Rating: M Word count: 10206 Summary: Aziraphale was feeling the melancholy and loneliness that came along the thought of ringing in the new year alone, as opposed to all the times he had done it with Crowley as of late. Consumed by emotions he cannot quite make sense of, nor control, he heads back down to Earth to talk to Crowley. Only to find the demon haven’t been there for months, dragged down to Hell as soon as the angel had left. The only thing left to do was to head down there and rescue him, but first, he needed a disguise worthy of Hell. But was it truly all but an act?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Aziraphale excused himself and exited the bookshop, Muriel looked as broken as Aziraphale felt. He couldn’t possible go back to heaven, not after learning what he had. This was just supposed to have been a quick pop down, in and out before anyone noticed his desk gaping empty as they inevitable dropped off more mindless paperwork. How could he even consider signing paper after paper, pretending as if nothing had changed even after everything had shifted after learning Crowley was stuck in Hell for God knows which terrible made up reasoning, and it was nothing short of his own damned fault. No, he had to fix this, set things right. It was his responsibility to do so. How many times hadn’t Crowley come to his rescue? Perhaps it was about time the roles were reversed. The perfect Plan had already started to form in his mind. His lips turned assertively, imagining the surprise on Crowley’s face as he came busting down into Hell for him. That is, if he could pull it off. Although he had sat with Crowley along plenty of those unnecessarily violence filled films Crowley seemed to enjoy so much. That combined with the endless knowledge books had provided him with, in particular the classic settings of saving people in distress from hungry dragons or other monstrous creatures, he felt the most assuredly prepared for the task at hand. How hard could it be? He had a history of being exceedingly witty, when he put effort into it, after all.
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