Chapter Text
His wings were on fire. He could smell the feathers burning. Flames flared all around him as fell from grace. Fell from Heaven. It had been longer than the world had existed since an angel had fallen. He would be the first fall since the Fall, wouldn’t he? He’d known for a long time that he’d fall. Despite all of Crowley’s reassurances and protection, falling was always in the cards for him. He’d lied directly to God, Herself after all. Back when he had given away his sword to Adam and Eve. Before he had met the demon that sweet, curious, always questioning angel who had brought the stars into being had become for that first time up on the wall of Eden.
He wasn’t sad about his fate as a fallen angel, no matter how much he had fought against it and feared it in the past. He felt a grin on his lips. He was ready now. Heaven was beyond repair, beyond redemption. He knew that now. There was no hope for Heaven left in him.
With a smile, Aziraphale landed in a pit of sulfur.
This Is Hell, We Have A Little Something Called Standards
Crowley screamed and surged forward, catching his throat on the dagger pressed against it, as Michael pushed Aziraphale from Heaven. As he watched, his Angel’s wings caught fire. He fell to his knees and Sandalphon didn’t bother to stop him. This was his worst fear come true. Aziraphale’s worst fear come true. His sweet, bastard of an angel had always feared becoming one of the Fallen. Now his Angel was one of them. Tears fell from Crowley’s eyes unbidden.
The Metatron came to stand before him, blocking his view of his falling Angel. He looked up at the Metatron, a glare on his face. The bastard just smiled at him. “Fret not, demon. You’ll be reunited with that traitor soon enough. Not that he’ll remember you. What with his memories being Fallen and all.” The bastard’s grin grew. “Break his wings, then toss him after the traitor.”
This Is Hell, We Have A Little Something Called Standards
He clawed his way from the sulfur. A hand reached out to him, he took it without hesitation. Looking up, he smiled. The face looking down at him with so much concern was as familiar as his own. He was pulled to his feet.
“Hello, Crowley.”
“You, you remember.”
Aziraphale chuckled. “Of course I do. You think that I would let 6,000 years be erased just like that?” He reached out and cupped Crowley’s cheek. “Our time together means far too much to me for that to happen. You mean too much to me to let that happen.”
“Angel.” Crowley whispered.
Aziraphale laughed. “Well not so much anymore.”
Crowley pulled him in close and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. “You’ll always be my Angel, Aziraphale.” He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The new demon didn’t hesitate to return the kiss this time. He let the 6,000 years of desire swell up and sweep him away.
Crowley pulled away and looked at his Angel. Behind them the sound of a throat clearing sounded. They turned to see a demon. “Shax, wants to meet the new Fallen.”
This Is Hell, We Have A Little Something Called Standards
Hell was all abuzz with the news of a new fallen angel. The halls were packed with demons trying to get a glimpse of the new Fallen as Crowley and Aziraphale were led to the council’s chambers and an awaiting Shax. When the doors to the council’s chambers opened, a gasp sounded from the Grand Duke. “Aziraphale.”
The new demon laughed. “The one and the same.”
Shax sat back in her throne and acted as if she hadn’t just been shocked. “Welcome to Hell.”
“Hmm. I would say thank you, but I believe that you’ll find that I hold no bonds to Hell.”