Chapter Text
In the beginning, in the Garden, Crawley watched Aziraphale standing on the wall and felt drawn to him. He looked beautiful, so angelic. That should have turned Crawley’s stomach, but it didn’t. For some crazy reason he thought he’d like to talk to the angel.
Don’t be stupid, he thought to himself. He’ll just smite you for tempting Eve. But he looked friendly enough and he didn’t have his flaming sword with him anymore. Crawley was bored and unfamiliar with impulse control, so he slithered up the wall near Aziraphale and changed to his humanoid form, stretching his black wings out luxuriously.
“Hey”, Crawley purred to the beautiful angel, not getting too close just in case.
“Hello! I’m Aziraphale.” The angel smiled brightly at him and Crawley inched a little closer.
He smiled back. “Crawley. Whatcha doin’?”
“I’m guarding the Eastern gate. That’s my job, Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”
“You like it?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I like being on Earth at least. Never really felt like I fit in…” Aziraphale grimaced and gestured vaguely upwards.
Crawley sighed and nodded. “Yeah, me either. Never liked Hell, I mean. That’s why I volunteered for Earth duty. I’ll stay up here as long as they’ll let me.”
Crawley edged a little closer to the angel, who put a gorgeous white wing over him to protect him from the first rain that was just beginning to fall.
It was several hundred years later before they spotted each other again. They were each surprised to see that the other was still on Earth.
“Crawley!” Aziraphale called out to him. “You’re still here, they let you stay! What have you been up to?”
“I convinced Head Office to name me Hell’s representative on Earth. I’m very good at temptations, ya know, so I was a natural for the job. I’m still up here, tempting, making trouble, sending souls downstairs and enjoying life. You?”
Aziraphale frowned slightly. “When they closed Eden down, I also didn’t fancy going back to Heaven, so I expanded my job description into guardianship of all humans, working to encourage them to remain on the pathway of righteousness and good.”
“Ugh! Then I guess we won’t be seeing much of each other.”
“No, I suppose not.”
But it was a small world, and they often had business in the same places, so they kept running into each other. They’d chat for a few minutes, catch up a little. Crawley had changed his name to Crowley, which Aziraphale thought did sound better. They didn’t have any problem with each other, in fact if they were honest, they secretly rather liked each other. It was just the whole being on opposite sides thing that seemed a little concerning and they made sure that no other angels or demons caught them fraternizing.
It was after the business with Job’s children that Crowley started having the dream. It was brief, only him with his arms raised, seeming to be reaching up for something. Other than this one, he didn’t think he’d had any dreams. Didn’t think demons dreamt until he’d had that one. The dream often came after he’d spent time with Aziraphale. And the more he saw Aziraphale, the more he wanted to see him again. By Elizabethan times they had become quite chummy and would share a meal or an evening out when they met, often, now, on purpose. There were only a few occult or ethereal beings regularly on Earth, and Crowley had begun to think of himself and Aziraphale as being on their own side rather than on opposite sides. He didn’t mention this to Aziraphale, pretty sure that the prim and proper angel wouldn’t like the idea.
As time went on Crowley’s dream continued to bother him. It was getting longer and turning into something of a nightmare. In the dream he was reaching up, as before, but now he felt frightened and sad. He knew he’d lost something. It felt like there was something he really needed to remember. Maybe his subconscious (do demons have a subconscious?) was trying to tell him something.
Aziraphale rarely lay down on his bed to sleep, but he sometimes took little naps sitting in a comfy chair reading a good book. For a while now he’d been having a dream on occasion during those naps. He found the idea of it disconcerting and hadn’t thought that angels could dream until he did. The dream started out quite short. He was standing in a field, looking at something and reaching down to it. He often had the dream after being with Crowley, and he had the oddest feeling that it was Crowley he was reaching down to.
One June night many years later they were sitting together drinking companionably. The evening was warm with a soft, pleasant breeze that tossed the leaves and wafted the odor of the nearby flowers over them. They had drunk rather a lot of wine on this particular evening.
“Angel, uhhh, what if your lot recalls you upsssstairs?” Crowley slurred out of the blue.
Aziraphale regarded him hazily. “Well…I can’t… not do… what I’m told.” He looked downcast at the thought. “But I…I don’t like it there. I’ve never really felt that I belong. I’m not good at being an angel.” He frowned, shaking his head. “If anyone ever found out about the Arrangement, I’d be in big trouble. No other angel would have ever agreed to that.”
Crowley nodded emphatically. “Gotcha. You know I don’t get along with other demons, either. I don’t get why they do most of the shit they do. When I have to go back, I get the hell out of there as soon as I can.”
Aziraphale considered this. “You know, Crowley, I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice person. I…”
Crowley spat a mouthful of wine on the ground and rounded on him angrily, crowding into his space and emphasizing his words by poking Aziraphale hard in the chest with each sentence. “Shut it! I'm a demon. I'm not nice.”
“OK,OK,” Aziraphale soothed calmly, knowing Crowley would never hurt him. He patted the demon’s arm amiably to show he meant no disrespect. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, you know…you’re nice to me. You brought me these chocolates and the wine. I just want you to know I appreciate it.”
Crowley glared, a little less hard than before. “To be honest,” he continued. Aziraphale snickered a little at that and Crowley sharpened the glare. “To be honest, I don’t really consider myself on Hell’s side.”
“Yes, I think you mentioned that. You’re on your own side.”
“As are you!’ Crowley interjected emphatically. You don’t see eye to eye with Heaven.” A few beats passed. “We could be on our own side.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale answered quickly. “I’m not sure that’s practical. What would our side even do?”
“Enjoy life. Drink wine, appreciate art, eat good food. Hang out.”
“We do that anyway.”
“I know, I’m telling you, we’re on our own side.”
They were quiet for a few minutes.
“Crowley?”
“Yeah?”
“If it’s not too personal,… why did you fall?” Crowley was quiet for a minute, pondering the question. “Ya know, it’s crazy, but I’m not really sure. Most demons know exactly why they fell. I try to remember, but I can’t. I think I asked a lot of questions. Knowing me, I’m sure I made some suggestions, probably not good ones. But are those the reasons? I just don’t know. There’s something I really need to remember about my time in Heaven, but it’s all a blur. It feels like there’s something important I’ve forgotten; I barely remember being there at all. Strange, since I remember everything since landing in Hell with perfect clarity.
Aziraphale considered this for a few minutes but had no suggestions.
That night Crowley’s nightmare was longer and more frightening. He felt something hit him in the chest. He started falling and reaching up. He felt terrified and sad but now he also felt intense pain.
As the years passed the nightmare came more often, with more details added in. It weighed on his mind, and he was increasingly troubled by the feeling of needing to remember something important, something related to the nightmare. “Angel,” he asked one day, feeling frustrated, “do you ever get nightmares?”
“No, not really, but there is a recurring dream I have that’s kind of unpleasant. It’s the only one I’ve ever had, and before I had it, I didn’t think angels could dream.”
“That was my feeling exactly,” Crowley exclaimed. “I only ever get this one nightmare and before that I’d never had any dreams or heard of any demon who had. It’s begun to really bother me.”
“What happens in your nightmare?”
“I feel something hit my chest, I’m falling and reaching up. I’m really trying to catch hold of something, but I can’t. I feel terrible pain and fear. I smell burning. After I wake up, I know that there’s something very important I need to remember, but I never can. I really wish I could remember. It’s driving me a little crazy. I think maybe understanding the dream is the key to getting my memory back.”
“That’s funny,” Aziraphale mused. “In my dream I’m reaching down, trying to grab something but I can’t, and I feel frightened and sad, my fingers are burning and I’m crying.” He considered a moment. “Our dreams are rather similar.”
Crowley’s recounting of his strange nightmare haunted Aziraphale’s thoughts. He believed that their dreams were related, somehow. But how? He thought maybe he was reaching down to Crowley and Crowley was reaching up to him.
Sometime later they were walking together in the park. They had wandered off the sidewalk and were strolling down to the pond to feed the ducks when Crowley tripped, landing with a small thud on his butt, muttering and looking quite put out. Aziraphale giggled and reached down to help him up. As he hauled Crowley to his feet, something stirred in his memory. He stared at Crowley, looking sick and stricken.
“Well, it was rude of you to giggle, but I think you’re overreacting, Angel.”
Crowley, Aziraphale thought, as the entire memory flooded back into him. Oh, Crowley, that’s why you can’t remember why you fell. The punishment was meant for me. His eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. I can’t tell him, he’ll hate me. He’ll never speak to me again. Another part of his brain disagreed. You have to, it told him. He needs to know; he deserves to understand what happened and why he gets those nightmares.
Crowley was looking at him helplessly, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to get back to my shop right away.” Crowley could hear that he was upset and nearly panicking.
“What happened?” Crowley asked, fear in his voice. “Are you safe?”
A miserable look crossed Aziraphale’s face. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“OK, Angel.”
By the time they got there the angel had pulled himself together a little, but his eyes were still red and his voice shaky. They sat down together on the sofa.
“What is it? What happened, Aziraphale?”
“There’s something you need to know. It’s probably best if I start off doing all the talking, you do all the listening. If I don’t start talking now, I might never be able to start.”
Crowley looked concerned but hummed and nodded encouragingly.
Aziraphale took a deep breath. Held it for a few seconds. “I know what your nightmare means. It’s about you falling. I know why you fell. No, don’t interrupt me. And I know why you don’t understand it.” He paused, shutting his eyes, willing himself to go on.
“You’ll hate me when I tell you,” he blurted.
Crowley shook his head. “That won’t happen, Angel.”
“It’s all my fault. The punishment was meant for me! God was angry at me!” His voice was rising higher and higher with each sentence. “You jumped in front of it to save me! Oh, Crowley, all this time, I was meant to be the demon, and you were meant to be an angel.
I’m…I’m not the nice one.”
Aziraphale’s head drooped, and Crowley gaped at him. He thought about the dream. It started with a sharp pain as something hit his chest. He fell over and then down, feeling grief-stricken and terrified. His skin stung and his wings burned as he reached desperately up for something. That definitely could be him falling, he thought. And then it came back to him.
The reason he didn’t know why he’d been cast out of Heaven was that he hadn’t been. It had been Aziraphale who had incurred the wrath of God. Aziraphale, the angel he’d loved as soon as they’d met. Aziraphale, who’d lied and coveted and stolen pretty things for himself. Who Crowley could never stand to be apart from. And when an angry Metatron, the Voice of God, had hurled demonic lightning at him to banish him down to Hell, Crowley had thrown himself in front of it to save his love. He’d have done anything to save Aziraphale.
He remembered now. He was hurled backward as if off a high cliff and started falling down. He was so afraid. He felt his skin stinging and burning. He felt his wings catch fire. He felt himself scorched, broken, with just one word on his tongue. Aziraphale. He reached up to Aziraphale desperately, saw Aziraphale, burnt and dazed himself, reaching down to him, just as desperately. But they were already too far apart. Crowley fell.
It took a long time, and by the time he got to the bottom his mind was blank, and he barely remembered Heaven, or much about his time there.
He slowly became aware of Aziraphale crying softly next to him. Crowley put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. Aziraphale gasped and tried to pull away, but Crowley held tight. “I remember it too, now,” he whispered. “What else do you remember? What happened to you after I fell?”
“I don’t have clear memories of that,” Aziraphale managed. “I think I passed out. When I woke up again, I wasn’t sure where I was, or what had happened. I had scorch marks on my robe and burns on my hands and fingers. I remember terrible sadness and a horrible feeling of guilt, but I didn’t know why. I looked for you, but I could never find you, and no one knew where you were. Soon they acted as if they couldn’t even remember you, and I had trouble remembering you myself. I kept searching, but then I rather forgot why. It all became so very foggy.”
He shook his head, remembering not remembering, glancing at his unperturbed companion. “Oh, Crowley, please believe me.” He choked and swallowed hard. “If I’d known that it was supposed to be me who fell, I would have demanded to go in your place. But I didn’t remember. Things before that moment became hazy and unclear. And after that I never felt like I fit in. I didn’t really understand the other angels. That’s why I wanted to be on Earth.”
“I believe you,” Crowley murmured.
And so, an angel who wasn’t really good enough to be an angel, had remained in Heaven. And a demon, whose true nature was kind and good-hearted, was formed in his inverse to live in Hell.
“I’m so sorry...” Aziraphale sobbed.
“Thank you,” Crowley said crisply, embracing Aziraphale and kissing him. “You did it. That’s what I’ve been trying to remember all this time. How much I love you.”