Falling Heavenward: A Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale Fanfic

The Angel of Redemption and the Lord of the Files

London, Four Days ago.

Heaven hadn't left Aziraphale alone as long as he'd hoped.

"Hello, Aziraphale," said a melodious voice, and he swallowed his cocoa down fast, looking at the almost unbearably perfect face of Uriel, the ironically named Prince of Repentance, pitiless as any demon. Certainly more pitiless than the demon Aziraphale spent most of his time with. Uriel, who was set over the final tortures of the sinners on the Day of Judgment, and had only recently been thwarted in her mission.

The words echoed in his head. And this was it, then. If Uriel had worked out the swapped bodies trick, then the river of hellfire would be waiting for him, and there would be no escape. Perhaps it would be better than Falling, after all. He hoped Crowley would have the sense to run for it, because if Heaven had suspicions, then—

"Hullo, Aziraphale," said a rather less lovely voice. "Long time no see."

Aziraphale put his mug down quickly. "Hello, Uriel, Dagon. You are unusual company. What brings you to my shop?"

"We thought, " Dagon said, smiling, "you might like to cut a deal." Aziraphale looked into the demonic smile, and remembered the gleeful condemnation of Crowley to death by holy water, and mustered all his courage to smile serenely at them. It helped that Dagon was far more demure looking and less scaly up on Earth than in the dripping mess of Hell. With their red hair and frills around their neck like an Australian lizard, they could pass for one of the more attractive Tudors.

"An infernal contract? I'm afraid— "

"Not just infernal," Uriel said, in her smooth, cold voice. "Holy as well. And not a contract. An offer. A way out of this mutually unpleasant impasse."

"A trilateral negotiation, you might say," Dagon put in helpfully.

"I'll just call Crowley to come in and discuss it," Aziraphale said, wondering just how to phrase the phone call in order to warn Crowley what was up without arousing their suspicions. Even if he was doomed, Crowley might be able to make it out alone.

"No. No phone calls. Crowley already has a contract signed and sealed, six thousand years ago." Uriel's smile frosted her lips like ice. "The balance must be kept, Aziraphale. You understand that."

A terrible certainty leapt into his heart. "You want me to Fall, to save Crowley?" He couldn't help feeling personally betrayed. Of course Uriel had condemned him to extinction, threatened him, but he was a fair angel, he could see in retrospect that was just part of her job. This, though—she was from his team.

On the other hand. To save Crowley. It wasn't really like he had any choice. He took a deep breath, feeling sick and giddy with fear. "All right."

Dagon laughed. "What use would your smudged little soul be to our Prince? You're probably going to belong to us eventually anyway. No, don't worry about that."

Aziraphale blinked, feeling relieved, and guilty to be relieved, and also a little insulted. "What exactly do you want of me, then?"

Uriel shrugged a beautiful shoulder, making her perfectly tailored suit rise and fall like the swelling of the sea. "I want to give you and your boyfriend a chance at redemption. After all, isn't that my job?"

"But fair's fair," said Dagon. "Balance and all that. There has to be a chance of failure, as well. An excellent chance."

"So what do you want of me?"

The angel and demon exchanged meaningful glances, and Aziraphale had the unsettling idea that they understood each other far better than he had ever understood any of the other angels.