"We're On Our Side, Serpent."

What happened..?

Crowley was sitting, gazing out at London on his throne.

He had watered the plants, and was threatened by his fellow demons.

Typical.

He hissed quietly under his breathe.

This is Anthony J. Crowley, you know what to do, do with it style.

The demon perked up at the answering machine.

Crowley! Listen! I haven't got much time. It's in Tadfield, It's all in that book!

Crowley narrowed his eyes, standing up. He headed outside to his car.

His Bentley awaited him, parked outside as it usually was. The moment the demon sat down within it, the engine sparked to life. Crowley silently drove the Bentley off to the bookshop, Queen quietly breaking the silence that surrounded the interior of the car.

~A Small Drive Later~

The Bentley parked beside the bookshop. Firemen were standing around, a look of confused horror frozen on their faces.

"What's all the fuss?" Crowley eventually asked, standing beside one of them.

"The- it's gone..." They stuttered.

"What's gone?" Crowley retorted.

"Burning bits," One of the other firemen said.

The demon raised an eyebrow, "Alright, whatever you say."

He approached the bookshop doors, flinging them open.

"Angel?" Crowley exclaimed.

"Hm?" Aziraphale's voice replied.

"What's with all the firemen outside?" The demon questioned, examining the bookshop.

"Oh, there was a small fire," Aziraphale replied, poking his head around one of the bookshelves, "It's tickety-boo now!"

Crowley had the same face as the firemen outside now.

Aziraphale looked a bit different. A black marking crossed the left side of his face. It curled about, just as the now absent flames did. His short, fluffy hair had darkened to a dark brown with streaks of gray and black throughout it. Jet-black curled horns strewn from the top his head.

The former angel now wore a black suit pinned together by a single button near the waist. A silver vest covered a cream-colored, lacy shirt. It seemed to be the only thing that reminded Crowley of Aziraphale's original looks. A single obsidian broach adorned his neck. A pair of black dress pants and knee-high, heeled boots (Also black) hid Aziraphale's legs.

"What happened...?" Crowley mustered.

"What happened...? What?" Aziraphale repeated.

"Oh, I don't know, YOU?" The demon yelled.

"Me?" Aziraphale cocked his head, before looking down at himself, "Oh that! Yes, I just got a sudden burst of energy, and here all this is!"

Crowley stared in confusion, drawing his lips back slightly.

"I feel as free as a bird!" Aziraphale chirped, fluttering his arms around and prancing around the bookshop.

"Alright," Crowley muttered, "What were you saying about Tadfield? The book?"

"Tadfield.. Tadfield, Tadfield..." Aziraphale uttered, snapping his fingers, "Ah, yes! That's where the antichrist lives."

"Great, then let's head over there!" Crowley suggested, rushing towards the front door, "And might as well hide those horns while your at it."

"I think they're cool," Aziraphale commented.

"You're also the one that said tartan is stylish," Crowley mentioned, walking out of the bookshop, quickly followed by Aziraphale.