, a horrible twist of his lips that Aziraphale found completely uncomfortable to look at.
“I was expecting someone close to Lucifer…!” Aziraphale muttered, his eyes still down.
“Oh, I'm plenty close with Luci, baby! I'm practically his right hand man!” Crowley walked up to a chair and took a seat, resting his feet on the top of the table.
“Plus, I was expecting someone else too. Someone who didn't like the sound of Nightingale's cheerping.” Crowley began to make sounds similar to a Nightingale.
Right hand? How long had Crowley been his right hand? He was friends with him… before the fall. And he was a high ranking angel after all.
And the Nightingale comment was unnecessary.
“Anyways. Onto business, supreme archangel. Your lot did call this meeting after all.” Crowley said all the syllabus in supreme archangel but refused to say his name. It would hurt worse than being splashed with holy water for him. It hurt Aziraphale that he couldn't see the demon’s eyes.
“Yes… yes. Onto business then.” Aziraphale sat across from Crowley on the large rectangular table.
“The sinners killed Adam and a handful of our exercises angels, they must pay.” Aziraphale spat out the same line Sera had told him to start off with, but his mind was divided, thinking about when Crowley became so close with Lucifer, and if Crowley was going to try to kill his hollagrame.
“Ah yes… Adam, first man, first to die… eugh… can’t believe I just quoted that bloody fuck ass dear…!” Crowley gagged for a moment: “but it was funny… say, do you think he lost your flaming sword too? Seeing as he didn't have it in the battle. Just as irresponsible as the angel who gifted it to him.” Crowley chipped with a found amusement Aziraphale couldn't read.
It sounded like old banter, but he knew better than that. He knew Crowley hated him. He knew Crowley was a demon, assisting the same very souls that were causing him some many problems.
“This is a serious matters.” Aziraphale coughed into his hand, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. “The sinners have to pay. They-”
“Have been through enough!” Crowley swung his feet off the table; stomped the ground with a loud thud of his heel in the motion to stand up and leaned on the table: “The very existence of Hell is bad enough! The pain, the suffering, the humiliation, the everything! Then your bloody fucking lot disited it to be a horriblely wonderful idea to exterminate their very souls, add on extra fear, and leave your bloody fuckin weapons down here for them to discover, manipulate and use to tear eachother apart in new gersome ways!!” Crowley snapped, raising his voice to what could be considered a very angry yelling tone.
“You twats had what was coming to ya!”
Aziraphale sat there shocked. Crowley had yelled and cursed at him before, but this was different. It wasn't personal or banter that he could dismiss later on. He was separated from this issue, this probably, but still taking it like his own responsibility. He was angry at the angel's, and lived with Aziraphale.
“I… i… I ummm... see… well then. I hadn't started the exterminations… and you really did try to help end them when…!” Aziraphale didn't know what to say. This was his first meeting with a hell representative and it just had to be his ex-not-friend the serpent that led to man-kinds downfall into sin.
“Ang-!” Crowley cut himself off. “Aziraphale. The sinners of hell that participated in defending themself will not pay for defending themselves, their families, friends and may I dare say home.” Crowley had calmed down to a quiet wrath, speaking in a low gutral hiss.
Aziraphale just sat there, listening. He had nothing to say. What could he say? Crowley was right. Heaven had started the exterminations. They were at fault for several hundred human lives. The same lives Aziraphale promised to protect.
“Now, if your lot want not send anymore excesses, much would be appreciated. If not, we'll just kick your arse again.” Crowley turned to leave, done with this meeting.
“Crowley, wait!” Aziraphale called out before the demon could leave the room, that would end the meeting, forcing Aziraphale back to his actual job of paper work.
The demon stopped, a few steps short of the door.
“The day I offered you salvation… to become an angel again… why did you decline? Why are you in hell now? Why?” Aziraphale was gripping his chair's arm rests so hard it was molding the shape to his palms.
Crowley turned his head slightly, seeing the supreme Archangel through his curls and sunglasses.
“You still don't know why I denied your salvation, angel?” Crowley asked, turning his head to look at the door.
“.... I was never your friend. I was trying to collect your soul for my master. It’s an art we demons have. Cultivating, manipulating a soul to do harm. I believed getting your soul would win me high praise. After all, i am rather tight with ol' Luci.” Crowley said, everything he said twisting and turning in Aziraphale's stomach.
This statement went against everything he knew. It broke him. Everything he experienced with the demon. The lies told, lives saved, the world they saved from almost ending, the kiss. That… that went against everything he knew.
“I almost succeeded.” Crowley added, looking down, cupping his hand over his eyes. “Oh well. Looks like heaven gets to keep your soul.” Crowley walked out of the room with a casual stride, leaving the angel broken and questioning his entire life.
Aziraphale had expected his next encounter with Crowley to be unpleasant but this… this was a new form of horrible.