Favourite Demon (The Entire Bloody Boring Fourteenth Century Part I)

1328 CE, Coventry

Crowley was almost glad that he had missed the last few years in Europe. Heaven had allowed Famine to stalk the land for years, and the stories of starvation, cannibalism and infanticide that Crowley heard in the taverns and fields as he searched for the angel made him shudder. He felt that he had almost been given a reprieve by being left in Hell instead.

He couldn't understand why Heaven had wanted this; the people had seen too clearly that their desperate prayers reached deaf ears, and Church's power had waned against the anger and sorrow. Crowley would bet that the angels had been told not to intervene, not even when seed stocks were depleted and there was barely anyone alive and well enough to sew the seed.

He also knew of one angel who would not be able to follow those orders.

Crowley talked to people, and asked about crops that suddenly gave multiple heads of grain or ripened faster, animals that waxed fat on little feed, and followed the miracles.

He gathered news along the way, and the disgust and pain he felt amazed him. Maybe this was the new torment, maybe Hell really had been easier. Maybe the Almighty knew what she was about, and being sent to Earth was not the easier escape he had thought for the last thousands of years. All he knew was that the one safe ground he could think of in this new world was Aziraphale.

He found him at last, resting by a newly planted field, dressed as a monk and drinking some thin beer, surrounded by children and their parents. There was something defeated about the set of his shoulders, a sadness that Crowley hadn't seen since Sodom. It hurt to see his sunny angel like that. Crowley hesitated, and switched forms before approaching.

When a huge black snake slithered out of the undergrowth and wrapped itself around Aziraphale, farming implements were raised to strike as soon as they could kill the monster without harming him.

"No, no, it's quite all right," Aziraphale said, and his voice was both surprised and happy. Surely Crowley didn't imagine joy and energy flickering back into those tired eyes. "This is an old friend, one I haven't seen for a long time." He scratched the massive serpent head that pressed against his, and Crowley flicked a long tongue against his cheek, clinging and kissing in a way he wouldn't dare in a human resembling form.

"But it's a snake!" squeaked one child.

"He's God's creature all the same, John." Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale chided him gently. "You know it's true, Crowley, whether you like it or not."

"Crawly?" John asked. "It suits him." Crowley snake hissed again, but in a more friendly tone, and slid down to curl in a circle on Aziraphale's lap.

The angel stroked him with two fingers, smiling softly. "There. I've missed you more than I should admit, my dear. I was afraid you would never return from under the ground." Crowley could feel the sense of loss fading, replaced with the sunshine of the angel's presence.

"He's pretty," said a little girl. She reached out a tentative hand, and Aziraphale showed her how to use two fingers to pet the snake with a feather-light touch. Crowley flickered his tongue at Aziraphale in feigned annoyance, but allowed the touch.

"Unfortunately he knows just how pretty he is," Aziraphale said, sighing. Crowley hissed smugly, and the children laughed.

The children's father relaxed. "It's like he understands what you are saying. Even the beasts of the field love you." A strange look sparked in Aziraphale's mobile features, and his lashes fluttered, his cheeks reddening.

"But Brother Ezra," a child said, her big brown eyes worried, "aren't snakes evil? Weren't they cursed to crawl on their bellies and eat dust for causing humanity's downfall? That's what the Priest said."