#mutual pi

      It hadn’t been a shock to the nameless demon when Lucifer had called for him, just for the others to aggressively drag him through the dark and filthy corridors to find him in a big, dim room, sitting upon a makeshift throne. He looked different now, larger, his big, leathery wings spread over the dark throne behind him, the previously perfect, pale skin now dyed a dark red by the blood of the fallen.

      "Satan, we’ve brought him, as you requested," croaked the demon who still had an iron grip on the nameless one’s aching shoulder. The fallen angel raised his eyebrows in amusement.       "Satan? Well, that’s one hell of a name choice."       Satan raised his arm, gesturing to his men dismissively. They immediately let go of the black-winged creature, stumbling back in fear as he fell forwards, down to the ground onto his scuffed up arms, raising his head slightly to playfully bow at the being before him.

      "My old friend, how have you been?" Lucifer’s voice was no longer the smooth one of an angel, it was deep, and intimidating, like a combined roar of a dozen people shouting at once - a sound chilling down to the bone.       "I’m good, really. No complaints here." The nameless demon’s voice was smug and dripping with sarcasm as he stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from the black piece of cloth he was wearing.

      Satan waved his arms towards the other present demons once more, all of them rushing out of the room obediently.

      The dark, red eyes bore into his, and the red-winged creature slowly leaned forward on the throne, an intimidating grin on its face.

      "I have a task for you, an important one. I know you’ll like it, even though you hate me for what I’ve done."       "I don’t - "       "I know, what you think. I know, what you feel. I know you."       The nameless demon swallowed in fear before he realised: He had never been scared of Lucifer, nor was he now, when he had absolutely nothing to lose anymore. He would certainly prefer death, even a slow and painful over spending eternity down here with them, with Him.       Not afraid to show him his mindset, he opened his mouth to throw some mocking sass at him, when Satan cut him off.       "I want you to go back up there and make some trouble. I want you in Her oh-so-perfect world, and I want you to ruin it - for them and for Her."

      The fallen angel didn’t hear Satan’s maniacal laughter that followed his words, too caught up in his own thoughts. He could go back? Back to earth, back to the garden, he could go see his angel again, even if he wouldn’t remember him, could maybe even talk to him?

      His overwhelming emotions left him sobbing internally, struggling to keep his cool exterior in front of the devil.

      "Certainly. I will, Master," he muttered obediently, and Satan nodded, a grin still plastered on his face as he rose an arm towards him.       "Oh, and another thing: You’ll need a body, a corporal one. Something inconspicuous." He snapped his long, bony fingers that were extended towards the nameless demon, and without warning, he could feel himself discorporating, changing and reforming. It wasn’t painful, not the process at least, not until he suddenly solidified on the ground, in a new, smaller body and opened his eyes.       His vision was different, much brighter but less clear, and he flinched as he saw a forked tongue flicker out before his eyes. His tongue, a snake’s tongue. 

      "What should I call you, my friend?"       "I already had a name," he resented, his voice deeper and almost hissing as he spoke.       "I know you did. It’s not yours to claim anymore, neither now nor ever again. Now, you’re just a pathetic, crawly being, that is finally going to corrupt Her greatest creation. Crawley, ha!" Satan slapped the stone armrest of his throne, the sharp claws of his right hand scraping off parts of rock as his ear-splitting laughter made the snake shiver in its newly formed body.       "Well, Crawley, I trust you won’t disappoint me. It’s us against Her now. Do your worst."

⁂

      Crawley was an ethereal being reduced down to its basics, damned to serve Satan and hell for all eternity in doing whatever they asked of him. In his new form, he had to learn everything anew, how to move, how to talk; everything seemed different now. He was able to change his snake-like body back into something that very remotely resembled what he used to look like, at least looking vaguely humanoid with his scrawny build, bony face and fire-red hair.       What he was never able to change, were the eyes, that were now his. Large, greenish-yellow irises, only split by the vertical slits of pupils that always stared back at him creepily from the broken mirror in his quarter (he had broken it in a fit of anger when he had first seen himself in his new form and never bothered to fix it).

      The demon had learned very early on in his demonic existence that, even though he could suffer, and that to great lengths, he could not die (even if he wanted to), at least not through something in his control. It was an epiphany, really. He’d thought having fallen from God’s grace had been the end, but it had rather been the start of something entirely new. This wasn’t necessarily something great or even remotely good, but certainly something new that gave him a purpose, even though he detested it with every fibre of his being.

      He hadn’t had a choice, really, when Satan sent him upwards from hell, burrowing through the holy ground as a dark, miserable snake until he eventually broke through the crusty surface of the garden.       The earth opened above him with an audible crack, and the pleasantly warm soil slid across his scales with ease as the fresh air hit him like a hard slap in the face.       He was back.       He shook off the remains of dirt on his thin body, the once cosy grass burning against his soft underbelly as he crawled towards the woman. The sun heated up his scaly skin in seconds, and he let out a hiss of delight before he started whispering in Eve’s ear. 

⁂

      Tempting them really hadn’t been hard. Just suggesting the mere idea had intrigued her so much, that he didn’t even have to do anything more than watch the events unfold.

      He was observing the two humans climbing through the small hole in the walls of the garden when he suddenly felt Aziraphale’s presence close-by, could sense his inner turmoil and nervousness.       Instinctively, he started crawling up the rough, uneven walls of the garden until he found himself breathless as he reached the ledge right behind the angel’s white wings that rustled in the wind of an upcoming storm. A long feather of the tail ends of his wings brushed over the fallen one’s body as he slithered past him, turning his soul into a shivering mess.

      It had been one of the hardest things Crawley had ever had to do, pretending he didn’t know the beautiful angel stood upon the gates of Eden, gazing into the seemingly endless desert before him. 

      He felt Aziraphale’s lingering stare on him as he assumed his new humanoid form, eyeing him up and down until his head snapped forwards quickly as soon as he laid eyes on the deep black wings the demon unfolded behind himself.       He gave his best to not look at Aziraphale but could see him out of the corner of his eye: a divine image of an angel, white wings and soft fabric fluttering around him. He couldn’t help but notice him anxiously clutching the golden ring on his little finger (which Crawley had gifted him early on in their friendship during his angelic existence), in fact, clutching it so hard that his knuckles were pure white from the pressure. 

      Crawley stretched his wings out comfortably in the upcoming breeze, felt the cold, refreshing wind brush through his long, red curls and stared out into the desert. There was nothing there but light brown dunes for as far as the eye could see, only contrasted by the silhouettes of two humans fearfully striding through the new lands.

      The demon took a deep breath, forcing himself to look forward, as he finally broke the silence.       "Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

      He felt the angel’s gaze back on him as he spoke, his following nervous chuckle sending sharp daggers through his heart as he struggled to casually look in the other direction.

      "Sorry, what was that?" 

      Turning his head towards the angel, he felt his heart speed up immediately, Aziraphale's hesitant gaze on him nervous and confused until their eyes met. For Crawley, it felt like fireworks exploding beneath his skin, a sort of happiness spreading through him he had thought he could never feel again after the fall.        The angel still looked the same, and yet somehow different. His hair was the same, light shade of blond, but more messy and ruffled, his eyes still the same shade he had never seen anywhere else before, a divine combination of green and blue with golden specs scattered throughout, and yet, they looked different. 

      Crawley would only a long time later realise, that this had not to do with Aziraphale's exterior at all, but it was the way he was looking at him in obliviousness that felt so strangely unfamiliar; he hadn’t recognised him.

      As their eyes met and all these thoughts shot through Crawley's head at light speed, he saw the angel flinch slightly, his expression almost shocked for a fraction of a second.       His eyes.        Of course, he had expected this. Many times before had he stared at his own reflection, oftentimes in horror and disgust, but to see his angel so shocked by them somehow hurt even more.

      He felt embarrassed, and it became increasingly hard to keep up his cool exterior.       "I said: Well, that went down like a lead balloon."       "Yes, yes. It did, rather." Aziraphale nodded, looking back and forth between him and Adam and Eve slowly advancing through the sand.       "Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me." Crawley turned slightly towards the angel as he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards slightly as he took in his confused, almost offended facial expression.

      "First offence and everything. I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway." The blond was now seemingly almost at a loss for words, only pulling himself together a few moments later, puffing up his chest slightly.       "Well, it must be bad," he muttered, his eyes now closed as if trying to remember a name he once knew and had now forgotten, as if feeling it just on the tip of his tongue. He really didn’t remember him.

      "Crawley." The demon interrupted, thanked with a court nod.       "Crawley..." He gave him a brief smile, keeping his eyes on him. "Otherwise," he murmured, pausing again for a deep intake of breath, his voice now a little softer as he raised his chin proudly, "you wouldn’t have tempted them into it."       He was fidgeting with his ring again, and his wings twitched slightly as he spoke. 

      "Oh, they just said, 'Get up there and make some trouble'."       "Well, obviously. You’re a demon," Aziraphale replied softly, "it’s what you do." The angel's eyes drifted back to the demon’s black wings, then to the small snake tattoo on his temple. Crawley was overwhelmed once more, for different reasons now. 

      An angel talking to a demon was something, he had expected to be different. He had expected a general kind of condescending attitude, not necessarily arrogant but certainly somewhat biased.       This was not that; the way the angel was treating him was the definition of kindness, with no implied judgement whatsoever. It was almost like he was saying: "It’s what you do, and what you have to do, no judgement here; I know you have to, and you’re doing a marvellous job at it."

      Another long pause seemed to make Aziraphale uncomfortable as he started shifting his weight from one foot to another, however, now more confident in his words and actions, Crawley kept going.       "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though." The angel’s attention was back on him. "Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don’t Touch' sign. I mean, why not put it on top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?"       The angel's eyes widened at his words, nervously flickering towards the light blue sky above, then the dark clouds in the distance.        "Makes you wonder what God’s really planning," Crawley added bluntly, so the angel focused back on him entirely.

      "Best not to speculate," he responded, his eyebrows furrowed as he nodded at the demon, wordlessly nudging him to stop.       "It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand. It’s ineffable." Crawley’s lips quivered with unspoken words, his eyebrows now raised in question.       "The Great Plan’s ineffable?" he questioned, the angel’s eyes now lighting up as he stood a little straighter.       "Exactly." 

      Crawley took in the Aziraphale’s posture, his eyes gliding over his body, landing at his hands once more, this time in bewilderment.        "It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words," the angel continued proudly, as Crawley’s gaze lingered on his hands where fidgety fingers were still turning and twisting the golden ring.       Something was different, something was missing, something - oh.       "Didn’t you have a flaming sword?"

      The angel looked incredibly nervous all of a sudden, his eyes flickering back and forth, settling down on his feet, avoiding eye contact altogether.       "Uh…"       "You did! It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?" The demon kept digging as his gaze left the blond’s hands, sliding back to his highly uncomfortable facial expression.       "Uh…" he stuttered again, his voice quieter and avoiding as he shook his head slightly.       Or had it been taken away after the fall? Maybe talking about it would remind him that there had been something before this, something between them…

      "Lost it already, have you?" Crawley grinned, the situation reminding him of the teasing conversations they had had back in the day about the angel’s clumsiness.       Aziraphale’s head was still pointed to the ground as he blushed heavily, turning his head the other way, his voice almost inaudible as he answered.        "Gave it away." 

      "You what?!" Crawley raised his eyebrows in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as the angel met his gaze with a tormented expression.        "I gave it away..." His eyes were full of worry and concern, and Crawley couldn’t help but smile as the angel kept talking. "There are vicious animals. It’s going to be cold out there, and she’s expecting already. And I said, 'Here you go. Flaming sword. Don’t thank me. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.'" Aziraphale inhaled deeply, pausing as if giving Crawley time to interject, but the demon was at a loss for words.

      The angel had directly disobeyed God. He had been so worried about the two outcasts and their future, that he had promptly, and without asking for permission, given away the only material thing She had ever given him.

      "I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing," Aziraphale uttered, staring upon the humans once more. Crawley was still lost in thought. He hadn’t wanted them to be defenceless and suffer needlessly, so he’d just given it away. How could a single creature be so unalterably kind? He recomposed himself.

      "Oh, you’re an angel, I don’t think you can do the wrong thing." Their eyes were glued to each other as they spoke, Aziraphale’s face suddenly overcome by an even bigger blush, his eyes full of relief as a hesitant smile played around his features.       "Oh, oh thank - oh, thank you. Oh, it’s been bothering me." His lips curled upwards in a genuine smile that sent butterflies surging through Crawley’s stomach, interrupted by a lion’s roar. 

      Another one of the garden’s inhabitants had made it outside of Eden’s guarding walls and was now viciously attacking Adam, who had shoved Eve behind him protectively.

      "I’ve been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business?" Crawly admitted, just as Adam swung the angel’s flaming sword towards the lion.       "A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing." His eyes swung back to Aziraphale’s coy smile that suddenly fell as Adam dealt a fatal blow on the lion.       The change of his expression went straight to his heart, and he felt overcome by the sudden desire to make him smile again, just somehow...       "It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." 

      He forced himself into his best little smile and a gravelly chuckle as the angel’s expression morphed into a confused smile, and a small chuckle escaped his lips as well, before he broke eye contact and the smile fell instantly.       "No!" His face was now visibly offended. "It wouldn’t be funny at all!"       The angel’s blunt change of tone almost sobered Crawley up, putting him back into his place. An angel and a demon, nothing more.       He still couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice as he answered: "Well…"

      The dark curtains of clouds had almost reached their peak over them, when, suddenly, thick droplets of crystal-clear water began falling from the sky, running down Crawley's nose as streaks of pure white broke through the stormy blanket of grey before them, bright, forked bolts of lightning soaring through the graphite sky just before the roaring crash of thunder that followed.       Taking an instinctive step sideways towards the angel, he heard a faint rustle next to him, suddenly not feeling any more drops hitting him. Noticing the edges of light feathers dangle almost out of his field of vision, he quickly realised Aziraphale had shielded him from the rain with his wing, and he could have cried out loud in simultaneous love and frustration.

      Crawley knew, if he hadn’t already been in love with the angel that stood next to him, this would have been the exact moment he would have fallen in love. The angels hands tightly folded before him, a small content smile on his lips as his beautiful eyes followed the rainclouds, his bright hair slowly sticking to his pale skin, yet he only thought of shielding the demon from the previously unknown phenomenon of rain.

      How could a single being be so loving and compassionate, even towards a demon, his hereditary enemy? How could Aziraphale be like this to him, even now, not knowing him?

      Crawley sobbed internally and took a deep, shuddering breath that he hoped the angel hadn’t noticed.

      He might have forgotten all about him, but he could certainly get to know him all over again and there was always a chance that he would remember.       One day.