Imagine Crowley taking the Duke of Hell job because he finds out that Metatron manipulated Aziraphale’s memories to hate Crowley and to want another war.
Crowley’s only way to get him back and try to fix him is to take the top job on the other side, so he can have enough demons to storm Heaven.
He even has Beelzebub and Gabriel on his side. Crowley does show to be a fantastic Duke and demons do actually follow him.
They manage to start a fight in Heaven, Crowley doesn’t actually want it to end up in a bloodbath, so he rushes out to catch Aziraphale.
Aziraphale, with his eyes purple, in all white, zero charm and happiness on his face. He looks at Crowley with so much hate it makes him stop for a moment.
But he prepared for this. The demons make enough of a chaos, like he asked them to, to make everyone busy and not focus on him and Aziraphale. Crowley dodges nearly every single hit from Aziraphale’s sword, and he finally manages to grab his wrist, shoving his arm down so the sword hits the floor.
In the same second he puts his claws on top of his head and takes the spell off him. Aziraphale blinks and his eyes are blue again. He looks shocked at Crowley but there is a relief on his face and adoration, not hate anymore.
“What…” He drops his sword as if it burned him. “Did I…” He looks terrified at the wound on Crowley’s cheek.
“It’s nothing. We need to go.” Crowley grasps him by the shoulders. “Now.”
Aziraphale doesn’t know what’s going on, but the fact that he doesn’t is enough to tell him that he needs to leave.
But Crowley is suddenly shoved forward and Aziraphale hears as he suddenly chokes on air painfully. He looks at him and his face is white and eyes scared. They both look down and the sword that was on the floor moments ago is now piercing through his back and coming out of his chest.
Aziraphale can see over Crowley’s shoulder that Metatron is staring at them, hand still raised.
“Crowley…” Aziraphale catches him when his knees buckle underneath him. “Crowley!”
“Go!” Crowley chokes out but Aziraphale is cradling him in his arms, not listening to a word.
“No…” Aziraphale panics as he can see the light disappearing from his eyes quickly. He puts his hand on his chest trying to use a miracle to get rid of the sword and heal the wound.
Metatron is coming closer.
“Let the demon go!” His voice is strong and it makes Aziraphale’s head hurt. As if someone is drilling in his brain again.
“No.” He keeps his hand on Crowley’s chest, his brain on fire. “I will save you.” He whispers to Crowley who’s pleading him with his eyes and Aziraphale knows it’s not for his life. It’s for Aziraphale’s.
Run, he’s trying to say, but the blood pours from his mouth.
“NO!” Aziraphale sneers so loudly and his voice doesn’t sound like his. “GO TO HELL!” He wonders if his horrified heart makes his voice sound so unearthly.
Crowley needs to live. He’s NOT letting him go!
Metatron stops shocked and for a moment Aziraphale wonders if this is how it’s done. A simple go to hell from a Supreme Archangel to make a fellow angel fall. Then he realises Metatron is looking terrified… at Crowley.
Crowley, with his sharp black claws, with his hand, slim and covered in blood, pointed towards Metatron.
“You’ve heard what he said.” Crowley’s voice doesn’t sound like his either, Aziraphale decides.
A long hiss fills the air.
“You can’t make me fall.” Metatron says confidently. “God is on my side.”
Crowley laughs and more blood pours from his mouth and Aziraphale notices his eyes are red. He still holds him tightly. He only sees Crowley.
“God has forsaken you, Metatron.”
Aziraphale recognises Satan’s voice.
Even when it’s coming out of Crowley’s mouth.
Metatron looks horrified and then his wings burn and he screams.
He falls, in front of them, his wings on fire and they hear him until he’s too far down to see.
Aziraphale sees the red disappearing from Crowley’s eyes and he loses consciousness, body left lifeless in his arms.
He’s never, in his whole life, begged for anything more. Time stops when he pulls the sword out of his back with his hand, lies Crowley on the floor, kneels over him and places both his hands on his chest.
He begs God to bring him back. Puts all his power, everything he knows to bring him back. Begs and begs and begs; and nothing happens.
He can feel the anger building in him and his cheeks are wet from his tears as he looks at Crowley who’s suddenly small and pale and so… gone.
So he prays to Satan too.
He is your Prince, Satan.
And to his shock, suddenly there is white and black smoke coming out of his hands. He knows it’s Heaven and Hell.
It surrounds Crowley’s chest and he sees the bleeding stopping.
And Crowley suddenly breathes again.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale cries out and brings him back in his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He is crying while rocking them lightly back and forth. “You’re going to be okay.”
Aziraphale does not care about anything, but Crowley’s steady breathing in his arms.
He doesn’t see the shocked faces of demons and angels.
And he doesn’t know that somewhere, far, far away, God and Satan cheer to each other, wine in both glasses, satisfaction clear on their faces.