#but he also asked aziraphale for insurance. that's how crowley operates

[lenaellsi]

i've mentioned this before and it's a Hot Take maybe but. i don't think it's fair at all to characterize crowley's "you and me, what do you say?" speech from s2 as being equivalent to "fuck the earth run away with me to the stars right now" a la season 1

i guess i can see why it might come off that way, with gabriel and beelzebub having just left and crowley drawing the comparison to them, but a lot of people have sort of extrapolated from that this dichotomy where suddenly aziraphale is the one who cares about saving the world and crowley only cares about himself and aziraphale. and while i think crowley certainly prioritizes their mutual safety and is more likely to get spooked when faced with threats from heaven (i wonder why) crowley also loves earth?? he talks about it all the time.

the last time there was an apocalypse, crowley was the one who proposed saving the world, and he had to talk aziraphale into it. and like...he was planning breakfast at the ritz, wasn't he? he didn't want to leave. obviously "you can't leave this bookshop" meant "you can't leave me," but it also LITTLE bit meant the bookshop, and earth.

the circumstances of s1 were very different than the end of s2. crowley only wanted to run in s1 when 1) the end was about 4 hours away, 2) from his POV he and aziraphale had no idea where the antichrist was, so they wouldn't be able to stop anything even if they did stay to die with the humans, 3) aziraphale was about to Talk To Heaven the same way crowley tried to before the Fall, 4) demons were actively pursuing him for purposes of torture and annihilation. and in the end, he STILL stayed.

idk. if we're going to give aziraphale the benefit of the doubt for the Many Things he said in that convo, then i think we can afford to give crowley the benefit of the doubt that "we need to get away from them" and "go off together" might mean something more along the lines of "please don't go back to heaven, stay with me, it can be the two of us against them all." THAT was what crowley's emotional arc this season was leading to, with the flashbacks and his big revelation in ep 5, the same way aziraphale's was leading to leaving. every single one of the flashbacks had crowley choosing to help someone else at great personal risk--why would that lead to the conclusion that he actually wants to leave without trying to help? (of course, he did want to abandon gabriel. but I don't think that was even a little bit irrational after aziraphale's failed execution. walking away from the heavenly host who has done nothing but hurt both of them is not the same as walking away from earth. it's still a problem--ignoring heaven and hell will not, ultimately, fix anything--but again, it's not the same as abandoning humanity on a whim.)

TL;DR I don't think it's a fair reading to say that crowley's proposed solution to The Heaven And Hell Problem is "fuck humanity, let's give up." i think he was proposing working together against heaven and hell with the option of an exit strategy if everything went wrong, which is what he ALWAYS tries to do. (see: arrangement + holy water.) his need for an escape route and his tendency to prepare for the worst is something that is definitely hindering him in, for example, his relationship with aziraphale, but it also makes sense. because, you know. the last time he tried doing anything about heaven he got his wings lit on fire. so.

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Mark 10:42-45

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Well, this is already longer than it was supposed to get and is nowhere near done. Go me. Next chapter will have a bit of a time skip at the beginning.

*** 

“Did you just… print out everything?”

“Only the important things. The entirety of the file is in the archives for consultation - I don’t think it was fully digitalized - but this should do to help us remember.”

Uriel and Sandalphon exchanged a glance, then they both reached to take the folders Michael was handing to them, both of them full to bursting. And heavy, too. Uriel opened hers, and flipped through a few pages. Michael had written and printed out a short summary. A relatively short summary, considering that Gabriel’s existence spanned eons and plenty of things had happened in that time. Plenty of memories that kept slipping through their fingers. 

“Remembering facts about him is not the same thing as remembering him,” she muttered, and sighed. “How long before we can no longer recall why didn’t want to forget him?”

Michael’s expression hardened. “Do you have a better idea?” she asked, her voice cold, causing Sandalphon to shift away a little. 

Michael and Uriel had… disagreed very few times before, but Sandalphon had learned that, whenever it happened, it might just be safer to chill in an entirely different galaxy until they had worked things out. Last time, a few centuries earlier, he and Gabriel had hung about Orion’s Belt for a while, claiming they had been sent there on a mission while they had actually been sitting down for what would have been the longest game and most savage of Uno on record, had anyone ever recorded it. Sandalphon had won; a nice memory, that. And fading fast. 

Unaware of his thoughts, Uriel shook her head. “No,” she conceded. “No better ideas. Are you still going to get in touch? He… made it plain our presence unsettles him,” she added. A very polite way to put it, considering that seeing them made Gabriel scream and flail.

Michael sighed. “He won’t have to endure our presence,” she said. “Not unless he calls for us.”

***

“Gabriel! You finally answered! I sent you a text, did you see it?”

“Uuugh,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing his eyes. What time was it? How long had he slept? Were Aziraphale and his demon still-- ah, yes, there they were, sitting at the other hand of the room and staring at him, each with a raised eyebrow. Gabriel pulled himself upright, causing the blanket to fall off him on the floor. “A text? No, I didn’t. What-- when-- the interview! Did you get the job?” he asked.

“I did!” Daniel exclaimed, exactly as the demon scoffed. 

“I told him he would, why the surprise...” he muttered, but Gabriel barely heard him: he just smiled, running a hand through his hair to brush it back. 

“That’s amazing news. When do you start--”

“They’re looking for a supervisor.”

“... Oh? I thought you were there for a position as a… spoon… lift?”

“What-- fork, Gabriel, a forklift operator,” Daniel laughed, clearly elated. “Yes, I did. But they also need a supervisor or two and have just started looking. I thought-- you mentioned you were a supervisor once, no? Or a chief of staff, something like that?”

“I… you could say that, yes.”

“Then send them your CV, the link is in the text!”

“My-- oh. Of course. That. Yes. I’ll… do that.”

“Great! Good luck with that - they offer accommodation and all. Not that Southampton is that far, but better than commuting, no?”

“Absolutely,” Gabriel agreed, taking a mental note to look up what ‘commuting’ meant. After the call ended after a few more pleasantries, he looked up to see both the demon and Aziraphale were staring at him. 

“... What, are you seriously going through with it?” Crowley asked. Gabriel frowned.

“Were you eavesdropping everything?”

“You had the speaker on, genius. Don’t dodge the question - am I really hearing the Archangel Fucking Gabriel thinking of getting a human job?”

You are the Archangel Gabriel no longer, Metatron’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. It hurt, it truly did, but he saw the truth of it now. And, at least, he had some hope. 

God forsakes no one, the Voice of God had said. 

He lied, a voice he couldn’t place whispered in the back of his mind. Hypocrisy in every word.

God asks of you what they ask of every mortal. Faith.

God has forsaken you.

Go through your mortal life, have faith, and do your best.

It gets easier once you accept it.

“I…” Gabriel’s voice faltered, and he swallowed before he spoke again. “I have little choice, do I? If I am to go through this life as a mortal, then… then I will do that. Besides, I can’t sit by doing nothing. I’m not wired for inaction,” he added, and turned back to them. Aziraphale was looking at him with calm understanding, and Gabriel smiled weakly.

I think you have figured out more than you think, Aziraphale had said. Gabriel still had no idea what he meant, what was it he had supposedly figured out, but… he could try to believe him. He had been right about the Ineffable Plan, clearly, when everyone else had been wrong.

He wasn’t certain he could have faith in God now, but he could try to have some in an angel who could step into Hellfire, come out unscathed, and somehow find it in himself to offer his help and forgiveness without Gabriel doing anything to earn either.

“Well then,” Aziraphale finally said, “I suppose it is time to work on your CV.”

Oh. That. “... I never wrote a CV in my entire existence. I was created for my role.”

“Ah, it shouldn’t be too hard. You just lie.”

“Embellish, Crowley. You embellish your--”

“You lie a lot. Everyone lies on their CV. And on the cover letter. And in interviews,” the demon replied, and shrugged when Gabriel glanced over. “So if you want to have more than a snowball’s chance in Hell - and trust me, I know what I’m talking about there - you’ve got to do it as well. Aside for the tiny little detail that no one would believe a word of your real references, you really don’t want them to know your previous employment ended with a… well…”

“Forcible termination,” Gabriel finished. Crowley made a face.

“Was that how you were going to put down Aziraphale’s-- ugh. Never mind. Do you even have a national insurance numb--”

“He does now,” Aziraphale said lightly, and turned back to Gabriel. “One more frivolous miracle to add to the list, I suppose. Do you mind?”

Like he had a say on the matter anymore. Gabriel averted his eyes. “... Thank you,” he murmured.

“You’re quite welcome. Do put down my number, in case they want to check your references. Now, I believe I might have a book somewhere explaining how to best write a CV…”

***

“You know this is ridiculously useless, don’t you? You don’t need to actually know that stuff.”

“I do need to know it if I am to do a decent job.”

“What do you care? That angel is such a bleeding heart, you know he’ll miracle you into passing the interview like he did for your human friend.”

“That was the demon, really.”

“... What?”

“The demon did the miracle.”

“What.”

“I thought the same thing,” Gabriel said, and turned a page. There were… a lot of things a warehouse supervisor was supposed to be knowledgeable about, including a lot about health and safety, which made sense given how fail mortal lives were. Luckily, Gabriel had an excellent memory; he was rather certain he could memorize all he needed to know before the interview.

Before him, Beelzebub was frowning. They had invited themselves to the table Gabriel was sitting at in the café, ordering a black coffee they had yet to touch. At the far end of the room, employees were discreetly trying to shoo away an unusual amount of flies that kept trying to land on the food on display. Which they would go on to sell anyway. 

“Demons are not supposed to perform miracles,” Beelzebub muttered, looking rather offended. 

“Demons are not supposed to splash around in holy water while asking for a rubber duck, either,” Gabriel pointed out, turning another page. “And yet.”

“Hmph.” Beelzebub made a face, and glared down at the coffee like it was responsible for the entire mess. “I should have asked for something more complicated to make,” they finally muttered. “To ruin the barista’s day a little.”

“You’re ruining mine, if it helps,” Gabriel said drily.

“It does,” was the reply, startlingly sincere. They leaned back, watching him closely as he tried to focus on the book, then suddenly kicked his shin under the table, causing Gabriel to yelp. 

“Ow! What was that abou--”

“I didn’t tell you you could ignore me.”

“You’re insufferable, and I have no more time for you. I have to learn all that there is to learn from this material obj-- book. From this book.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. When they spoke again, they sounded vaguely offended. "I still don't understand. You'd seriously lower yourself to this you consider my more than generous offer to join me in Hell?"

"Absolutely."

"You're an idiot," the Prince of Hell snapped, anger leaking into their voice. "God didn't explain a thing, didn't make any promises. Just demanded faith, as usual. And you're still going to do as they say, after what was done to you!"

"Anything is preferable to Hell."

"You don't know until you try."

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the book. "And if I try and find I hate it, you'll just let me go?"

"Of course not."

Gabriel’s eyes shifted back to the book. "I'll pass."

"And it will be for nothing. God is going to change the rules on you, you'll see. Just so that they can screw you over a bit further."

Gabriel tried to keep his expression neutral, gaze fixed on the book like nothing of what he was hearing got under his skin, but he couldn't quite hide how those words cut. Beelzebub could certainly see it in the thin line of his mouth and the needlessly tight grip on the book, and immediately doubled down. 

"Isn't that what already happened? You did best, and suddenly the rules changed on you."

"I... acted out of arrogance--"

"Oh, please, spare me the self-blame God drilled in your brain. But that’s what you are - once a servant, always a servant. God is prick. That's all that there is to say. A Great Plan to follow, and you did your utmost to see it through - then the one who got in the way has their protection, and you are thrown out for trying to deal with a traitor the way deserve to be dealt with."

“I should have never attempted to destroy Aziraphale. It had nothing to do with the Great Plan. I only acted out of anger.”

“Maybe that was just God’s excuse. Maybe they planned on throwing you out for failing to see the Great Plan through, after all. You were created to serve God, and failed.”

Gabriel finally looked up from the book, glaring. Beelzebub met his gaze, clearly satisfied for succeeding in getting a raise out of him. He forced himself to keep his voice even as he spoke. 

“God needs no excuses to exert their will.”

“So, they need no reason to tear out your wings and cast you out, is what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I said,” Gabriel protested, desperately trying to shut down that part of his mind whispering that Beelzebub had a point. No, no, no - he couldn’t acknowledge that, couldn’t think like that. He needed to have faith, it was all that was asked of him. “God’s ways are mysterious, and the fact that I can’t understand their reasons doesn’t mean there aren’t--”

“And yet you’re desperate to go back to being a lapdog for a master you won’t tell you what they want of you.”

“Faith, that is what they want--”

“And this is where faith has brought you,” Beelzebub snorted, gesturing around them with a hand. The cafe was mostly empty; a girl at the far end seemed to have fallen asleep over her laptop. “You never doubted God, and here you are. Why remain loyal to a master like that? One who never even speaks to you? If you join me in hell--”

“Am I supposed to believe Satan wouldn’t destroy you in case of failure?” Gabriel snapped. 

Beelzebub looked at him like he was a complete idiot. “Of course he would, but then all you have to do is not to fail. Satan’s orders are always pretty damn clear, and they’re upfront about what happens to you if you disobey. You follow the very clear orders, and you can’t go right.”

“You mean you can’t go wron--”

“No. I know exactly what I meant to mean.” Beelzebub waved a hand dismissively. “I challenged God, and I am the Prince of Hell. You did nothing but obey your entire existence, and you are nothing. Cast out without wings, without powers. I have both.”

The ragged scars over Gabriel’s shoulder blades seemed to burn, and he clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the phantom pain in a part of him that was no more. Good wings, strong wings, white as snow and strong as the tide. And they were gone.

“Maybe you were the one on the wrong side of the battlefield, after all,” Beelzebub mused, leaning forward and causing Gabriel to rear back. Yes, the battlefield. He remembered soaring over it, remembered the fight - the clash of swords and spears, scorching fire and holy water. 

He was never the warrior Michael was, but he could hold his own. He’d brought messages across the battlefield to keep the Heavenly army fighting as one, and he’d struck down several demons, he… he...

“You lost the Battle,” Gabriel snapped. “I struck you down, and--”

Beelzebub scowled. “You did not!” they replied, sounding rather offended. “It was Michael, that wanker, but someday--”

“No, you were…” Gabriel frowned, trying to focus. Something was there, a memory beneath the vague recollection of the Battle; until then it had been impossible for him to remember much, the action too frantic and details slipping away from him the more he focused… but now he found it was easier to remember. And he remembered something, a moment of stillness in the chaos. 

Gabriel, what are you waiting for? Strike them down!

“I had a spear, and your sword was broken…” 

“All you had was that stupid trumpet you always-- agh!”

Ba’al! Strike now!

Under Gabriel’s stunned gaze, Beelzebub let out a groan and grabbed their head with a pained grimace. With the mind’s eye he saw what had been an angel, a long time ago, exhausted and struggling to stand up before him… and then coming to a standstill.

He’d almost struck Beelzebub down, yes. But he did not. He could not.

And Beelzebub hadn’t struck him. They could have. They did not.

“... Ba’al.” The name came to his lips with no thought at all; at first he didn’t even realize it had been him to speak it. It caused Beelzebub to recoil and tear their hands off their head, glaring up at him with savage fury, pain, and something remarkably close to fear.

“Stop,” they buzzed, wide-eyed, teeth bared. “Stop this instant, I command you!”

“I knew you. That was your name, wasn’t it, from before the Fa--”

“We are not meant to remember things from before!” The buzzing grew louder, furious. “I demand you cease it now!”

They seemed to be-- they were in physical pain. The realization made Gabriel’s mind reel; angels could not remember the Fallen either, because God clearly willed as much, but the futile attempts at doing so never caused pain. Clearly, Satan had put a demonic twist to the rule.

But Gabriel was an archangel no longer; he could remember, and he found he couldn’t keep himself from trying to bring up as much as he could. He’d never been curious about what they had forgotten about, but now… now he was. Curiosity was, after all, a human trait. What had got Adam and Eve kicked out of Eden, but at the moment he was too overwhelmed to think of that.

The more he focused, the more he could recall; bits and pieces, far from a complete picture, but it was more than he’d ever managed to put together. And it seemed that he did, after all, have some sort of weapon he could use to chase away the Lord of the Flies.

“... I tried to warn you,” he said slowly, the memory so vague it may as well have been a dream. “You were hanging with the wrong people. Questioning too much. I tried to convince you--”

 A snarl, and Beelzebub’s eyes flashed with flame before turning completely black. Above them, flies buzzed furiously against the ceiling. “You shut that stupid mouth this very instant, or else--!”

“Gabriel!”

As Daniel’s voice rang out, Gabriel went through two very different emotions: relief that the conversation had been interrupted before things got ugly - why did he think it a good idea to anger a being who could smother him with a gesture again? - and sudden terror that Beelzebub might turn their fury on him. And for a moment, their eyes all black, they looked like they might. 

“Please,” Gabriel whispered, his voice barely audible. 

Don’t harm him. I let you Mark me so you wouldn’t harm him.

The change was so quick, Gabriel would have missed if he blinked. The blackness was gone from Beelzebub’s eyes, and they turned to look at Gabriel with a flat, utterly uninterested look. They looked fairly normal, aside for the fact they looked like they had dressed in the dark, but then again most people in London did. Gabriel found they no longer had the style they used to.

Daniel didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. He just walked up to them, smiled, and patted Gabriel’s shoulder. “You really got the interview, then? Good luck! Hopefully we’re going to be colleagues, huh?” he smiled broadly, and finally glanced at Beelzebub. If he thought anything of their rather bizarre attire, he said nothing of it. But then again he’d lived in London for a long time, watching people show up at Tesco Express in their pajamas. “Friend of Gabriel, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel,” he said, holding out his hand. 

Beelzebub looked at it like Daniel had just handed them a dead fish; it likely didn’t happen often that a mortal walked up to them and tried to shake their hand. They glanced over at Gabriel, who realized he had about thirty seconds to avert a crisis. 

“Er… yes, this is Beel--” Gabriel began, only to pause when it truly hit him how much of a bad idea saying that aloud would be. From the other side of the table, Beelzebub managed to convey without words that they thought he was an utter idiot, but offered no help.

Ba’al, he thought, but he still remembered so little attached to that name, the memory barely uncovered… and besides it would undoubtedly cause fury he rather wanted to avoid. In the end, Gabriel forced the smile back on. 

“... Bill,” he finished.

Beelzebub’s retaliation came swiftly in the form of a kick on the shin, but they didn’t contradict him, and Gabriel decided he could count himself lucky for that. And the fact he’d gotten away with only a kick in the shin in the first place.

Luckily, Daniel didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Or maybe there was something there, hesitation as he stared at the Prince of Hell - it would occur to Gabriel only later that he was trying to assign them a gender - but he said nothing of it. “Nice to meet you, Bill,” was all he said. “Do you mind if I join--”

“I have urgent matters to attend,” Beelzebub said, and stood suddenly, nearly knocking back the chair. They turned to glare at Gabriel, eyes icy. “Do think of what I told you,” they muttered, and marched off without a word. The door opened, slammed closed, and they were gone - as were the flies that had been buzzing by the ceiling. Daniel blinked.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“... They had a headache,” Gabriel replied, and forced himself to tear his gaze off the door. The realization was staggering - that they’d known each other before the Fall, that Gabriel had tried to warn them against the wrong sort of companies, that they had stood before one another during the Battle without either being able to lift the weapon on the other - but Beelzebub was gone, and Gabriel chose to chase it all from his mind for the time being.

It no longer mattered whether they had known each other. That part of his existence was over.

He had other matters to attend, too. 

It gets easier once you accept it.

***

“Crowley?”

“Angel.”

“Do you think we knew each other?”

“... Huh?” Crowley blinked, glancing over. Aziraphale was leaning on the bench’s backrest, staring at the waterfowl and uncharacteristically uninterested in the ice cream cone in his hand. “We have known each other for a good while, no?”

“Before the Fall, I mean.”

Ah, now that was… something Crowley had never considered. He never even tried to remember anything from that time, because it hurt like a mallet to the brain and honestly, he could do without it. And it wouldn’t work, anyway. “Guess it’s possible,” he conceded. “But unlikely. There was… what, twenty million between all of us?” he shrugged, leaning back. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Ah, yes. It makes sense,” he said, and glanced down at his cone to notice that an especially brave - and fat - squirrel was now sapling it, standing on his knee. He chuckled, and lowered it a little to make it easier to reach. “Well-- it doesn’t really matter, does it? We know each other well enough now.”

Crowley grinned. “No,” he agreed, and reached into his pocket to pull out something - a pace torn out of an old newspaper. “So, uh, about the idea we had to move to the South Downs…”

Aziraphale glanced over to see a picture of green hills beneath a blue sky. It looked… quite heavenly, really. Then he read the name, and burst out laughing, scaring the squirrel away. 

Devil’s Dyke Walking Trails, the title read. Devil’s Dyke is perfect for a summer walk.

“Oh!” Aziraphale snickered, reaching up to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, dear. Summer is nearing its end though, isn’t it?”

“Is that a no?” Crowley asked, trying to sound like he wouldn’t especially care either way and failing rather spectacularly.

Aziraphale smiled. “Why, not at all. But perhaps we should see how it is in summer, before we decide. A brief visit to get the feel of it before autumn entirely settles in.”

Crowley’s attempt at a neutral expression turned into a smirk. “Tomorrow?” he asked, hopeful.

Ah, he was supposed to open the store the next day, maybe for a couple of hours in the afternoon, but as Gabriel was already headed to Southampton for the interview he was sure to pass, there was no real reason to do so. His smile widened.

"Tomorrow sounds lovely.”

***

The letter was on the desk of Gabriel’s hotel room before he even walked in. A simple sheet of paper, no envelope, and the handwriting - ah, he knew it well. How many times had he gone over paperwork Michael filled up? 

The notion that Michael knew where he was filled him with dread, but he didn’t turn and run. He looked around, yes, but found that the room was empty, and he relaxed a little, the hammering of his heart slowing down. He stepped forward and stared at the piece of paper for a long time, Crowley’s words eching in his mind. 

Had it been you receiving the order and Michael the one on the ground, would you have refused to do what God asked of you?

No. No, he wouldn’t have. He would have done precisely the same, while hating every moment of it. Anyone can be loyal and obedient when the orders are easy to follow; the real test comes when they are… not. And he’d have been just as loyal to God as they were.

Once a servant, always a servant.

With a sense of shame heavy in his chest - how wrong it seemed, feeling shame for his utter devotion to the Almighty - Gabriel finally stepped forward, picked up the letter, and began to read.

***

Gabriel, I do hope you are as well as you can be, given the circumstances. I understand you have no wish to see us, and we will not impose.  We cannot begin to understand God’s reasons to order such a thing of us, and to punish you alone. All we knew was that we owed obedience. We never wished for any harm to come to you. I hope you know that. Should you ever need us, all you need to do is call out our names, and we’ll be there. Always. Michael.

***

For a very long time, Gabriel - once the Archangel Gabriel, now a human to be known as Gabriel F. Archer - kept reading those words over and over, a knot in his throat and a weight on his chest, the phantom wings on his back aching at the memory of what had been done to him. A couple of times, he was very, very close to crumpling the letter… but he did not. 

With a long sigh, Gabriel put the letter in a drawer, shut it, and tried to forget all about it. 

He tried to forget about a lot of things.

***

"And Jesus called them to him and said to them, ‘You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many’.” -- Mark 10:42-45

***

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