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Sometimes, the universe likes to play tricks on us. Perhaps to teach us a lesson. Perhaps for its own amusement. Perhaps because nothing actually matters, and reasons are stories we tell ourselves to help us sleep at night. Regardless, this is a story about one of these tricks, in which an angel and a demon stare into the funhouse mirror of reality and catch a glimpse of their cursed counterparts. Welcome to the circus. Bring out the clowns.
London. 1992. The worst timeline.
Crowley opened his eyes. He must have dozed off in Aziraphale’s shop, that tended to happen after a long day and a few drinks. However, taking in his surroundings, he realized that this environment was entirely new to him. He was in a normal office, with walls that were not painted black. How did he get here?
Standing and walking into the hall, Crowley was passed several formidable looking people as well as what appeared to be waitresses. But why were they wearing what looked liked discount demon halloween costumes? Even the real demons he knew had a better fashion sense. He cringed as he passed them, hoping this was another dream.
Crowley stepped out into the main room of what he realized was a nightclub. A punk band was playing a Buddy Holly cover in the corner. Was that Buddy Holly cover really long, or had they been playing it over and over again? He shook his head and kept walking.
Suddenly, a man with white hair and white, wrinkled clothing walked in the door. Crowley stopped in his tracks when he saw him.
“Crowley?” The man inquired, looking a bit confused.
“That’s me...sorry. Um. Do I know you?”
The other man laughed. “We’ve only been friends for the last 6,000 years-” he suddenly caught himself and frowned. “Wait, not friends. Sorry.” The man looked at his shoes.
Crowley lowered his glasses in shock. “Aziraphale? Have you got a new corporation or something?” Shoving his glasses back up his nose, Crowley pulled the stranger to the side. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. The suit is nice but-what’s going on? What is this place?”
“This is your nightclub. Do you not recognize it?” Aziraphale looked him up and down. “Honestly, something does seem a bit off about you. You look...cleaner, if you don’t mind my saying so. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s different.” He shook his head glumly. “I’m sure I’m just being stupid again.”
The gears in Crowley’s brain were already working overtime as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him. Hearing Aziraphale call himself stupid brought his mind to a screeching, smoking halt.
“Don’t call yourself stupid, you’re brilliant!” Crowley gently placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I know that at least.”
“Oh...thank you. You’re honestly too kind to me.” Aziraphale smiled before checking his watch. “”I’m sorry, I must be off. My girlfriend Anathema is waiting for me at the museum.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Crowley, being part or completely snake at times, had the rare ability to make the phrase ‘picking one’s jaw up off the floor’ reality rather than idiom. After contemplating the ramifications of Aziraphale’s parting words, he rearranged his jaw and sat at the bar resignedly. If this was his nightclub, however bizarre that assumption was, he could at least drink for free. He just wished the band would play something besides Buddy Holly.
And thus, Aziraphale finally received a fraction of the love and care that he deserved. Crowley only wished that he could do more, but alas, his time in this universe was coming to an end. He disappeared, out of the clutches of evil. But beware! The true danger lies ahead!
London. 2019. A slightly less cursed timeline.
Crowley woke up suddenly in a chair that was too soft. He opened his eyes, cursing himself for falling asleep in his office again when there was work to do and money to be made. He was greeted by a man in a sweater vest entering the room with two cups of cocoa.
“Did you sleep well, dear?” the man said, smiling and placing the cup in front of Crowley. He looked the man up and down judgmentally. Something was familiar about him, and Crowley suddenly felt the urge to insult him. He held his tongue for the time being.
“I slept fine. Where am I? Does Satan want to meet with me?” He glanced around the room skeptically, taking in the stacks of books. He’d met Satan in some strange places, but he’s never seen this person before, has he?
The man shook his head slowly. “I should hope not, given that you’re not exactly on the best terms with him.” He squinted at Crowley. “Something’s wrong. Forgive me, but have you showered lately?”
“And why would I tell a complete stranger that?” Crowley countered.
“I’m not a stranger, I’m Aziraphale.” said Aziraphale matter-of-factly. “That must have been quite a nap.”
“Wait, if you’re Aziraphale you should be at the museum. You never leave the bloody place.”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “A museum? No thank you. I’m quite happy here in my shop, and I have enough customers to deal with already without going out in public. I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.” He eyed Crowley (was that Crowley?) suspiciously. This man was behaving less and less like the demon he knew.
“Aziraphale, honestly. You are so stupid. How can you have forgotten that you work in the British Museum? I swear, I have no idea where I am right now and I’m still leagues ahead of you intellectually.”
Suddenly, it felt as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Acting like James Bond in the mirror would not save Crowley now.
“ Pardon me?”
Crowley gulped and sunk into his chair.
The evil has been vanquished! Reality is inverted once again, returning those who were lost to their true places.
London. 2019. As it should be.
“So.” Crowley said flatly.
“So.” Aziraphale agreed.
“That was...really weird.”
“Unpleasant, yes.” Aziraphale shuddered. “I can’t say that I’m a fan of the other...you.”
“Not a fan? I fucking hate the guy and I never got the chance to meet him. I just feel bad for the other you .”
Aziraphale sighed. “As do I. I just hope I put that awful man in his place.”
“Angel...what did you say to him?”
Aziraphale smiled sweetly and blew on his new coat of nail polish, which was still drying. “Not a thing in the world, dearest.”
Crowley paused suspiciously. “...right. Well, I’ve never been more glad that I’m fallen, because I can definitely say that the Almighty really screwed up when She made whatever the heaven that nightmare was.”
Aziraphale snorted. “The Almighty? Goodness, no. Whatever created that scenario is a force of evil that far surpasses the minds behind the tortures of the deepest pits of Hell.”
Crowley laughed. “Fair enough. I’m just very glad to be back.” He leaned closer to Aziraphale, giving him a quick kiss. “Couldn’t do that before, not with you having a girlfriend and all.”
“A what ?!”
With lovers reunited and the forces of evil destroyed, everyone has learned a valuable lesson. Or not. This was an exercise in futility.