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Language:
English
Series:
Part 20 of Good Omens Angst & Whump
Collections:
Rare Omens, febuwhump 2022, Ineffably Sweet & Spicy February
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Published:
2022-02-09
Updated:
2022-02-10
Words:
1,177
Chapters:
2/?
Comments:
33
Kudos:
58
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2
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675

What Demons Do

Summary:

"I have a different name now. An old name."

Written for:
- Febuwhump Day 9: "Kidnapped"
- Rare Omens Day 9: "Angel!Crowley / Demon!Aziraphale"
- Ineffably Sweet(& Spicy) Day 9: "Broken Vows"

Notes:

I'm back with another super random drabble!

This one is full of emotional angst, but no particular warnings apply, I think. Still, please do read the tags carefully.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Crowley had lied to him.

The time in Hell was 'always too late', Crowley had proclaimed once or twice, maybe in jest. It was difficult to tell sometimes, even for the angel, who knew him better than anyone. 

And now he knew him inside out in the most visceral sense. The secret ways in which Crowley's stomach churned and his knees trembled and ten long fingers rubbed together for comfort...

The time in Hell did not seem too late right now. It was a soul-numbing, never-ending too early.  

Not that Aziraphale's senses were on hand to support the sinking feeling. That free-fall inside his chest. There was nothing to cling to but the damp, heavy darkness waiting around him; with him; for him?

It was, of course, to be expected, he told the sharp teeth nibbling at his entrails. A trial would take a while to set up after he had been kidnapped and dragged here. The jury had to be assembled; the charges reviewed; the opening statements written.

Someone would come for him soon enough. He would play his role, act the part, just like they had practised. And then it would all be over.

Everything would be over.

Why did the thought feel so final, like a full stop to his heart? And once it took up its broken rhythm—why was it pumping hot ink through his veins, as if re-writing him, every muscle and bone and strained nerve in this ill-fitting corporation, no, far deeper than that—

Aziraphale's knees gave in with a sudden crack and he dropped to the floor. Looked at his hands splayed across the mud. He could see his hands. Watched the manicured nails harden to claws. The darkness was—no, not lifting. It was settling; making room for him to be a part of it.

What—

It didn't hurt. Pain would have been an act of self-defence, and he wasn't capable of that, scattered in the dirt like a broken clay pigeon. Something cold and scaly scraped across his forehead. It was making a nest in his curls, a nimble tail tickling his temple.

What is—

The door opened, finally, finally! There would be a meaning to it all. He would come to his senses. To his senses—

A cold snap of fingers flooded the room with light. His tiny cell; the space before it that was reserved for guards—and visitors?

It took Aziraphale a moment before realisation hit and choked and kicked him in the gut. He knew this Crowley. He'd known him some time before he knew time. A Crowley with eyes as brown as the earth that did not exist back then.

"I'm sorry."

The voice carried enough agony to fill endless halls of white. But it was calm. Perfectly calm. 

"What—"

Aziraphale clasped the bars, pulling himself to unsteady feet, hands slipping on rough lead.

"Crowley—what did you do?"

"I have a different name now. An old name."

"How—"

"They found out. I had to negotiate, for both our sakes. This was the best I could do. At least, you're alive."

It did not feel like that, not at all. There was no part of Aziraphale that wasn't dying.

"How could you—we made a vow—"

"I cut a deal. It's what demons do."

Not one ember of Crowley's fire remained in that grieving smile.

"It's what—you demons do."

Once the angel had left, Aziraphale lifted a shaky hand to touch the creature resting in his hair. It felt strangely comforting.

 

Notes:

Nine days of Febuwhump completed, wahoo!

Comments are always welcome. :)

Chapter 2

Summary:

Well, I had no idea this would happen, but I fell in love with this verse, and today's Febuwhump prompt "How long has it been?" gave me the perfect opportunity to expand it.

This chapter is a little more fun now as Aziraphale starts to come to terms with his new home...

Notes:

I know the update is very short, but with the daily prompt challenges I can only write a little every day.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

How long had it been since Crowley left and took the light with him?

It was hard to tell, though the newly branded demon's surroundings were no longer a uniform clot of viscous black. Hell was opening up to him, slowly but irresistibly, like hungry jaws smiling around crooked canines. A wicked grin that was strangely inviting.

By now, he could see his cell in more grimy detail than he cared for: the stained mattress underneath his ribs, simultaneously stone hard and too soft for comfort; the grey metal bars, each one boasting a wildly different width; the door with its torn poster advising 'Do not feed your dead skin to the spiders! (They're on a special diet!)'

From beyond that door wafted a heavy aroma of chargrilled meat; it smelled a bit like chicken, but something told him that it wasn't chicken. Still, he could not help but feel his mouth water, thick saliva pooling behind teeth too pointy for his tongue.

There was sound, too. It took the demon some time to realise that the sonorous, metallic pulse was more than just his heartbeat. After a while, the achingly familiar notes and phrases started to peel themselves from the thudding beat and he chuckled; a dry, bitter sound that was new to his throat. It was a curiously percussion-heavy rendition of Beethoven's Ninth. That bit, then, Crowley had not lied about: Hell did have the better taste in music.

Joy indeed.

The demon sat up, grasping at each distorted chord, like a gossamer thread of broken light. A cool little paw was gently patting his forehead.

"It's just me and you now, little guy."

He wasn't quite ready to try and find out what it was that had made a home in his hair. But he was glad not to be alone, at least.

"Just me and—"

The door croaked open, making him jump to his feet. Crowley was back! Of course he was, what a silly misunderstanding, or an unsavoury joke, perhaps, it would all be resolved in a jiffy—

But the figure framed by dusty blue light wasn't any demon he knew. This one had dark eyes and even darker hair spilling in messy braids over his pale skin.

"Hey, noob."

The recently fallen angel gave an indignant huff, straightening his clothes. Crowley's clothes. He felt a sudden urge to undress and rather be in the buff than wearing those. Strangely enough, the impulse did not come with its expected dose of shame.

"What's your name?"

He opened his mouth for the leading vowel and out came—nothing. Another try, another quiet exhale; only this time, he wasn't even sure what he meant to say.

"Nah, not that one, silly," his opposite laughed out heartily. "That one's gone now. Buh-bye. Gotta choose your own name 'round these parts."

"Ch-choose..?"

"Yap. New concept, huh?"

"I—" the nameless demon leaned his pounding forehead against the bars, "I don't—"

"Hey! Don't squish your axolotl buddy!"

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry—"

An axolotl! It could have been worse.

He moved away from the bars while the other demon stepped closer, maybe to punch him, or—

The sound of a key turning in the lock was a symphony in itself.

"'s fine. You don't have to choose straight away. Come out, then."

"Beg your pardon?" 

"You wanna stay rotting in that cell?"

"Well, no, but—"

"There's only one kind of butts 'round here, mate, and trust me, you're not ready for that yet. C'mon."

 


Thank you Nenchen for the poster design! :D

Notes:

Should I write more of this?

Series this work belongs to: