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a lord and an archangel

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The loud sound of thunder and lightening came from the sky. Blue lightening hit the ground, leaving behind ash, and there stood a figure in faded whites, and beiges, a long blazer, waistcoat, golden lines going up his clothes, a golden badge of wings on his chest and white hair, with golden specks under his blue eyes, and on his knuckles.

The ground next to him rumbled and crumbled in on itself, as fire flamed slightly, and out came a figure with fiery red hair, leather black pants, red sash, golden crown and sunglasses. He brushed off dirt from his shoulders with an, “ugh.”

The two looked to each other, regarding the other, and walked over, walking between two elderly humans, and an angel and demon.

They both looked to the angel and demon. The one in white pressed the heel of his hand into the palm of the other, while the one in black slouched, raising a hand in mock greeting. “Good to see you two again.”

The angel fixed his long, pale purple scarf nervously, looking to his superior, “holiest Archangel Aziraphale.”

Archangel Aziraphale didn’t even smile, his scowl deepened, all form of friendliness he tried to keep was gone, “Gabriel.” He spat out.

The demon bowed nervously, “Lord Crawly, what an honour.”

Lord Crowley sneered, “Beelzebub, the traitor.”

Beelzebub sucked in a sharp intake of air, “that’zzzz not a nice word.”

“All the other words I have for you are words.” Assured Lord Crowley, glaring his serpent eyes behind his sunglasses. “Where'ssss the boy?” Hissed Crowley, in no mood to be messed around with.

“Well, you zee Lord Crowley—" Started Beelzebub, ready to give a long winded explanation as to what had happened to save their skin.

"Ssssilence!" Hissed the Lord, seeing what was happening before it began.

“Right! Right!" Beelzebub said, hurriedly shutting up. Slowly, the low level demon reluctantly nodded their head to Adam, who watched the scene.

Archangel Aziraphale nodded, and smiled tensely, “that one.” He moved forward, hands clasped together, “Adam Young.” Lord Crowley followed with a slink in his step. Aziraphale leaned down in a condescending way, “hi. Young man...” He waved a hand in a circular motion, “Armageddon must... restart. Right now. A temporary inconvenience cannot get in the way of the greater good.”

Adam just stared at them blankly, unimpressed.

Lord Crowley cut in, “as to what it stands in the way of, that has yet to be decided.” Aziraphale shot him glare, and a Crowley continued his annoyed and bored speech. “But the battle must be decided now, boy!That issss...” He paused, swallowing back poison filled saliva, and calming his hissing, “your destiny. It is written. Now start the war.” He drawled, eyes stern and pulled into a sharp glare.

Adam took a deep breath. The human watchers held theirs. Beelzebub and Gabriel had forgotten how to breathe some time ago.

“You both want to end the world just to see whose gang is best?” Asked Adam, thinking about Greasy Johnson and The Johnsonites, there is no Tadfield if The Them and The Johnsonites aren't 'battling' it out, and being rival gangs.

“Obviously.” Laughed Aziraphale, with a confused and pleasant smile on his face. How could one child, the Antichrist no less, not understand that? “It's the Great Plan.” He reasoned, his tone just making Adam move further and further away from this 'Great Plan'.

Beelzeebub gave the boy, and their superiors worried looks, they were ready to grab the angel and bolt. Gabriel on the other hand frowned, as he looked to his boss, confused. The 'Great Plan'... he and Beelzeebub have taken that Great Plan, shook it, torn it, turned it upside down, and inside out! How can this Great Plan still be up and running?!

“It's the entire reason for the creation of the Earth.” Explained Archangel Aziraphale.

“I've got this, Aziraphale.” Crowley assured with a smile, standing forward. Aziraphale scoffed, rolling his eyes annoyed to the sky. Crowley bent down to Adam, the same was Aziraphale did, “Adam... when all this is over, you're going to get to rule the world.” He smiled all excited and serpent-like, “don’t you want to rule the world?”

“It's hard enough having to think of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do all the time so they don't get bored.” Reasoned Adam, shaking his head, “I've got all the world I want.”

“Well, you can't just refuse to be who you are.” Aziraphale said, looking absolutely baffled and confused. He looked as if he had tried to get out of who he was at one point, and had failed, so why should anyone else be someone who they aren’t? “Your birth, your destiny, they're part of the Great Plan.”

Gabriel looked to Beelzebub to see them staring at them all warily. He took a deep breath and let out a polite cough, “um, ahem...” He walked forward, missing the double take his romantic partner did. Beelzebub’s eyes widened in fear and panic, watching Gabriel walk forward.

Aziraphale sighed annoyed, and visibly defeated, and Crowley pursed his lips angrily.

“Excuse me, you keep talking about the Great Plan.” Gabriel said, standing behind Adam on one side.

Aziraphale scowled, raising a hand to quieten the purple clothed angel, “Gabriel, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut.” He pinched his fingers together.

“One thing I'm not clear on. Is that the Ineffable Plan?” Asked Gabriel with a wide friendly smile, one that would be punchable had it not been so genuine. Well, kind of genuine, it had faltered to a bit sterner. He and Gabriel have ruined the Great Plan, and yet no God has come to Punish them, and the world still stands.

“The Great Plan!” Snapped Crowley, circling Gabriel and Adam, as if circling pray. “It issss written. There shall be a world!” Aziraphale gave his brother a dumb look. “And it shall last for six thousand years and end in fire and flame!” His serpent eyes burned into Adam’s from under his sunglasses.

“Yes, yes, that sounds like the Great Plan.” Assured Gabriel, gesturing with his hands as he took a deep breath. “Just wondering, is that the Ineffable Plan as well?” He challenged, with an air of one who just asked an unwelcome question in a political meeting and won't go away until he gets an answer. His kindness went away, his face no longer smiling, no longer friendly, and instead was replaced with a cold look, one that dared them to correct him.

Crowley looked a bit off, and looked between the angel and Antichrist.

Beelzebub’s mouth dropped in shock, they too realising why Gabriel was bringing it up... the Plan was ineffable, they messed with the Great Plan, but not the ineffable one, as they're both alive and well, as is the Earth. They looked to the bosses, who were thinking, slightly thrown off. They too was now waiting for an answer.

“Well, they're the same thing.” Aziraphale said finally, though he sounded slightly worried now. He was unsure.

Crowley threw the Archangel a nervous glance, and Aziraphale threw an equally nervous glance back to the Lord.

“You don't know.” Whispered Beelzebub in amazement, and they bumbled forward, now grinning like an idiot. "Uh..." They stood behind Adam. "Well, it would be rather embarrazzzzing if you had thought you were doing what the Great Plan said, but you were actually going directly against God'zzzz Ineffable Plan."

Aziraphale frowned, confused, and Gabriel blinked smugly, a smirk on his face.

“I mean, everyone knowzzzz the Great Plan, yeah?” Beelzebub questioned, looking around. The kids, two elders and the two young adults nodded, though they had no idea. “But the Ineffable Plan... is- well, it's ineffable, isn't it? By definition, we can't know it.”

“But it issss... written.” Crowley reasoned, his reason falling flat.

"But it might be written differently somewhere else, Crawly.” Said Beelzebub, "where you can't read it."

"In bigger letters," said Gabriel.

"Underlined," Beelzebub added.

"Twice," suggested Gabriel.

"Perhapzzzz this isn't just a test of the world." Beelzebub said, feeling smug and cocky. "It might be a test of your people, too. Hmm?"

"God does not play games with the Universe, or Her loyal servants." Aziraphale said, in a worried tone, pointing to the two of them. Crowley nodded, She didn't play games with the demons, She made them Fall.

Gabriel scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes.

“Where have you been?” Beelzebub asked shocked, eyes wide.

“Can I just—“ Questioned Aziraphale, gently taking Crowley aside, “um...” He pointed his index finger up to the sky, “I'm going to need to talk to Head Office, Crowley.” He said, lowering his voice.

The two were too far away from anyone to hear.

“How I am supposed to get ten million angels to stand down from their war footing is...” Aziraphale shook his head, waving his hand frantically. “It doesn't bear thinking about.” He stumbled out.

“You should try to get ten million demons to put down their weapons and go back to work, angel...” Insisted Crowley, his face dead and blank of horror.

Aziraphale’s voice quietened, “well, at least your safe my dear...”

“You too, angel...” Crowley responded quietly, “but that’s not the point...”

“Well, at least we know whose fault it is!” Aziraphale snapped, looking over to Gabriel and Beelzebub.

Beelzebub leaned back, and have a big sarcastic smile, and Gabriel, one had in his pocket, raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers in a wave with a pleasant, friendly smile, while Adam just stared, tense and uncomfortable.

“Young man...” Started Aziraphale walking over to Adam, bending down, followed by a slinking Crowley. “You were put on this Earth for one reason and one reason only,” he clapped his hands. “To end it. You're a disobedient little brat. And I hope someone tells your father!” He pointed to the boy.

“Oh, they will.” Assured Crowley, staring down at Adam. Aziraphale pointed to him with a jab of his thumb. “And your father will not be pleassssed,” Crowley hissed out, teeth clenched in anger.

Gabriel and Beelzebub shared a tense look of worry, and Aziraphale and Crowley vanished in a puff of white and black smoke and sparkle.



The troops were now standing down, Satan was sent back to Hell. Everything had failed.

Aziraphale sat on a bench in St James Park, having just fed the ducks who had a Pavlovian reaction to him.

Crowley suddenly sat next to him, slipping down the seat.

It was dark, it was night. It had all gone terrible wrong.

“So...” Sighed Aziraphale, “everything’s changed now...”

Crowley scoffed, looking down at three images Archangel Michael nabbed, “fraternising, for six thousand years...”

One was of them eleven years ago; Gabriel and Beelzebub was sat on a bench. The angel was straight in his seat, on hand on his lap, and the other hand was in between he and the demon. The demon, on the other hand, was sat halfway down the seat, one hand on arm rest, and the other gently between them. It was possible the two were holding hands.

The other was of 1496; Gabriel and Beelzebub had leaned into each other, and were grinning, smiling. And, yet their eyes were darted away from each other.

The final one was of 1862; Gabriel and Beelzebub were in St James Park, stood in front of the water, feeding the ducks, side by side, yet looked like they were in the middle of a difficult conversation.

“It’s dissssgusting...” Crowley hissed out, not yet aware that him, a Lord, was in fact ‘fraternising’ with an Archangel. He saw that as... something else, one might call fraternising.

“And, stopping Armageddon...” Aziraphale scowled, as he glanced to Crowley. “What should we do?”

Crowley paused, he may a demon and he may understand punishment is required, but... to punish them for spending time with the other was a bit... hypocritical... he had the sense to know that. He threw a pointed look to Aziraphale.

“Oh, good Lord Crowley, I meant for stopping Armageddon! Not for fraternising!” Aziraphale assured. He had the decency to understand he was... conversing with a demon...

Crowley smirked, “oh I’m so sorry, My Archangel, I jumped to conclusions.”

“One of the reasons for your Fall, My Lord.” Smirked Aziraphale, his insult holding no bite.

“Honestly, where did they think the Back Channelssss originated from?” Hissed Crowley, eyebrow raised. It truly is a shock the two of them haven’t be found out yet.

“Who knows, who cares...” Shrugged Aziraphale, a frown on his face. Suddenly, he smiled, “an execution... think about it! Two Traitors, both an embarrassment in their own rights—“

“I’ll send an Disposable Demon with Hellfire.” Assured Crowley with an evil glint to his eyes.

“And, I’ll send Michael with a pitcher of Holy Water.” Smiled Aziraphale, holding back from that cruel smile that threatened to form.

“Sometimes angel, you can be quiet a bastard.” Complimented Crowley, a soft smile on his lips, and he held out a hand.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and reached out, shaking the Lord’s hand and kissing his cold, rough knuckles, “and you can be quiet good.”

Nice and Evil were four letter words neither of them like, respectively.



Lord Crowley, Duke Ligur and Under-Duke Dagon walked down the dark, damp and flickering, crackling lighted hallway, with a small creature known as one of Hell's Ushers leading them. The ceiling was still leaking with gunk, and sewage water, and smelt of fire and brimstone, mixed with sulphur.

Dagon looked utterly delighted, as she walked down the hallway. Next to her was Ligur, who scowled. In front of them was Crowley, who looked bored with a saunter, scales up his face, and eyes more serpent than human.

The Usher hummed, and groaned, it was small and pudgy, and was wearing a black torn sash and a staff, that held the symbol of a goat.

Crowley sat on his large, black throne that had multiple spikes coming from the back support, and he slouched in it with a delighted sigh, his back practically on the seat itself rather than the back rest, as the seat came too far out. Ligur and Dagon sat on seats, on either side of him.

They were in a dark and dingy room, thick with dirt, with a bacteria infested bathtub, and one large, grimy window in the wall, hand prints and grease dragged down it. Behind the window was a sea of demons, sat on the floor, and maggot eaten benches, eagerly watching and groaning, waiting for what was to come.

"The trial of the demon Beelzebub, beginning with evidence and ending with utter obliviation, is in session." Hell's Usher announced, and slammed it's staff down twice. "All rise."

All the demons, Dagon and Ligur included, stood up from their seats as asked, all seeming eager.

Crowley stayed in his seat, watching with a glare-full glare, and hissed out with a bored drawl, voice echoing, "bring in the Traitor!"

Two dark hooded and cloaked demons led a frowning, and annoyed bumbling Beelzebub down the same flickering hall. They were in their usual dark clothing, but their face had bacteria and grime up it, and their hands were bound with red rope in front of him, tight and uncomfortable.

He bumbled in front of the three, the guards on either side. They smiled nervously, "hey guy.” They looked around, checking the place over, "nice place you got here.”

"Not for you, it won't be." Ligur smirked, malicious and evil.

“Could do with a few binzzzz for food.” Offered Beelzebub, “maybe a coffee table.”

"Ssssilence!" Hissed Crowley, making Beelzebub looked to him. "The prisoner shall approach."

"Love to." Beelzeebub agreed, stepping forward. “So, four of uzzzz. Rubber of bridge? Barbershop quartet?”

"The trial of a Traitor." Answered Crowley with a sarcastic look on his face, and sounded bored, not at all amused.

With a frown, Beelzebub asked, "Lord Crawly, you are...?" They trailed off, as if unsure.

"I'm the judge." He spat out, rolling his eyes. They always used the name Crawly, though he never truly liked it.

"And I'm the prosecutor." Ligur grumbled, making the black haired demon look over. The Duke was smug, smirking and proud, as if he had something evil planned.

With a confused look in their eyes, Beelzebub looked over at the smirking Dagon, and offered, "and so Dagon here is defending me?" They looked to Crowley.

Crowley just looked annoyed and done, as if Beelzebub was treating Hell like Heaven.

"Oh, I'm afraid not." Dagon answered, not sounding too sad, showing off her rotten sharp teeth. "No, I'm just here in case there's anything you've done that they forgot." She smiled evilly, correcting the demon.

Beelzebub nodded, with a look of stuttering realisation.

"But we built this place for you sssspecially." Crowley informed, sitting up and leaning on the edge of the throne. That's what it was really a throne. "It shall be your place of trial. And it shall be your place of destruction."

"Guyzzzz, you shouldn't have gone to all the trouble." Smiled Beelzebub, looking between all three of them with ease. "What appears to be the problem?"

 Oh a lot... Ligur went on and on about the issues, the problems, every single one of them, with Dagon listing a few. Crowley listened, wishing he never suggested a trail, Beelzebub had done a lot.

“- and the murderer of a fellow demon, a crime I saw with my own eyes!" Ligur yelled with an enraged yell.

Crowley heard of that, Hastur was killed by Holy Water, something Beelzebub acquired from Gabriel... understandable if you’re fraternising; either a way out or protection for a demon. Maybe he ought to ask Aziraphale?

"Is there anything I can say in my defence?" Questioned Beelzebub looking at them all.

Ligur scowled, "that's a very good question, Beelzebub."

"Objection!" Dagon argued, and Beelzebub looked to her annoyed. "It's a stupid question, there is nothing you can say or do, Traitor, as you've done it all."

"Objection ssssusssstained!" Crowley called, "creatures of Hell," drawled Crowley, bored. This was more of a theatrics then it was a fair and proper trial, but what could anyone expect? It is Hell. Beelzebub looked behind themselves, their eyebrows raised. "You have heard the evidence against the demon known as Beelzebub. What is your verdict?" Called Lord Crowley, resting his elbows on his legs, leaning forward.

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" They all chanted, thumping their fists into the air, as did Dagon, her sharp teeth on display as she cheered with them.

"Do you have anything to ssssay before we take our vengeance on you?" Asked Crowley, as they turned around to face him, a subtle panic on their face.

"What's it to be?" Beelzebub questioned, nervously, looking around at them with a shrug. "An eternity in the deepest pit?"

"No, we're going to do something even worse." Assured Ligur, a dark, evil smirk on his face. "Letting the punishment fit the crime."

There was a ding from the hallway. Heels clicked frown down the dark, flickering hallway suddenly, and they turned. They squinted, and grew confused. There, coming down the hallway was a man, in heels, ginger hair pulled up and in white clothing, with large bell sleeves, he was holding a large, clear jug of water so it seemed, and he moved to the tub.

"The Archangel Michael?" They questioned, looking to Crowley in confusion. "That'zzzz unlikely."

"Cooperation with our old enemies." Dagon smirked, her teeth sharp as she looked all too pleased with herself. As if nobody had ever thought about that before, to team up with the enemy, for an angel and a demon to work together.

Crowley held back an eye roll, annoyed. He communicated with an Archangel all the time... was it really that bad, 'fraternising' with an angel? Even he would never get angry with that, it would be a double standard.

"Well, wank-wings, you brought the stuff?" Questioned Ligur.

"I did." Michael answered, and held out the vase of liquid for them. He kept his face stern, and tense, not showing his disgust and anger, "I'll be back to collect it."

"No," Ligur denied quickly, tense as he leaned back. A rather funny sight, even to Crowley. Ligur sucked his teeth, "I think perhaps you ought to do the honours. It's..." He glared down at the black haired demon on trail, "I've seen what that stuff can do."

Archangel Michael stared at them all, blank. He raised his hands, mimicking that of Jesus on the cross, and poured the contents of the jug into the tub, and it splashed, and sloshed. The demons behind the glass recoiled, and some even had the decency to look horrified, and they yelled and grunted in fear, recoiling in terror.

Beelzebub stared, they kept staring, blankly. They stared at Archangel Michael, emptying a jug of water into the bathtub.

"That's Holy Water." Beelzebub said, once the pitcher was empty of any liquid.

"The holiest, yes." Assured Michael, his soft and angelic voice crisp and clear.

"Uh, it's not that we don't trust you Michael, but obviously we don't trust you." Crowley sneered, and he leaned on the arm of his chair. He watched as Archangel Michael left, taking the jug with him. "Ligur, test it."

"Hmm." Ligur hummed, and walked down the steps, and to the small Usher.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" Asked the Usher, as it dropped the goat staff, "oh, ow!" It yelped, it's tail being pulled. With a content sigh and hum, Ligur hovered the Usher over the water, and it tensed up in terror and fear, "no. No, no, no. What have I done?!" It called out, "no, no! Please!" Begged the Usher.

"Wrong place. Wrong time." Ligur said, as he lowered the demon in.

"Please!" It was dropped, "please! No!" It tried to leave, to escape, but it was too late, as it set on fire, screaming as it turning to sludge, it melted away into nothing. It vanished, as if it never existed.

"Demon Beelzebub," sighed Crowley, and Beelzebub turned to him. "I sentence you to extinction by Holy Water. Have you anything to say?"

Beelzebub went to shake their head, before saying, “well, yezzzz. Um... this is a new jacket, and I'd hate to ruin it. Do you mind if I take it off?” They asked with an at ease shrug.

Crowley sighed, waving a hand, allowing the demon the privilege. Right now, he’d rather be at The Ritz with a certain blond to white haired Archangel. He hoped it was going well for Aziraphale, and the death of Gabriel. At this point, that Disposable Demon should have delivered the Hellfire, and he sighed. He wanted his Archangel, yes his... it was slowly sinking in that if it was ever found out... if anyone knew he was friends with the enemy...

When he came back into the present, he paused, his face paled and his eyes widen, his face dropping.

Demons behind the glass window screamed and recoiled in terror and fear. Water splashed on the grimy glass again, and it seemed to steam and bubble under it's touch, and it dripped down the glass. It was sizzling, like bacon in oil. The Holy Water burning the evil's of Hell.

Ligur felt sick with fear and terror, and looked like he swallowed something nice. Dagon was hiding behind the Lord and the throne, her eyes wide in shock.

And Crowley, well Crowley stared in absolute terror, and he coiled up in his throne, his long knees pulled up to his chin, and gripped his legs. His breathing was becoming ragged, his heart slamming against his ribs and threatened to escape from his throat.

Beelzebub was in their vest, boxers and long socks, and lay in the bathtub their feet on either edge of the tub. Their index finger dragged around the clear, rippling water, and they looked at the group, “I don't suppose that anywhere in the Nine Circlezzzz of Hell there's such a thing as a rubber duck?"

No one responded, instead all they got was fearful silence.

“No?” Questioned Beelzebub with mocked confused, a frown on their face.

Beelzebub hummed a tune from The Sound of Music, and they waved their hands, flicking the water about, and around onto the ground, wall and window, completely and utterly relaxed. They kept humming. Demons behind the glass whimpered in fear, moving away.

"They’ve gone native." Hissed Lord Crowley, watching Beelzebub with a blank look of fear. Dagon looked to him in horror. He kept staring at Beelzebub in terror, "they aren’t one of ussss anymore."

Beelzebub picked up handfuls of water, and again, threw it at the window of demons, who all screamed and backed up in terror, and they flung more at the window, flicking their fingers, and they screamed.

“So, you're probably thinking, ‘If they can do this, I wonder what else they can do?’” Questioned Beelzebub, leaning over the tub, “and very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out.”

“They’re bluffing.” Ligur scoffed, moving forward angrily. “We can take them.”

Crowley looked positively sick, and his eyes looked everywhere, anywhere but at Beelzebub. Dagon too felt ill, but was trying to hide it, unlike the Lord who getting more and more fearful.

“One demon against the rest of Hell? What’re they going to do?” Asked Ligur, with an angry sneer.

“Sssshut it!” Snapped Crowley, glaring at Ligur as he stood. He stood up, and sauntered forward in a panic. “Get them out of here, this'll cause a riot!” He snarled out, standing in the middle of the room, yet still far enough away from the bathtub. He leaned up to overlook the demons, “what are you all looking at?” He called out, “nothing to see. Nothing to see here!” He yelled, waving the demons away.

Beelzebub flicked more water at the window of demons, and they scattered about with fearful yells, disappearing in terror.

A ding of an elevator sounded, and they turned to the noise of clicking heels, Beelzebub turned in the tub. There stood Michael, a smile on his face, as he turned to Crowley, who was pale as paper, “I came to bring back the—“ He turned to the bathtub, and his smile faltered to one of fear and shock, “oh, Lord.” He froze in fear.

Crowley turned to look at Beelzebub in fear, his eyes blank.

“Michael! Dude.” Greeted Beelzebub with a wave of their hand. “Do us a quick miracle, will you? I need a bath towel.” They asked with a flourish of their hand.

Michael reached out, miracle-ing a towel. He walked over, looking flabbergasted, and shakily held it out for them. Beelzebub gripped it, relishing how he kept a distance, and they smiled evilly.

They leaned over the bathtub, elegantly holding the towel and looked at them all pointedly, with a twisted smile, “I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?”

Crowley stared at them, and he nodded in agreement. Dagon nodded in shock and fear, as did Ligur who looked like he sucked a lemon. And finally, he looked to Archangel Michael, and he stiffly nodded too.

“Right.” Beelzebub twitched their nose in joy.



“Ah!" Came a posh, and friendly, yet clearly fake voice, "Gabriel." Gabriel just stared at Uriel and Sandalphon, as Aziraphale patted his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, and said cruelly, "so glad you could join us." He moved in front of him.

“You could have just sent a message.” Offered Gabriel with a tight smile, “I mean, a kidnapping in broad daylight.”

"Call it what it was: an extraordinary rendition." Archangel Aziraphale said, his arms out and hands out. He was rather proud of himself for using The Sound of Music against the angel. "Now, have we heard from our new associate?" He questioned, finger pointed, looking over to Sandalphon and Uriel, who stood just a bit from the Archangel.

"He's on his way." Uriel answered.

Aziraphale smiled, and shook his hands in clenched triumph, "he's on his way. I think you're going to like this." He said, hands clasp like he was praying as he walked up to him, "I really do."

Gabriel sent him a look of soft interest.

“And I bet you didn't see this one coming." Aziraphale smirked, now bending down to be at height level with him, praying hands pointed to him.

Gabriel just kept smiling, all nice and kind.

Aziraphale waved his hand, “get it ready, dears.”

Sandalphon and Uriel got to work, setting up white stones in a circle.

Honestly, Aziraphale is angry at the angel for stopping The Great Plan, but not at befriending a demon. I mean, who was Aziraphale to judge? If he was being doubly honest, he’d rather be at The Ritz with His Lord... yes, his... Crowley is his Lord. If She ever found out, if anyone found out, he would Fall if he was lucky, killed if not... would She kill him?

"You don't get this view down in the basement." Said a lower level demon, and Gabriel didn't look up and instead stared at Aziraphale.

Archangel Aziraphale saw the demon, a Disposable Demon, Eric or Legion, whichever you prefer. He marched up to a ring of white brimstone's, and threw down a bunch of black powder from a cauldron. The white stones lit up, and it went up in flames, a tornado like fire of ribbon and string, and Gabriel stared, heat lighting up the side of his face.

"Can I, can I ask a favour? Can I hit him?" Asked Eric, looking to Gabriel, who stared tired. "I've always wanted to hit an angel." He explained, looking to Uriel and Sandalphon.

"Go for it." Sandalphon agreed.

Eric nodded, chest hammering in excitement, and his gaze fell onto Gabriel, who stared unimpressed now. Eric moved in front of Gabriel and got ready, in a stance, fist pulled back.

Gabriel stared, and let his lips pull up into a small, kind smile.

Eric paused in shock, thrown off, swallowing. He stared, and insisted, “I should be going back."

Aziraphale held back a stern eye roll, as if Crowley would want that demon back, or need him. He watched the demon hurry off, back to Hell.

"So, with one act of treason, you averted the War." Aziraphale said, his lips pulled into a disgusted, large frown, as he shook his head.

Gabriel shrugged, a smile still planted on his lips, "well, the greater good—"

"Don't talk to me about the greater good, dear boy." Snapped Aziraphale, cutting the angel off, and Gabriel slowly frowned, "I'm the Archangel fucking Aziraphale. The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all."

Uriel walked over, and she bent down, and pulled the ropes loose with a quick miracle, "up."

Gabriel rolled his wrists, and stood up, straightening his tied scarf. He took a deep breath, walking forward, “I don't suppose I can persuade you to reconsider?” He asked nervously, looking to the unimpressed and none wavering Archangels. “We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven's sake!" Gabriel said, face tense and sad.

"Well, for Heaven's sake," Aziraphale said, hands out. "We are meant to make examples out of Traitors. So..." He gestured to the swirling cylinder of fire, "into the flames." He clasped his hands together again.

They stood and watched him. With a tense sigh, Gabriel walked up to the wall of fire. He smiled to them, “right. Well... lovely knowing you all.” He was gracious and forgiving, “may we meet on a better occasion.”

"Shut your stupid mouth and die already." Snapped Aziraphale, in no mood to keep this game up. He just hoped Beelzebub’s execution was going better for Crowley.

Gabriel scowled at them, and stepped forward and into the flames.

Aziraphale winced and tightened his muscles as if he felt the pain. He waited for the screams, as he felt the rolls evil flicker off the fire... nothing happened. No scream. No fear. No... no ash...

Aziraphale stared at Gabriel, who rolled his shoulders with a pleasant, relaxing hum, his muscles easing. He cracked his neck with three loud sickening cracks. He looked up to the nervous looking Archangels.

Aziraphale looked to Sandalphon in confused worry, and he was tense and nerved

They all stared at Gabriel, they stared at the horrifying scene. Aziraphale was already shaking, because if Gabriel was alive... does that mean Beelzebub is...?

Gabriel gave a wide, sickeningly sweet smile, and scrunched up his face, and let out a loud yell, spitting Hellfire at the Archangels, a blast of it shooting at them.

Aziraphale, Sandalphon and Uriel skipped backwards, falling over themselves, with Sandalphon and Uriel practically in each others arms.

Aziraphale was holding himself, shaking as his eyes were wide in terror and fear. He stared at Gabriel, and pointed in nervous fright, "it may be worse than we thought."

Sandalphon look to him, worried and Uriel rung her tie in fear.

“W-what is he?" Uriel asked, shaking her head in confused fear.

Aziraphale let out a puff of air, shaking his head, and Sandalphon sneered in fear, watching.

It was then the white haired Archangel decided to leave Gabriel alone.



“They survived...” Whispered Crowley, his face pressed into Aziraphale’s chest that night.

They sat at The Ritz, alone and secluded. Eyes passed over them, even for any passing angel or demon.

Aziraphale tightened his grip around the Lord’s back, “so did Gabriel... how... how can an angel and a demon survive Hellfire and Holy Water?!”

“It... it was actual Holy Water too... one of the Usher’s were sacrificed...” Whispered Crowley, his voice had been like that for hours. He had paced and sauntered. He was terrified.

Aziraphale swallowed, “it might not have been Hellfire?”

“No, it wassss... I collected it, I tainted it... would I lie to you, angel?” Questioned Crowley, “maybe it’s was the Eric who messed up?”

“No, he looked just as terrified as I, my love...” Reasoned Aziraphale, swallowing.

Crowley sighed, shaking in fear, “‘Ziraphale... what do we do now?”

“Leave them be, that’s what my dear.” They had survived the execution, and yes, he could use a Flaming Weapon but... well... he didn’t want to... and he could see in Crowley’s eyes, he too didn’t want to.

Out of all the demons to be a Lord, Crowley was the best option. That being because he was, at heart, just a little bit a good person, as Aziraphale had pointed out in the past. He was terrifying and brutal when he had to be, but he wasn’t Evil, he was Bad with a bit of good.

Out of all the angels to be the head Archangel, Aziraphale was the best option. That being because he was, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, as Crowley pointed out. He was reasonable, and he was understanding, but he wasn’t Virtuous, he was Good with a bit of bad.

Maybe that’s why the Lord and Archangel got along so well? Why they too 'fraternised'? Why they Fell in love after six thousand years or just under?

“This all went down like a lead balloon.” Crowley sighed out, cheek pressed gently against the Archangel’s heart, which he rightly owned.

“Yes, rather...” Agreed Aziraphale, straightening out the Lord’s crown.

“You tell them to look through the Back Channels?” Crowley asked suddenly.

Aziraphale scowled, “of course not, those are meant to be used by me and me alone...”

“Hastur picked up, dead now, but still...” Sniffed Crowley, as Back Channels were meant to be used by no one but himself.

Aziraphale sighed, “do you think Gabriel and Beelzebub will be alright?” As I said, Aziraphale is Good with a bit of bad, he will still worry about the angel and demon they failed to execute, but wouldn’t push any further.

“Eh, they’ll be fine. They’ve lived here for six thousand years.” Scoffed Crowley, waving a hand with ease. It’s true, Gabriel and Beelzebub have lived here for years, and nobody checked up on them really. It seemed like they were doing there job. It was Crowley and Aziraphale who sneaked around, careful so nobody saw, “it’s us ‘m worried about.”

“Us?” Questioned Aziraphale, with a confused and worried frown.

“Yeah, if they’re using Back Channels when they shouldn’t be, who knows what they’ve seen?” Crowley insisted, slouching in his chair.

Aziraphale swallowed, picking up his glass of wine, “I’m certain it won’t come to that.”


And who knows? Maybe it will, and maybe it won’t? Nobody can be certain, but one thing is for sure, that one day a certain Lord and Archangel will get their reckoning, but who knows what form of Punishment they will receive?

I suppose I must plan for that now, and give Principality Gabriel and Tempter Beelzebub a break, and focus on my two grey washed, slightly misbehaving sons; Archangel Aziraphale and Lord Crowley.