Ineffable Omens (Crowley x Aziraphale)

Not A Very Angel Thing To Do

"Where exactly are we going?" Crowley asked, driving his Bentley along a familiar dirt road. Aziraphale had been giving him directions out if London, and he had a bad feeling they were going some place familiar, though he wasn't sure where.

"Well, I informed the Archangels of our predicament, and I told them I would train you myself and get you, er, initiated, I suppose."

"What does that have to do with Tadfield?" Crowley asked as they entered the small town.

"There's someone here who needs our help."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley and Aziraphale stood outside of Tadfield High School, THS, ready for their first day of work. As if by some sort of strange miracle, two positions had opened up, one for a substitute and one for the grounds maintenance.

"Ready?" Aziraphale asked, looking to his companion.

"As I'll ever be," Crowley sighed, and substitute teacher Ms. Ashtoreth stepped onto the school grounds. She was much different than Nanny Ashtoreth had been. Younger, for one, and with long, wavy red hair that fell perfectly around her shoulders. She wore. White button-up top with a red tie and a black skirt, giving her some of her normal color back. Crowley hadn't necessarily needed to disguise herself, but she jumped at any chance she could to present as female. While she and Aziraphale were both sexless and presented as male, Aziraphale was far more comfortable as a man than Crowley had ever been. It had its perks, yes, but it just wasn't quite right sometimes. Anyhow, she had taken this opportunity to present as female. She already felt uncomfortable enough as an angel, she didn't need to feel uncomfortable in the gender she presented as.

Crowley stood in front of the A-block history class, and let's just say, those kid put the ass in class. As in they were all assholes. Every single one. She could have murdered them right then and there. Ms. Ashtoreth had to put up with two hellish classes before finally she was able to do the "good work" Aziraphale had planned for them to do, although Crowley most likely did it quite differently than Aziraphale had intended.

On her way to find a deserted corner to eat her lunch in, Crowley came across a group of boys gathered around the lockers. The tallest had a 17-year-old Adam Young pinned up again the locker.

"What're you gon' do?" Greasy Johnson asked. "Go home crying to papa? Go crying to Wensleydale and Brian?"

"S-stop, please! You're hurting me," Adam stammered.

"What're you going to do about it, pansy? You fucking faggot. Why don't you just kill yourself already? It'd do the world a favor."

"Back away," Crowley said, grabbing Johnson and pulling him away from Adam. Adam rubbed his wrists where Johnson had been gripping him.

"What the fuck?" Johnson scowled, unused to being called out like that, much less physically stopped in any way.

"What did you just say to that boy?" Crowley asked, pushing her large circular sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Nuthin, I swear," Johnson said. "We were just having a conversation. It's really nothing. You can go now."

"No, I don't think I will. You called him a pansy, right? And a faggot. I want you to imagine something for a second," Crowley said, jabbing her family into his collarbone. "You come to school tomorrow and everyone is talking about how Adam Young killed himself. After you told him to. Well guess who's fault that is?"

"Not mine—"

"You're not innocent. You have no idea who you're talking to. Do you ever stop to think that maybe one day you'll say that to someone for whom every single day is a fight to stay alive. Who tells themselves over and over they would be better off dead? They don't need your voice saying it too. Now apologize to Adam."

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong." Johnson laughed. "I mean, Adam isn't suicidal. It's just a joke."

"How would you know?" Crowley asked, and Johnson's eyes glanced to Adam, who looked down at his feet nervously. "Now go rethink your entire pathetic existence."

Johnson rolled his eyes. "Whatever, fag."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You punched a kid?!" Aziraphale said angrily. "Crowley! We're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves, you know that! And a kid, Crowley, a kid! How could you? What could he have possibly done to deserve—"

"He—" Crowley started, but Aziraphale wasn't done.

"And you know the head office will be mad. I mean that was not a very angel thing to do—"

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want to be an angel!" Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale was silent. "You don't ... you can't mean ..."

"I'm going home," Crowley said quietly. "We can talk tomorrow."