The Curious Condition of Being Human

Chapter 1

Actual human man Anthony J. Crowley woke up one morning from his very human sleep. He changed from his human pajamas into an all-black ensemble and drank a quantity of coffee about twenty percent higher than the average for persons living in the United Kingdom. As far as he knew, he'd had hundreds of such mornings over the course of his mortal life.

There had not been hundreds of such mornings. In fact, there had been a grand total of three. That was because he was not an actual human man at all, but a demon who had been made to forget his true nature.

It was a misguided plan, hatched by a rare bout of demonic and angelic cooperation. This rare event had happened in the wake of an inexplicable show of power that seemed to defy explanation. An angel withstanding hellfire and a demon bathing in holy water should have been utterly impossible. Which of course, was entirely correct. It was in fact, a ruse by a wiley angel and demon pair who had chosen their faces wisely.

For a time, the forces of heaven and hell had left Aziraphale and Crowley alone. But as plans began to form, worry began to grow that the pair would somehow thwart them again.

It was quite impossible to change a celestial being's core nature. But to alter memory was entirely within their power.

"If they want to live among humans," said the archangel Gabriel to Beelzebub the Prince of Hell, "Let them. If they think they are humans, maybe they'll stay the heaven out of our way."

"Agreed," said Beelzebub. "If they're busily flitting about, playing human, then they won't be able to poke their noses into our business."

And so the deal was struck and the curse made. Or rather, a curse crossed with a smite as the power involved in suppressing their memory couldn't be achieved by the powers of Heaven or Hell alone.

It wasn't a terrible plan on the face of it. Both angel and demon had established themselves within the mortal world. They had places of residence, they had favourite sandwich shops and subscriptions to magazines. They had feuds with neighbours and potted plants. As they lived with all the trappings of mortal men, the memory alteration did not need to be extreme.

In hindsight, the forces of Heaven and Hell should have tried a wee bit harder to force the pair to masquerade as human. But then, overconfidence in their own plans was a hallmark of both sides.

Crowley exited his home and walked with a wide, long-legged stride along the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the crowd with slithering quickness. He was en route to Aziraphale's bookshop. His companion had been at a rare book conference in Oxford for the last few days and had been due back the evening before.

Crowley could have driven the distance to his friend's bookshop, but it was a lovely sunny day and besides, driving in Central London was not an activity to engage in if one had any other option. It was a bit of a trek, but his broad stride and high-metabolism pace ate up the distance in no time.

"Crowley!"

The lanky demon-who-believed-he-was-human spun a hundred and eighty degrees on the ball of his pointy-toed shoe and looked over the top of his shades. At the moment, his eyes looked quite human rather than serpentine. That little trick had actually a more difficult miracle than the memory wiping, as it turned out. Some parts of a celestial's nature were so intrinsic that it refused to be easily hidden. Back in the day, Crowley had experimented with a few methods himself before deciding that shades were much, much easier.

"Hello Duncan. What's all this then?"

Duncan was a musician Crowley had helped secure a set of amps a few months back. The curly-haired man in his early twenties was offloading said amps from a van in front of a small church. "We've got a gig tonight, in large part thanks to you."