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Chapter Text

“Aziraphale! Fancy seeing you here! Haven’t seen you since… 1601, wossit?”

“Crowley? What are you doing here? Are you the reason there’s so much discontent and– and evilness here?”

“No! I just got here! I got a commendation for ‘starting civil unrest’ between the Anglos and Scots, then they gave me an official order to ‘keep up the bad work.’”

“Well as it happens, I’m also here on orders.”

“Oh really? What for?”

“To observe the Puritans.”

It was a cold and rainy day in the midst of October, much like the days before it. Unlike the days before it, however, today was rather peaceful. There were no battles off in the distant hills, nor news from England about their leadership situation. It was on this day a woman with red ribbons of curls and smoky glasses sauntered into the town of Dunbar. 

Dunbar had recently experienced a short but heavy battle the month prior. Spirits were low, wages were lower, and it was because of this that the former Guardian of the Eastern Gate found himself playing the part of a minister for the local church, or currently, playing host to a demon.

“I thought you were meant to be observing the Puritans, not becoming one of them,” Crowley commented from her seat at the breakfast table, watching idly as Aziraphale puttered around the kitchen.

“They needed a new minister after their previous one, Elijah Rowe, died last week, and I needed a way to reliably observe their workings from the inside. It only took a small ounce of angelic influence for them to accept me so readily.” 

“‘Angelic influence’ meaning no miraculous activity?” Crowley narrowed her eyes. 

“I’ve, uh, actually gotten a reprimand, or a warning, of sorts. Heaven seems to think I involve myself in conflicts too often, and so I’ve been ordered to use the bare minimum of miracles and to ‘not get involved.’” Aziraphale explained and set a plate of scones with jam and grapes on the table before taking a seat across from Crowley. “I must admit, it’s not quite what I expected, but the assignment is easy enough, I suppose. Far better than what I’ve been dealt in the past.”

Crowley shrugged, “well, you say that now.”

“How do you mean?” Aziraphale asked while spreading jam over a scone with a knife's edge. 

“It’s just– I don’t know. Something is going on. This place reeks of evil, of… of wrongness , Angel.”

“There was just a battle last month, dear. Isn’t that the reason you’re here?”

“Well, yes, but… I’m a demon, I have a good sense of things. A bad sense? Can sense when bad things are about to happen.” Crowley pondered and plucked a few grapes from the stem. 

Aziraphale nodded in acknowledgement but otherwise stayed silent while he finished off his scone. After a few moments, he stood and said, “I need to run a few errands in town. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.”

“As long as these errands don’t involve churches, then sure. I don’t see why not. I need to scope out the place, anyway.” Crowley stood and adjusted her dress. 

Aziraphale extended his elbow and indicated toward Crowley’s arm, “Ready?”

Crowley allowed herself a small smile and looped her arm through Aziraphale’s, “Whenever you are.”

The first errand, not at all to Crowley’s surprise, involved food. 

“That tastes marvelous!” Aziraphale exclaimed and took another bite of the breaded sample. “What kind of cheese is that, again?”

The merchant smiled widely, “Cheshire. Just came in from London at the start of this month. This is the plain white version. I also have red and blue if you want to try that?”

“Oh, I would love to,” Aziraphale agreed, and the merchant went off to find the other cheeses. “Crowley, you simply must try this. It’s somewhat salty, which pairs so well with the lamb.” When the demon didn’t respond, Aziraphale looked over to find her staring at the other side of the town square. “Crowley?”

“Yea?” She asked distractedly, not taking her eyes off the horizon. 

Aziraphale’s brow pinched in concern, “are you alright? You seem… preoccupied.”

When Crowley finally did meet Aziraphale’s gaze, it was uneasy. “I’m fine. Just thought I saw something. 

Aziraphale wasn’t convinced, but didn’t press the issue, “I was wondering if you’d like to try some of this? It’s bread with Cheshire cheese and roasted lamb. I think you would like it.”

Crowley shook her head, “don’t really have much of an appetite right now. You know how I am.”

“That’s alright, dear. I’ll have some wrapped up for you to take back to my place, so you may eat it when you’re up to it.” Aziraphale smiled and patted Crowley on the arm. When the merchant came out with more cheese, Aziraphale smiled politely and asked if he could wrap up a small sample for his companion to have later. 

“Not a problem, Brother Fell. Would your companion prefer roasted lamb or chicken?”

Aziraphale hummed in thought, “I’m not sure. Crowley, would you prefer– Crowley?” He looked to his side and found the space empty. “Crowley?” He twisted around to look out across the other side of the square, only to see a flash of red and black disappear into the crowd of townspeople. “Crowley!”

Crowley slithered through the crowd as much as her human corporation would allow. Something distinctively wrong was happening, and it wasn’t because of her. She followed the sense of wrongness to the edge of town, where a mob of people gathered. As she got closer, she saw they were gathered around a young girl crumpled to the ground. Someone threw a stone at the girl, causing a pained yelp as she curled into herself.

Another stone was raised. 

“Woah, woah! Stop!” Crowley cried and shoved her way into the center of the mob. 

“What’s all this then?” A man exclaimed as Crowley stood in front of the girl. 

“Stopping you from ending up in a very hot place. You lot were about to kill her!” Crowley looked around wildly at the ring of people while keeping a protective stance in front of the crying girl. 

“That abomination is a witch! Stand aside, else she infect you, too!” The man warned and raised the stone again. 

“What do you mean ‘infect’?” Crowley crouched down to the girl’s level. The girl hid her face in dirt-streaked and bloody hands, stifling a sob. Crowley felt something tighten in her chest. “This is a child! She can’t be more than– what, twelve? Thirteen?” 

An older woman spoke up, “She killed Brother Rowe!” The crowd was suddenly in an uproar. 

Another woman chimed in, “Killed him in his sleep, she did!” Crowley could feel the girl shake her head even as she huddled into Crowley’s side. She wrapped an arm around the child while her glare never left the man. 

“Step aside, woman!” The man demanded. 

“No,” Crowley snapped. 

The man had the gall to laugh, “You defy my word? Do you not know who I am?”

“No,” Crowley repeated, “nor do I care, quite frankly.”

“I am Nicholas Bell! Best Witch Hunter this side of the world has ever seen. And you, foul woman, are in my way!” 

He stepped forward and swung. 

Aziraphale, as far as angels went, had a very good sense of emotions and feelings from those around him, be it negative or positive. How else was he meant to comfort those who needed it, after all, if he could not sense discomfort? Positive emotions, such as love and joy, were much easier for the angel to pick up on. Negative emotions were a bit harder to track down, which made it all the more alarming that he could sense a beacon of anger and pain on the edge of town. 

A large mob had formed around two figures. A girl with red, curly hair and a dark dress lay crumpled in the embrace of a familiar woman with smoky glasses. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped and made to push his way through the crowd. 

“I am Nicholas Bell! Best Witch Hunter this side of the world has ever seen. And you, foul woman, are in my way!” 

He stepped forward and swung.

Bell was wrong on both accounts. The first of which was that he was not the best Witch Hunter on this side of the world– this title would go to Matthew Hopkins. 

Secondly, and perhaps his worst mistake: Crowley was not just a woman. 

The Witch Hunter’s fist came down with enough force to knock any other human woman face-first into the ground. Crowley, however, barely moved as his fist met her cheek. The impact sent her glasses flying, and she snapped her head back with inhuman speed to give Bell full access to her demonic eyes. She felt her fangs extend as she snarled at the man. 

The crowd reeled in shock, screams piercing the air. Bell, too, took several staggering steps back in fear. 

Aziraphale felt dread coil in his stomach as he saw Crowley clutch at the girl and hiss at anyone who dared to get close. The crowd got over their initial shock and turned it into fear. Fear, Aziraphale has come to realize over the millennia, can cause people to do horrible things. 

Bell took a shaky breath and pointed at Crowley. 

“Witch!”

Chapter Text

Bell took a shaky breath and pointed at Crowley, “Witch!”

“That’s our cue to leave,” Crowley whispered to the girl and urged her to stand. The girl clumsily got to her feet and Crowley pulled her along. 

“Don’t let them get away!” The Witch Hunter exclaimed and threw his stone. It hit Crowley in the back of the head, causing her to stumble, but she otherwise continued with the girl in tow. They shoved their way through the mob. People grabbed at her clothes. Tried to take the girl from her. By some miracle, they managed to escape and make their getaway. 

The girl panted behind her, “What’re we going to do?”

Crowley looked frantic and pulled them into a small shelter, bracing against the door, “Hide. Run and hide. That’s what I always do.” The mob was drawing nearer. Crowley could hear the clamor and promises of death. The girl started to cry again. “Shh! You’re fine. We’re fine. You’re not going to die, you have my word.” 

The Hunter was getting closer, “you all go look over there. We’ll continue down here.”

Crowley cursed under her breath and squinted through a small hole in the wooden door. “We’re gonna have to run. We’re sitting ducks in here.” 

“Where would we go?” The girl whispered fearfully. 

“Anywhere but here,” Crowley extended a hand, which the girl readily took, and prepared to flee. “We’re gonna have to wait until they’re not looking. On three. Ready?” The girl nodded. “Okay. One… two… three! Go, go, go!” They burst out of the wooden shed right as the Hunter barged his way into another building. They wove through trees and buildings alike rapidly. 

Unfortunately, the girl couldn’t keep up. 

There was a sharp cry as the girl’s ankle twisted from underneath her and her knees hit the gravel. Crowley skidded to a halt and cursed for the second time in as many minutes. She pulled on the girl’s arms and urged her to get up, “Come on! We’ve gotta go!” 

“I can’t! I think it’s broken!” She prodded at her ankle and winced harshly in pain. 

“Great,” Crowley seethed through clenched teeth. 

The girl suddenly went wide-eyed and pointed behind Crowley, “Look out!”

Crowley went to whip around but was stopped by a rough hand slapping over her mouth and a strong arm winding itself around her shoulders. She thrashed wildly in the grasp and felt the beginning of scales crawl up her collarbone. “Shh!” Her captor hissed and wrapped his arm tighter around her. She used the shift in stance to kick at the man’s shins. “Ow! Would you stop that! It’s me!”

“Mirraful?” Crowley mumbled into the hand. 

“Sorry?” The man prompted. 

Crowley rolled her eyes and wiggled within the arms holding her hostage. Seeing that Crowley was no longer actively fighting him, the grip loosened and his hand fell away from her mouth. “Aziraphale?” She breathed. 

“Yes! Who else?” He retorted and let his arms fall to his sides.

“Was that really necessary?” Crowley demanded. 

Aziraphale held his hands up in mock surrender, “Okay, maybe not my best plan, but you get testy when stressed.”

Crowley gaped at him and exclaimed, “Testy?” 

“Shh!” Aziraphale hissed at her again. “Help me carry her to my place.”

“Your place?” Crowley echoed but did as she was told, taking one of the girl’s arms while Aziraphale took the other. Together they pulled her to her feet and shuffled onwards. 

“Yes. My place. Do we need to get your hearing checked as well as your head?” Aziraphale looked at her sideways. 

Crowley brought her free hand up to the back of her head, and it came away red. “Huh. Didn’t even realize it’d gotten me that bad.”

There was a hint of concern in Aziraphale’s eyes, “I’ll look at it later, for now, let’s just get away from here.” Crowley didn’t need to be asked twice. The trio haphazardly made their way toward Aziraphale’s lodgings. 

“There we go, dear girl, all patched up and in tip-top condition,” Aziraphale gave a reassuring pat to the girl’s bandage-bound ankle. He carefully lifted her injured foot from where it was resting in his lap and placed it on the cushioned stool he had just stood from. “That should heal up nicely in no time at all.” The girl, which the two had learned was named Lily, rolled her ankle experimentally, pleased to find it no longer hurt as badly. “Now tell me, if you don’t mind, that is… how did you come to be accused of witchcraft?”

Lily straightened from her propped-up position on the chair, “My father is Dunbar’s doctor, so he’s been teaching me some things since I was young. Whenever he’s gone on trips, I take care of the people here.”

“Is your father currently away on one of these trips?” Crowley asked from her position at the kitchen table with a wet cloth held to the back of her head. “Is there anyone at home with you?” 

Lily nodded her head, “my father’s been gone for a few weeks now, but he’s due to be back home today.”

Aziraphale released a breath, “And your mother?”

“She died giving birth to me. The townspeople think I’m cursed.” Lily explained sourly. 

Crowley’s eyes unfocused as she Looked into another plane, “No, you’re not. You’re one of the lightest shades of grey I’ve seen in a long time.”

Lily looked down at her dark dress and raised a questioning brow. Aziraphale cleared his throat, “I’m very sorry to hear it. But as Crowley said, no, you’re not cursed. Those people are just being silly.”

“Why do they think you killed the old minister?” Crowley asked. Lily audibly gulped. “They think you poisoned him– infected him, or something?”

“I didn’t kill him!” Lily exclaimed. 

Crowley held up the hand without the cloth placatingly, “I didn’t say you did. I asked why they think you did. Good at questions, me. You’ll see.”  

The tension in Lily’s shoulders only grew. “He had been sick for a few days. With my father gone, I was the one attending to him.” She took a deep breath. “I was the last to see him alive.”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, “Oh, Lord.”

“‘Killed him in his sleep,’ that woman said.” Crowley laughed shortly. “I told you something was wrong, Angel.” Aziraphale cut his eyes over at the demon. “Right, we should probably get her home, then.”

Aziraphale made a noise of disagreement, “don’t you think the people will recognize her?”

Crowley’s face twisted, “euh– well, I mean– wh, sh, a, mmh… yea, probably. They’d definitely recognize me, so we can’t go out in that crowd to take her to her father.”

The angel’s eyes lit up, “what if we take her father to her?”

“Wot, bring him here?” Crowley narrowed her eyes. 

“Yes, I could go collect her father, or at the very least make him aware of the situation. You two could stay here and out of sight.” Aziraphale explained eagerly, already moving to grab his coat. 

Crowley considered it for a moment, “You know, that might actually work. You’re acting as the minister right now, after all.” Something shifted in Crowley’s eyes, “They wouldn’t suspect you of consorting with the enemy.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and the skin around his eyes crinkled, “No one ever does. And let’s keep it that way, yes?” He turned his attention to the girl intently watching the two immortal beings, “Now, dear girl, Crowley is going to stay here with you while I go and find your father. Which house do you live in?”

Lily blinked up at him then startled, “Oh, um. The house with the green door. Three houses down the road with the stable.”

“I know where that is!” Aziraphale said cheerfully, “That’s not too far from here. Excellent, I’ll go get her father, Crowley–”

Crowley raised a hand, “I’ll stay here and watch her. I’m aware.”

Aziraphale nodded to himself, “I’ll be off then. Lily, you’re welcome to whatever food or drink you find. Don’t let Crowley take all my wine.”

“Oi, I’m working,” Crowley argued. 

“We both know that’s never stopped you before, Dear.” Aziraphale chided and closed the door behind himself. 

It took half an hour to find Lily’s house. Aziraphale realized belatedly he never actually considered what he would tell the man. 

Hello, your daughter has been accused of witchcraft because you left her alone for God knows how long. Please refrain from such actions in the future or you might find yourself with–

A horse huffed at him, breaking him from that particular train of thought. “Oh, hello!” Aziraphale noted its reins were tied to a post in front of the house. He ran a hand over the horse’s snout. “You’re such a sweet thing, aren't you?” A coin-sized piece of brass hung from the halter. One side had an engraved bell while the other read a name. “Scout. I take it that means your owner is home?” The horse huffed at him again. “Well, nothing for it but to check, I suppose.” He knocked on the door.

There was some shuffling inside the house. After a few moments, the door opened enough to reveal a stocky man with auburn hair, “hello?”

“Hello! I’m the new minister here, Azira Fell. I was just popping along the town and meeting all the people here these last few days, and I do believe this is the first I’ve seen of you. I apologize, I don’t think I quite caught your name?”

“It’s Doctor John Davis. Pleasure to meet you, Brother Fell.” Davis stuck out a hand for Aziraphale to shake, which he did. 

“Do you live here alone?” Aziraphale asked. 

Davis swallowed, “No, it’s me and my daughter, Lily.”

“Oh, Lily is your daughter? It’s a good thing I decided to talk then, I have some important news to share with you. Do you mind if I come in?”

The man paled at that and stepped out, roughly shutting the door. “No, I think we need to speak out here.”

Aziraphale hesitated, “alright. Well, it is of a rather… sensitive nature, I’m afraid.” Davis didn’t move. “Have you heard of the events that took place earlier this afternoon?” 

Davis nodded, “I heard of what happened with my daughter, yes. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s perfectly safe, I assure you. She’s actually at my lodgings with my friend. Would you like to come and collect her?” Aziraphale asked. 

The girl’s father seemed heavy in thought, “You said your friend was with her? My daughter is safe?”

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes. My friend, Crowley. She protected her from the crowd earlier this afternoon. She’s quite good with kids, you see, but never let her hear you say that. They’re both at my lodgings.”

“I’ll come with you then to see her. Just let me sort some things out quickly,” Davis gestured toward the front door. 

“Oh, take your time. It’s only a half-hour walk from here,” Aziraphale answered. 

Davis opened the door, “Thank you, Brother Fell. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

The girl’s father closed the door with a sigh, revealing a man sat next to the window with a pistol in his lap. “I thought I told you to keep the door open,” the man said. 

Davis considered his options, “I know where the woman you’re looking for is.”

The man perked up at that, “The Snake woman?”

“I believe so,” Davis agreed, “and I’ll tell you where, but I need to know my daughter will be unharmed.”

The man nodded, “you have my word as a Witch Hunter,” Bell promised with a cold smile. 

Davis hesitated, “she’s at Brother Fell’s lodgings. We’re going there now. I can distract him for some time if you and your men can get down there within half an hour?”

Bell stood and grinned, “Certainly. Your daughter will not be harmed by my hand, Doctor Davis.”

Davis stepped back outside to see Aziraphale petting the horse once again, “are you ready to go, Brother Fell?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale patted the horse one last time and joined Davis on the street. “Are you not taking your horse?”

“That’s not my horse,” Davis said. 

Aziraphale gasped softly, “I didn’t realize you were seeing to a patient. This can wait just a tad longer if you need to finish up?”

“Not a patient, either,” Davis answered with a light, humorless chuckle. 

They walked in silence for all of two minutes before three horses swiftly passed by them, heading in the direction Aziraphale had come from. Aziraphale startled, “Wasn’t that the horse at–”

“So tell me, Brother Fell, how long have you been a minister?” Davis asked suddenly. 

Aziraphale blew a raspberry, “Hard to say… for as long as I can remember, I suppose. Certainly since before you were born. How long have you been a doctor?”

Davis smiled, perhaps the first genuine smile Aziraphale had seen from the man, “since my daughter was born.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Aziraphale praised. “Did you deliver her?”

“I did,” Davis answered. “She’s my pride and joy. The last piece of my wife I still have with me.”

Aziraphale frowned slightly, “what happened? To your wife? Lily had mentioned she died in childbirth.”

The doctor inhaled deeply, “I couldn’t protect her. I promised myself I would never let that happen again.” 

“I’m so sorry about your wife,” Aziraphale said, then added, “Bless you and your daughter.”

Davis felt immensely lighter, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, only for guilt to constrict in his chest like a boa. His next breath rattled, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

The man faltered, “What does God say about harming others? For the sake of protecting your own people?”

Aziraphale considered this, “Well, I’m hardly one to speak for the Almighty, but there is the sixth commandment. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ But if you’re looking to protect your family… I’d certainly try to avoid an altercation, but it might be unavoidable. Adam killed for Eve, for instance, to protect her.”

A few more horses rode past them. “I think I’ve harmed someone,” Davis confessed. 

Aziraphale made a noise of surprise, “Before you continue with that, might I remind you we’re not Catholic. Anything you say may have to be reported to the proper authorities.”

Davis shook his head, “I needed to protect my daughter.”

The angel looked at him, “Of course, that’s your child. It’s human nature to protect your offspring.”

The doctor looked back at him, “Will God forgive me?”

Aziraphale stared at the man, looked away, then looked back with a sigh, “I don’t rightfully know, to be honest with you. I’d like to believe so, but I know someone who was disgraced by God for far less.”

Davis blinked away the moisture gathering around his eyes as they neared Aziraphale’s house, “I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to question why, until he spotted his house. The front door was broken down and the kitchen window was shattered. “Oh! My Lord!” He raced to the front of the house and felt his stomach clench in fear. Inside, tables and chairs were overturned. A curtain was torn from the wall. A few dishes were haphazardly splayed over the floor. Much to Aziraphale’s distress, a trail of blood led from the kitchen to the door. A soft sniffle came from one of the lower cabinets. He flung open the door to find Lily curled up inside, unharmed. 

“Lily?” Davis asked from the doorway. Upon seeing Lily, he dropped to his knees and let out a dry sob, “Lily!” The girl immediately ran and clung to her father. Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off the blood trail. It smelt of iron with a hint of sulfur. 

“Where’s Crowley?” Aziraphale asked no one in particular, already knowing what the answer would be. 

Lily sniffled again and turned to face the angel, “they took her! They think she’s a witch!”

It was fortunate Aziraphale didn’t technically have to breathe. He didn’t think he could with the way his lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves. “Took her where?” He felt a sudden spike of pain flare from the very familiar presence. He felt it as she crossed over the consecrated ground of–

“The church!”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale hadn’t been gone five minutes before Crowley announced, “Right, I’m getting some wine. Do you want some– er, I mean. Want some hot cocoa? I think I saw some in this back cabinet somewhere.”

Lily shot her an amused look, “I thought Brother Fell said for you to not drink his wine.”

“Uh-huh,” she said distractedly while shifting through one of the lower cabinets, “just a bunch of dishes and utensils in here. Well, here’s a mug if you want cocoa. Do you want some? You never did say.” 

“Mostly I’m just hungry,” the girl replied somewhat bashfully. 

Crowley nodded and closed the cabinet, “that’s easily rectified, then.” She quickly rummaged through Aziraphale’s satchel and found the wrapped meat and cheese sample he had picked up for Crowley earlier that day. “Here you are! That should do nicely.” Crowley handed the wrapped item to Lily, which she took gratefully. 

While Lily munched happily, Crowley began piling wood into the small fireplace. A soft snap of her fingers sparked a fire readily within the kindling. Crowley poured a glass of wine and drug a chair in front of the fireplace. She sat languidly and sipped slowly from the glass, “You know, all things considered, this day could’ve gone colossally worse.” The girl joined Crowley relaxing by the fire, content to stay there until Aziraphale returned with her father. Crowley had even begun to nod off when–

CRASH

Lily yelped in shock and Crowley’s eyes flew open. She jerked awake harshly, nearly tipping herself out of the chair. Wine splattered to the floor and she exclaimed, “What in heaven’s name was that?” 

Another rock followed its predecessor, shattering the remains of the window in the kitchen. Crowley flew to her feet, frantic and hissing curses under her breath. Someone pounded at the door harshly, “Open up now, witch! Or we’ll make our own way in!” 

“Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad. Bless it! I told Aziraphale something was wrong, but did he listen? No!” Crowley spat and paced within the kitchen, both hands clutching roughly at her scalp. 

Something heavy slammed into the front door. Some of the paneling fell away. “He’s gonna owe me one hell of an apology after this.” 

Another slam into the door. One of the hinges gave way. The door would collapse in a matter of seconds. She only had seconds to come up with a plan. 

Think, think, think ! 

A slam at the door. The latch cracked and the wooden door splintered rapidly. There wasn’t enough time! Her eyes widened in panic and she turned to find Lily mirroring her expression, eyes misting over with unshed tears, looking all the more like someone who knew their time was limited. Crowley bent down to the girl’s eye level and cupped the side of her face with one hand while the other rested in her fiery curls that much resembled Crowley’s own wild locks. 

Oh, wait… that could work. 

“Lily, look at me,” Crowley demanded. The girl hesitated but obeyed, “Whatever happens, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Two things happened all at once. 

A final slam of the door sent it careening into the living room. 

Dishes crashed into the floor as Crowley threw them out of the cabinet, brandishing a knife. 

Bell stormed into the living area, quickly followed by other Hunters. Crowley grabbed Lily’s shoulders and pulled the girl close to her chest, holding the knife just over the girl’s neck. “Stay back!” She hissed, pulling them both away from the men. Bell paused and raised a hand to stop the other men. A cruel smile pulled at the Witch Hunter’s lips. Crowley stiffened as Bell took a step forward. She took a step back. Readjusting her grip on the knife, Crowley snarled, “I’m warning you! I’ll kill her now!” 

The man took another step forward, “what’s stopping you? Go ahead and kill that abomination. It’d make my job easier.”

Crowley blinked. “She’s not an abomination.”

“What is she then?” Bell scoffed. 

“My daughter.”

Bell froze in shock, clearly taking stock of the similar appearance. 

“At least, that’s what I’ve convinced her,” Crowley explained. “You see, I found this girl sitting all alone out by the woodline one day. Put a little hex on her. Bewitched her into thinking I was her mother and had her do my bidding. The old minister found out, and I couldn’t very well have that, so I–”

“You killed him. You killed Brother Rowe.” Bell finished, looking stricken. “Why are you in Brother Fell’s house?”

Crowley tilted her head and asked, in the patronizing way one would answer an obvious question, “What do you think?”

The Witch Hunter snapped out of his shock and unsheathed his sword, “I will not allow it. You will come with us to the church to face punishment for your wicked deeds.”

Crowley could’ve thanked God her plan was actually working for once, but she wouldn’t, because that’s humiliating. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, feeling something akin to foreboding she couldn’t quite place. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I’ll be back, and you won’t like that very much. And if I don’t come back, you definitely won’t like what comes next.”

Bell hummed thoughtfully, “Perhaps not you, no.” The man looked somewhere behind Crowley to her left, then at the girl in her grasp, “I promised her father no harm would befall the girl by my hand.” He turned to a Hunter at his side, “kill her.”

Crowley realized a moment too late they had shattered the kitchen window– creating an opening big enough for several men to crawl through. 

Her arms were suddenly and harshly yanked behind her, causing her knife to clatter to the floor. One of the men holding her arms kicked the knife away. “No!” Crowley shouted to no avail. 

A Hunter stepped up from behind Bell and grabbed Lily’s wrist. The girl writhed in the strong grip, even going as far as to bite the man’s arm hard enough to draw blood. “Argh! You blasted witch!” He unsheathed his sword.

Crowley wasn’t a fighter. As an angel, they were a creator of stars and nebulae. After the Fall, he was a curator of chaos, much preferring to be behind the scenes. This doesn’t mean, however, that Crowley’s never had to fight. One does not survive in Hell without knowing at least a modicum of self-defense, after all. Along with an imagination, Crowley also has something no other demon ever could: a proper Guardian Angel to teach her a thing or two. 

Fangs sunk deep into flesh– venom near immediately invading her captor’s veins. The man cried out in pain, trying to rip his arm out of Crowley’s jaws, but she persisted. It took mere seconds for the paralyzing effect to settle in. The man dropped like stone while the other tried fruitlessly to restrain her. Crowley, snake-like as she was, contorted within his grip enough to grab one of the discarded plates scattered over the floor and smash it over his head. He stumbled, clutching the bloody gash at his forehead while Crowley kicked at his knees, sending him rather forcefully to the ground next to his partner. 

Bell stared in abject horror, visibly gathering his courage, and ordered his men to restrain her. A dozen or so men poured in from behind Bell and the kitchen window. Crowley felt something heavy drop into her stomach. Optimism could only get you so far. She knew, undoubtedly, she wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed. 

There was somebody who could, though. 

Crowley barreled into the man still holding the sword against Lily. He toppled to the ground and Crowley quickly crawled over to Lily, urging the girl to stand in a grotesque mirror of earlier that day. “Get up! Run! Hide! Gah–” A kick to her side sent her plummeting to the floor, landing on her elbow hard. She groaned and tried to favor her injured arm for a moment before another kick had her face down on the ground, curling up around herself. 

A knee heavily pinned her to the floor even as she wiggled about, desperate to escape the rope now tightening around her wrists like a noose. She vaguely registered one of the men tearing down a curtain and ripping off a hearty strip of the cloth. Between one heartbeat and the next, the cloth was shoved into her mouth and tied behind her head, effectively muzzling her. Crowley saw Lily hide in the lower cabinet and soon saw nothing at all as another strip of cloth was tied over her eyes. 

Now deprived of sight and touch, every other sense, including those she hadn’t had to use for a very long time, were dialed up to the highest register. Her corporation’s sense of smell wasn’t as effective as her serpentine’s, but without the ability to taste the air, it would have to do. She inhaled long and deep, wanting to gag at the metallic, and slightly sulfuric, smell of blood. 

“Get her up,” Bell’s voice rang out. Hands grabbed all along her arms and pulled her up at an awkward angle. She couldn’t quite get her feet under her before they were moving, dragging her between them even as her legs scrambled for purchase. Realizing they were going to continue on despite her, she quit struggling and instead tuned into her other senses. There was less of a metallic smell, thankfully. She could hear some of the men saddling their horses while others stayed on all sides of her. She only started to panic when her demonic hindbrain picked up on the holiness emanating not too far in front of them. 

“You will come with us to the church to face punishment for your wicked deeds.”

Oh, fu–

She stifled the pained whimper as they crossed onto the consecrated ground. Crowley seized slightly where her feet hit the ground, trying to pull her legs in close to her body. Doors opened and she was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. There was no stopping the scream of pure agony. 

Crowley had never been in a church before. She’d only ever seen its effects from a demon unlucky enough to cross into a church back when they were first being built in the 4th century. It was one of the few times she had actually been grateful to be called into a hellish meeting. Beelzebub had thought it imperative they all be aware of the dangers posed by these new grounds. The damage dealt to their corporations, and their True Forms if exposed for too long, was formidable. 

Anywhere and everywhere burned. The same hands that had once stoked fire into something beautiful now reddened under the intense heat of a thousand suns. She quickly hauled herself onto trembling legs to lessen the contact. The thin soles of her shoes gave little reprieve, but something was better than nothing. 

“I’ve never seen a witch have that reaction,” one of the men spoke from behind her. 

Bell chimed in, “aye. She must be truly wicked indeed. Let’s get this underway.” Someone undid the cloth around her eyes, which she knew to be blown yellow. Her vision swam and blurred around the edges. From the haze, she could make out a podium in front of her, of which Bell stood behind. “As Witch Hunter General, I hereby sentence the accused of witchcraft and sentence her to trial by water.”

The doors flung open. “What in God’s name is going on here!”

Aziraphale. 

“Ah, Brother Fell. These heinous acts need no attention from you. We can handle this and spare you the trouble,” Bell said. 

Aziraphale scoffed, “I rather think not. I am the minister of this establishment, am I not?” No one denied him. “And as minister, I oversee those who are lost to their sin and acts of court. I’d say this act needs all of my attention.”

Bell shook his head, “You’re trying to save this sinner’s soul, I understand. I am, however, afraid it cannot be done. This woman is unforgivable. She has been to bed with Satan.”

Angel and demon alike openly cringed in disgust. 

“With Satan ?” Aziraphale asked, slightly breathless. “I’d be greatly surprised if she did.” He turned away to cough, but Crowley saw the amused upturn of lips. Bastard. “I will be taking over these proceedings now, thank you,” he all but shoved Bell out from behind the podium. Crowley would’ve felt proud if she could feel anything other than her blistering feet. She winced hard and tried to shift her stance slightly. “Now, uh, what evidence do we have of accusing her of witchcraft?”

A chorus of responses filled the room. 

“She has fangs. Bit Henry on the arm.”

“Her eyes are not human.”

“She’s got a symbol of black skin at her temple.”

“Her skin is smoking in a church.”

Aziraphale stood wide-eyed and unprepared. “Oh, uh… yes… I suppose all of those things are true. Can we have testimonials from those who believe she should be sentenced?” Every hand raised. “Oh, dear. Let’s see. Um, you there!” He pointed out the man from the cheese market. “Why do you believe she should be sentenced?”

The merchant said, “While I was getting your food together, she kept looking off to the side. Then she ran off. I gather she was running from spirits.” 

Murmurs of agreement. 

“Getting lost in your thoughts is in no way an act of witchcraft. I do it all the time!” Aziraphale protested. The silence that followed was deafening. He cleared his throat, “Next testament please.”

Bell stepped forward, “Brother Fell, I understand why you’re doing this. It’s honorable, truly, but I’m no longer sure if this creature is a witch!”

“Oh, jolly good. So we can all call it a day and go home then?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Nay,” Bell differed, “look at her skin. It’s melting before our eyes. No other witch brought to these grounds has done this before.” 

Bell, for once, was correct. 

Aziraphale’s eyes misted over as he saw the evident distress in his friend’s form. Burns and blisters trailed up her arms and legs, most evident in her arms and knees. She was rocking on her feet with a poorly hidden grimace. He didn’t even want to think of the damage done there. 

The Witch Hunter continued, “I think we are not dealing with a witch at all. We may be witnesses to a demonic possession. With the verses Brother Fell has given me, we can reveal this beast’s True Form and save the poor woman.” 

Aziraphale looked up in alarm. 

Crowley pressed her lips together in a tight line and her eyes fluttered closed. This situation had just gone from bad to worse. Possibly even pear-shaped. 

Bell took a stance before Crowley, gazing down at her with something like pity. “To the woman’s poor soul, if she can hear me: this might hurt, but it’s for your own good. This unforgivable creature will show us its True Form and burn in Hell!”

“No, wait!” Aziraphale cried. 

Two voices spoke at the same time. 

Ungraceful. Messy. “Ostende mihi quis es.” Show me who you are.

Familiar. Practiced. “Dimitto tibi.” I forgive you.

Crowley felt her skin contract and tear as scales rippled through her flesh. She choked on a sob as even more of her demonic essence made contact with the holy ground, no longer fully cushioned by her human body. Black, iridescent scales littered the back of her hands and up her arms. Down her back. On her neck. Around her serpentine eyes and unhinged jaw locked in a silent scream. Snakes didn’t have need for trivial things such as joints or hips. Bones audibly clicked in and out of place, held together in a vaguely human shape purely because she willed it so. Her spine lengthened and her ribs flared. Crowley found in that moment she very much wished snakes could cry. Her only saving grace was Aziraphale’s last-second forgiveness, diluting Bell’s command and allowing her to stay within her mutilated approximation of a corporation.

“What say you now, Brother Fell? Still convinced this abomination is worth your attention?” Bell asked, triumphant. “Will you let this demon run rampant through our town? Or will you put it out of its misery?”

Crowley met Aziraphale’s eyes. He shook, “I…” 

Bell rested a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “You’re a man of God. You know what you’re meant to do.”

A tear rolled down the angel’s cheek. 

It wasn’t even a choice. In a game between Her and herself, Crowley knew she had lost. 

Chapter Text

Crowley sat in her cell, as she had been for the past few hours. Or at least she thinks it’s been hours. Her cell had no windows or clocks, nothing to dictate the passing time but her drooping eyelids. She was sure, had she been human, that her stomach would’ve been growling by now. As it happened, Crowley was a demon in need of a hot shower, alcohol, and a nap. Not necessarily in that order. She was known to sleep anywhere and everywhere she could, but being shackled to the cool, stone floor was proving difficult. Aziraphale wasn’t the only immortal with standards. 

No one came to see her. She had expected guards at her door, or for someone to bring a plate of food after some time, but there was nothing. No warmth to lessen the chill of the tiles. No light, save the single torch down the hall that human eyes probably wouldn’t have had much use for. Complete isolation from the outside world. Crowley might have even imagined she enjoyed it if it weren’t for the holy shackles around her wrists. 

There was another problem. That blasted angel she’d somehow grown fond of had Blessed the blessed shackles! Granted, it wasn’t nearly as scorching as the consecrated ground had been. It felt like holding your hand in water that was just slightly too hot to be comfortable. She noted with some relief that Aziraphale had restrained himself on the Blessing. 

Aziraphale. She chuckled bitterly to herself at just the thought of him. The bastard. 

“I suppose all evidence points toward your being a demon. I have no choice but to sentence you–”

“What?” Crowley exclaimed. “Okay, this has gone too far. My feet are really starting to hurt–”

Aziraphale raised a hand, “Don’t interrupt me please, dea– Demon.”

Crowley’s eyes widened in disbelief, “you’re joking. You can’t be serious.”

“Bell and his men will take you to the holding cells until I can decide what your fate will be,” Aziraphale finished and nodded toward the Witch– or rather, Demon– Hunter. 

The men pulled Crowley to her feet and began dragging her towards the doors. “What happened to the ‘lend a hand when needed’ part of the arrangement, eh? Help me!” A bag was shoved over Crowley’s head. “Angel? Angel!”

Crowley could hear the smug grin in his voice as Bell spoke, “You can quit the begging and praying. No angels will come to save you.”

“He will if he ever wants to see me again!” Crowley retorted loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. The church doors slammed closed, separating the two. 

The Blessed shackles kept her hands uncomfortably warm, as well as blocking her Miracles. As a general rule, Crowley attempted not to use her Miracles in front of humans. She probably would’ve Miracled herself out of this entire situation to begin with if the kid hadn’t been involved. Yes, the death of any innocent man or woman would have been awful, she’d have made sure their last moments were peaceful, but she drew the line at kids. This was something that had gotten her in trouble before, and probably would again. Crowley couldn’t stand the thought of a young life being cast out of society for something out of their control. Of being sentenced to an entire lifetime with no chance of truly living. 

That was another thing Crowley found herself doing these past few hours. Days? She’d been thinking. Thinking about all the things she was going to curse this town with once she was out of these shackles, surely. But that had grown boring after the first hour or two. Then she’d thought of a way to spread the word of events. Instead of having a kid yell out the local news, why not put it on paper? Aziraphale loved his scrolls and books. Why not do the same, but with the news? 

She’d also been thinking of Aziraphale more often than not. Why had the angel betrayed her? Had he? She’d told him from the beginning she thought something was wrong, and he hadn’t listened. Or had he already known? She was a demon and he was an angel. What did it matter if she inconveniently discorporated? But he’d helped her save the girl. She knew Heaven had reprimanded him on Miracle use, but why would he suddenly start following their rules now of all times? Was she not worth it to him? Despite all the times she’d saved him?

No. Best not to go down that train of thought. Crowley would do anything for Aziraphale. She would sit in this freezing, bare, monochrome room that reminded her an awful lot of Heaven’s prison during the War, now that she thought about it, and would get her breathing under control before she hyperventilated and the Hunters found nothing but a dead body. She would force her fingers to relax from where they had sliced bloody crescent moons into her palms. She would straighten her back and keep her head held high until she met her untimely discorporation. 

Unless Aziraphale tells them how to properly Kill a demon. 

He wouldn’t do that. 

Would he?

“Will you?” Crowley asked as the Ark rocked beneath them. A baby slept soundly in her arms while another two dozen kids dozed off in their shared, Miraculously forgotten nook of the boat. 

Aziraphale looked at her curiously, “will I what?”

“Kill me,” Crowley answered cautiously. “For trying to save the kids.” 

Shuffling footsteps down the hall brought Crowley out of her memories. She slumped back against the wall and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She slid one eye open just enough to be able to see a man’s silhouette slide down the hall towards her cell. Just as the figure rounded the corner, Crowley’s eye fell shut. 

“Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale said dejectedly. Crowley heard the crisp rattle and metallic scrape of a key being inserted into a lock. The heavy door creaked open. The frigid cell became just a tad warmer as Aziraphale dropped to his knees in front of Crowley. “Are you okay?” 

Crowley sighed inwardly, then outwardly as she finally opened her eyes, “What kind of a question is that? I’m still not an aardvark, if you were curious.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. Crowley could see the small pool of tears gathering. “I’m so sorry it took me this long! I had to find the keys, you see. Oh, Crowley. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Oh really? Sorry I didn’t quite take throwing me in a cell as a compliment to my character,” Crowley scoffed. 

“Crowley, please!” Aziraphale pleaded. “Please believe me. You don’t have to forgive me right now. I do hope you will, though, eventually. All I ask is that you believe me when I say I never intended for this.” The angel took an unneeded breath, “And for you to do as I say.”

Crowley sneered half-heartedly. She would do whatever Aziraphale asked of her, always, but she’d be damned twice over if she didn’t complain about it first. “Me being imprisoned wasn’t enough for you? Want to see me swing on a rope, too?”

A look of pure sorrow crossed over Aziraphale’s features. “I’d really rather it not come to that. It’s only because I’m the minister that I’m allowed to be down here with you at all. A last attempt for you to confess your sins, as it were.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of those. How long you have?” 

“Stop it, Crowley! Please, listen! They’re having your trial in the morning.”

“That display at the church wasn’t enough?”

“Listen!” Aziraphale’s voice broke over the syllabant. “They’re going to try to burn you at the stake. I’m going to remove your shackles, and then I want you to conjure Hellfire.”

Crowley went silent at last, but she wasn’t listening anymore. “Wot?”

“I’ll be the one to tie you to the stake. I’ll be sure to leave the knots loose. Then I’ll create a distraction so–”

“No.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, “beg pardon?”

Crowley shook her head, “I can see why I’m the strategist out of the two of us. Full offence, Angel, your plan’s horrible.” 

The angel narrowed his eyes, “you almost make it sound like you’d rather die at the hands of humans.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but no. We can think of something else. You’re… I’m not doing that.”

“Whyever not?” Aziraphale asked incredulously. “I could perform a Miracle or two and draw attention away from you. You could conjure Hellfire and escape. You can make it quite the dramatic spectacle, I’m sure. You could report it to your Head Office.”

Crowley shook her head furiously, “so you can be further reprimanded against using Miracles. No, I’m not risking it.”

Aziraphale gaped, “Don’t worry about me. You could use the Hellfire to–”

“I’m not conjuring Hellfire!”

“Why not!”

“Because it could destroy you!” Crowley bellowed. Aziraphale stared in stunned silence. “I’m not living in a world where I’m the reason you’re not.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, “and the feeling is mutual.” 

It felt too much like a confession.

Three knocks rang out down the hall followed by a gruff, “Everything alright in there?”

“Everything is just fine, my dear fellow. I’ll be out in just a moment!” Aziraphale called back. His eyes met Crowley’s. “I have to go.”

Crowley nodded slowly, “So I hear.”

Angel and demon held each other’s gaze. Aziraphale exhaled sharply and scooted closer to pull Crowley into his arms. She stiffened under his touch. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt–”

Crowley shifted as close as she could with her arms still shackled behind her. “No, it’s fine.” Aziraphale hesitantly put his arms back around his friend. When she made no further move, he wrapped his arms a little more protectively around her battered frame. She’d been kicked, prodded, stabbed, and grabbed many times in the past few hours. She’d even been held in someone’s arms a few times, but nothing compared to this. Sure, muscles twinged where Aziraphale pressed a bit too hard and her ribs ached from the pressure, but the pain was welcome. She allowed herself to pillow her face in the crook between the angel’s neck and shoulder. It felt like Heaven. Not the Heaven that had cast her out and made her Fall. No. This was her own personal Heaven. 

Heaven walked out the door less than a minute later with the promise of wine tomorrow night. 

Chapter Text

“You can quit the begging and praying. No angels will come save you.”

“He will if he ever wants to see me again!” 

Aziraphale wrung his hands together and paced in one of the church’s back rooms. He’d gotten Crowley off of the consecrated ground, at least. That was his most pressing concern, but now that she was dealt with, he didn’t even know where to begin. This was as far as his hastily put-together plan had taken him. 

He could really go for some crepes right about now. And a drink. With Crowley. Far away from this town and Scotland in its entirety. The weather here was too dreary and chilly for his liking, anyhow. 

That could wait. General Bell would be back anytime now, more than likely wanting to discuss Crowley’s sentence. Obviously, he didn’t want her to die, that was simply unthinkable. If Crowley were to be discorporated, she’d be downstairs for decades! Who could he possibly thwart in the meantime? 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could admit to himself he’d miss her company immensely, regardless of the accompanying wiles. But those were thoughts for the back burner, once those were invented. For now, he had more pressing matters. 

Four knocks in quick succession at the door broke Aziraphale out of his thoughts, “Yes? Who is it?”

“General Nicholas Bell. May I enter?” The man announced. 

Aziraphale steeled himself and crossed to open the door, “Hello, General. How can I help you?”

The general seemed slightly put out. “Afternoon, Brother Fell. I was just wondering of your intentions with the demon.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” the angel lied.

Bell searched for his words for a moment before stating, “I’ll admit, at first I thought your intervening with the trial to be troublesome. Brother Rowe let my men and I decide the fate of witches. Your insistence has delayed the witch’s sentence, certainly. But for that very reason, I’m thankful. If we had proceeded with the sentencing without knowing the truth, that poor woman the demon is possessing would have died unjustly.”

What about all the other women who died? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley argued. Aziraphale shoved that thought to the metaphorical back burner, too. “I see. Pardon me if I sound obtuse, but, what difference does it make if your subject is a witch or demon?”

“That’s what I was here to ask you,” Bell answered. “I’m a Witch Hunter. I’ve no experience with the supernatural. You, however, gave me those verses to reveal a demon’s nature and how to cleanse a body with holy water. Do you know of a way to kill a demon?”

Yes. He very well knew how to kill a demon. It was his job, admittedly one he was very bad at. 

Aziraphale looked down at Crawley. Would he kill her? He looked out across the mass of tattered blankets and sleeping children. He looked at the baby who had never been safer than in the arms of a demon. The ark gave a particularly awful lurch, or it might’ve just been the guilt settling in his stomach as he turned the other cheek. “I’ve been commanded to protect every life aboard, and that’s what I intend to do.”  

“You can’t kill this demon,” Aziraphale said in way of an explanation. It wasn’t a lie. They can’t kill Crowley. He wouldn’t allow it. “The most you could possibly do is send it back to Hell.”

Bell nodded, “and how do we do that?”

Aziraphale hesitated, “Give me some time and I’ll have a solution. This is a very delicate matter, you see. I can’t afford any mistakes.”

The general accepted this, “Understood. Thank you for assisting me. Is tomorrow morning sufficient time for you?”

“That should do, yes. I’ll be here in the morning.” Aziraphale agreed. 

His wording seemed to trip something in the other man’s memory, “Your lodgings! I’m sorry for the state we left it in. I will have some of my men repair things for you. By the time this ordeal is over, all of your things will be just as you left them.” 

Nothing would be the same after this was over, but he let it go with a short hum. General Bell took it for the dismissal it was and left Aziraphale to his thoughts once again. 

The sun had long since set on the horizon. Aziraphale had papers strewn out in front of him and a cup of tea that had hardly been touched. It was fortunate angels didn’t need sleep, not that Aziraphale would be able to regardless, not when he still didn’t have a plan in place. 

He’d had several ideas, though none of them seemed worthwhile. His most promising idea thus far involved causing an earthquake and breaking the doors to the cell, allowing Crowley to escape, but that’d been done before, and it’d surely be noticed by humans and Heaven alike. Scotland wasn’t exactly known to have foundation-shattering quakes, after all, so that idea carried about as much potential as a piece of wet firewood. 

Wet firewood… he could suggest Crowley be burned at the stake, but–

No, that wouldn’t work. Aziraphale hung his head in his hands and scrubbed at his face harshly. How had they gotten into this situation again? 

He mulled over several more ideas in the following hours. One such idea involved Crowley turning into a snake and slipping out unnoticed through the mob of people. He thought better of it when he remembered what God had last said to the Serpent of Eden. He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel. Best not to have Crowley around that many snake-crushable boots. 

As the sun rose and the fog dissipated, Aziraphale set out through the village in search of… something. He first stopped by the cells but found them guarded and locked. Crowley was inside, he could sense that much. She wasn’t on the verge of discorporation, at the very least, though Aziraphale would wager Crowley’d complain she’d ‘die of boredom’ if only given the smidgen of the chance. She loved to complain and gripe, though hardly ever did anything to solve the apparent problem. “Why would I thwart my own wiles? That’s meant to be your job, innit?” She’d said once. 

There were three ways they typically executed witches. He visited all three sites and plotted. 

Trial by Water. This was the most common trial, and perhaps the only execution that could somehow be deemed a ‘trial.’ The accused would die either way, but there was the possibility of a posthumous decree of innocence. The witch was tied and thrown into the lake. They would either drown, proving their innocence, or they would survive, only to be convicted of witchcraft and hanged for it. 

Aziraphale eyed the docks of the nearby lake. They didn’t technically need to breathe, so perhaps Crowley could stay submerged long enough for the crowd to disperse and for Aziraphale to fetch her. 

Trial by Hanging. This wasn’t so much of a trial as it was a death sentence, plain and simple. The accused would be hanged for their supposed crimes. At the very least, it would be a swift death. 

Again, they didn’t technically need to breathe, but the rope might cause undue damage to Crowley’s throat or even decapitate her, and Aziraphale didn’t want to risk it. Though, if the rope frayed just so, and if it just so happened to snap… Aziraphale tucked away that idea for further review. 

Trial by Fire. It was less an execution than it was an act of theatre. A spectacle for those fully believed to be witches and to serve as a warning to others. A pyre of wood was lit aflame with the witch tied to a stake in its midst. 

Could he make it so the fire wouldn’t ignite? Or at the very least not harm Crowley? Their corporations were resilient, yes, but still mostly human. Fire would destroy her corporation all the same. 

Hellfire might not, though. 

That afternoon, Aziraphale convinced General Bell the only way to send a demon back to Hell was with fire. Hell was often depicted as a fiery pit of sulfur and brimstone, after all, so it wasn’t too difficult to have the General come to this conclusion. The best lies always hold an element of truth, as Crowley had told him once. 

And so Aziraphale began to plan this spectacular escape. He couldn’t get too close to the Hellfire himself, else he meet a rather gruesome and permanent end, dooming them both in the process. He could remove the Miracle-dampening shackles, however, and tie a knot loose enough around her wrists to trick onlookers but be enough for Crowley to slip through. 

Now all he had to do was get down to Crowley’s cell and tell her of his plan! She would think his plan was genius!

“Full offence, Angel, your plan’s horrible.”

Or perhaps not. 

They bickered the point back and forth until it suddenly came to a screeching halt. 

“Why not!”

“Because it could destroy you!” Crowley bellowed. Aziraphale stared in stunned silence. “I’m not living in a world where I’m the reason you’re not.”

What could he possibly say to that? Aziraphale swallowed, “And the feeling is mutual.”

It didn’t take long before Aziraphale caved and brought the demon into his arms. She stiffened at the contact and the angel retreated, fearing having hurt her, but she ignored his concerns and leaned into the hug. He allowed himself this moment. They would figure things out. They would be okay in the end. He mustered up enough self-control to stand and leave the cell with a promise of wine tomorrow night. 

The rising sun was met with cheerful birdsong, unbeknownst to Aziraphale’s emotional turmoil. A pyre was being set up while other people went about their everyday lives as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach. 

Soon enough, a band of people strode forward with two people in tow, one of which being Crowley. She still had the Miracle-dampening shackles on and a gag in place, looking worse for wear. Three days chained to a cold, hard floor hadn’t done the demon any favours. She looked as if she hadn’t slept the entire time if the half-lidded eyes and sluggish movements were anything to go by. Or that could just be the old wounds reopening from the unusual movements after being mostly stationary. Aziraphale, not for the first time, felt a tug of regret. He shouldn’t have ever gotten them tangled up in this mess. A torch was lit aflame and Aziraphale took a stabilizing breath as Crowley was led to…

The docks?

What?

Aziraphale was about to question the purpose of the pyre when he took notice of the second person being brought to trial. 

Doctor John Davis stepped up and was tied to the stake.

“Hang on just one moment! This isn’t what we discussed!” Aziraphale exclaimed and strode over to General Bell. “We said Crowley would have a Trial by Fire! Whatever happened to that?”

Bell nodded, “I understand your confusion. I do appreciate your valiant effort to help the cause, but the more I thought over your words, I realized that if you want something done right, you’ll see it done yourself.”

Aziraphale gaped, “what about the doctor? Where does he get involved in this?”

“He confessed to being a witch in exchange for his daughter’s life,” Bell answered. 

“This is– this is a right outrage! We had a deal!”

“No, Brother Fell, I don’t believe we did,” Bell chided. “I asked for your advice, which you gave. I never said I would do what you said.” Aziraphale was struck with the thought that Gabriel and Nicholas Bell might get along splendidly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a Trial to get started.”

Bell nodded toward the man holding the torch. The man pulled away Davis’ gag and asked, “Any last remarks?”

Davis took a deep breath and spoke, “I only hope my wife will be there to catch me should I fall for my sins and that God will forgive me for my trespasses.” 

Aziraphale sent a quiet Blessing his way. 

Bell nodded toward the man holding Crowley and removed her gag. “Any last remarks?”

Crowley licked her lips and wrinkled her nose in disgust, “yeah, no. I’ve already done the whole ‘Fall for my sins’ bit. Not a fan. But really? This entire charade has been something Hastur would love to hear about. In fact, I think I’ll introduce you to him personally.” At that, Crowley levelled Bell with an impressive demonic glare, which really wasn’t helping her current allegations. 

“That is all then,” Bell started. “I hereby sentence Doctor Davis to burn at the stake and the demon Crowley to be cleansed by holy water.”

Angel and demon looked up in utmost alarm. “I beg your pardon?!” Aziraphale all but shouted. 

Bell exhaled heavily and cast Aziraphale an annoyed glance, “Yes, Brother Fell? Are you in objection to my using the verses you gave me specifically for if a demon should come across my path to God’s Light?”

Aziraphale huffed, “Well I didn’t mean for it to be this particular demon.”

The Witch Hunter caught onto his wording like a hound to a fox’s scent, “Be careful how you speak. You being a minister doesn’t give you any protection from the righteous flames of the pyre.”

Crowley struggled in the man’s hold, “Oi, watch it!” She spat even as the man tightened the ropes. 

“I’m growing tired of these interruptions,” Bell seethed and raised a hand, “benedic aquas has in nomine angeli!”

Aziraphale saw the way Crowley instinctively shied away from the water despite not feeling the effects himself. “So that’s it then?” Crowley asked the Hunter. “You tie me up and throw me in just to die either way. I’ll sink or swim.”

Bell hummed, “‘Sink or Swim’ you say? I like that. I think I’ll use that.” At Crowley’s indignant scoff, the Hunter looked out across the gathering crowd. “Light the fire. Throw her in.”

Aziraphale and Crowley screamed as one as the demon’s back hit the water. 

Chapter Text

“Get a bit carried away there, oh Principality?” Crowley asked smugly from her perch. 

Aziraphale sighed and worked at cleaning one of Crowley’s many burns. “Perhaps just a tad.”

A demon fell into the water just as the torch hit the dry kindling. 

An angel fell to his knees. Water swelled as fire roared. 

“It was that stupid Hunter’s fault, anyhow. Lucky for us he got the incantation wrong.” Crowley hissed as Aziraphale grazed a particularly painful area of skin. 

“No, he said it perfectly correct.” Aziraphale rubbed a salve onto Crowley’s burn. 

“Eh?”

“‘Bless these waters in the name of the Angel.’ Only he never named the angel in question. He couldn’t have. I go by Brother Fell, after all.”

Crowley sprang up from her lounged position, “Oh, you bastard! You knew!” 

Aziraphale gently pushed her back down to an easily accessible height. “Again, no. For a few moments there, I had thought I actually lost you.”

Aziraphale hadn’t manifested his True Form in quite some time. That’s not to say he hadn’t forgotten how. It was like riding a bicycle, once those were invented in about 200 years. One never forgot, much like how the people of Dunbar will never forget that fateful day an Angel of the Lord Thy God came to teach them a lesson in mercy. 

“What’d you ever do with that doctor anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be on fire?”

“The fire went out with the manifestation of my wings, fortunately.”

“And that’s when you swooped in to rescue me, shivering and soaking wet like I’m some kind of… damsel in distress or something.” Crowley scoffed. 

Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled around his smile, “You do make quite the nice damsel, but I’d rather you not be in distress if I can help it. We are on the same side now, if you’re still agreeable to it.”

“Of course I am, Angel. But, well, it is your fault I was in distress to begin with.”

Aziraphale threw his hands up in exasperation. “For the hundredth time Crowley, I’m sorry! I don’t know what else you want me to say! It’s not as if you died!”

“Yeah, but it still bloody well hurt!” Crowley bit back. 

Aziraphale lowered his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Please forgive me for not listening to you. You were right. I was wrong. Happy?” 

Crowley pursed her lips in thought. “No.”

“You’re being unreasonable now,” Aziraphale chided. 

“No,” Crowley continued. “You not being willing to break the rules is what got us into this mess. You breaking them is what will give you my forgiveness.”

Aziraphale hesitated, “Crowley, I’m not killing any of the townspeople, despite the rather ungodly urge to.” 

“What!” Crowley spluttered, “No, none of that! You know I don’t deal out in that game. No, I want you to do something for me. Here. Now.”

The angel stared the demon down but found no hint as to Crowley’s thoughts in those slitted amber eyes. He found nothing but bemusement. “What is it?”

“Dance for me.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Dance. You heard me.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to splutter, “Angels don’t dance.”

“Maybe angels that don’t break the rules, but this one does.” Crowley nodded towards the empty space of the room and crossed her legs at the ankle, “go on then.”

“This is ridiculous, Crowley. You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you right now.” 

“You don’t have to believe. You’ve just gotta dance.”

Aziraphale grunted in annoyance but moved to stand in the middle of the room. “I look ridiculous.”

Crowley crossed her arms and gave a lopsided grin, “That is rather the point, Angel. I looked ridiculous in that church as some kind of half-snake half-woman hybrid. I looked ridiculous after being tied up and thrown in a lake. I looked ridiculous after–”

“Alright, alright. Fine! I see your point. Just– oh, I don’t even know what to do with my arms.” Aziraphale breathed despite not needing to. Why did he feel nervous? He chanced a glance at Crowley and saw the demon looking at him expectantly, but fondly. Crowley had already forgiven him, this was just for her own wicked entertainment. 

The angel spun around twice with his arms held out at his sides. “You were right. You were right. I was wrong. You were right.” 

Crowley grimaced, “We’ll work on it.”