Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What’s this?” Sam asked as he pulled a large crate off the shelf. He blew the dust off. 

Dean coughed and waved his hand to clear the air. “Probably another box of useless crap,” he said, following his brother across the room. They had been going through the bunker’s store rooms, looking for anything that could help Cas with his war in Heaven. So far, the Men of Letters’ collection had been a bunch of dangerous artifacts that weren’t doing much good to anyone.

“Maybe not,” Sam said. He was always hopeful that they could find something worthwhile. He cracked open the crate. The hinges screeched with an ominous tone. Sam looked over the box at his brother before folding the lid back. Six golden scrolls were nestled in a bed of straw.

“What the?” Dean asked.

Sam reached in and picked one up. He carefully unrolled the fragile scroll. Golden ink shimmered on white paper. The writing was unlike anything from Earth. Sam’s eyes ran over the twisting characters. “You better call Cas,” he said. “I think this is Enoch.”

Dean glanced over his brother’s shoulder. The writhing words looked like worms were having some kind of party across the page. It gave him something of a headache to look at. Closing his eyes, he thought of Castiel. “Hey Cas,” he prayed. “Get your feathered ass down here. I think we have something that can help.” Dean opened his eyes and looked around, but the angel didn’t show up. He gave his brother a resigned look. Cas was busy in Heaven with his war. “Let’s take these out so Cas can take a look when he gets here.”

Sam nodded his agreement and rolled the scroll up. He set it back into the box. “I want to see if I can figure these out.”

Dean turned around and squeaked as he nearly ran into Cas.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said in that raspy tone of his.

“Damn, dude,” Dean protested as he pushed Cas back. “Personal space.”

Cas took a step back. “You called?”

“Yes,” Dean said irritated with the angel. He turned around and took out the scroll Sam had put back in the box. “Take a look at this.” He handed the object to Cas. 

Cas carefully unrolled the scroll. “It’s Enoch,” he said as his eyes traced over the writing.

“What does it say?” Sam asked.

Cas shook his head as he unrolled more of the paper. “I recognize the letters, but I can’t read this,” he said. “It’s in a dialect that I don’t know.”

“A dialect you don’t know?” Dean echoed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he can’t read it,” Sam said crossly. He pulled another scroll out of the box. This one looked very similar to the first.

“I realized that,” Dean snapped. He looked at the new scroll. “Enoch is the language of Angels. Why can’t you read it?”

Irritation bent Cas’s brow. “There are many forms of Enoch in Heaven,” he explained as he rolled up the scroll. “This form was used before the Great Fall.”

“The Great Fall?” Dean asked.

Sam made an exasperated noise in his throat. “The one where God cast Lucifer out of Heaven,” he said tiredly.

“I get that,” Dean snapped. He turned his attention back to Cas. “You can’t read this.”

“No,” Cas said, handing the scroll to Sam. “I never learned this version of Enoch.”

“But someone in Heaven has to know it,” Sam said taking the scrolls and putting them back in the box. “These could be important.”

“Maybe Arora,” Cas said, thinking about the possibilities.

“Who’s Arora?” Dean asked. 

“She’s Heaven’s librarian,” Cas explained, “But she’d been busy keeping the records from being destroyed in the fights. I doubt she would come look at these for us.”

“Then who else?” Sam pressed.

Cas turned and paced away from them, thinking. “There might be one other.” He stopped and turned back to the Winchesters. “But no one has heard from him in nearly thirty years.”

“Who?” Dean prompted.

“Aziraphael,” Cas answered. 

“Aziraphael?” Sam repeated. “Really?”

“Who’s that?” Dean questioned.

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s the angel tasked with guarding the Eastern Gate of Eden.”

“As in the Garden of Eden,” Dean said, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Cas said, explaining things. “He was there when God cast Adam and Eve out. He sealed up the gates behind them and has been watching over man ever since.”

“How long has that been?” Dean asked.

“Roughly six thousand years,” Cas explained.

“Wow,” Dean said in awe. 

“So how do we get a hold of him?” Sam asked.

“No one’s talked with Aziraphael since he and the demon Crawly stopped the Apocalypse thirty years ago,” Cas said.

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “There was an Apocalypse thirty years ago?”

“Yes,”Cas said. “Aziraphael and Crawly helped the Aintichrist stop it before it actually got started.”

“Why didn’t we hear about this?” Sam asked.

Cas shrugged. “It was in England.”

“Oh,” Dean exclaimed. “Stupid English. Aren’t good at sharing anything important.”

Sam gave Dean a dirty look before turning his attention back to Cas. “So how do we reach him?”

“Summon him,” Cas said. He walked over to the table and picked up the notebook Sam had been using to catalog the items they’d found. He drew a complicated symbol on the page. “Use his sigil.” He handed the paper to Sam. “I’ve got to get back now.”

Dean didn’t even have a moment to speak before Cas disappeared to the sound of wings flapping. “Feathered dick,” he mumbled at the angel that wasn’t there anymore.

Sam pursed his lips and glared at his brother. “You do know Cas is fighting a war in Heaven right now.”

Dean slammed the lid down on the scrolls. “He could have waited around to see if these things could help him.”

Sam clutched the paper with the sigil in his hand. “It’s going to take me several hours to set up this summonings. I doubt he has time to wait for that, jerk.” He headed out to get things ready.

“Bitch,” Dean snarked. He picked up the box with the scrolls and followed his brother out.

Chapter Text

Sam looked at the empty summoning circle. “Where is he?” he asked. He ran over the ritual in his mind, looked at the circle, and checked the ingredients. Everything was right, but Azirapheal had not come. 

“Obviously you fucked it up,” Dean complained.

“Do you want to try?” Sam snapped back. 

Dean looked over everything Sam had done. It all looked perfect. He closed his eyes and prayed again. “Cas, we need you.”

The sound of wings fluttering made Dean open his eyes.

“You called?” Cas asked.

“It didn’t work,” Sam said, waving at the failed summoning.

Cas stared at the circle. “But it should have.” He walked over and inspected the different parts of the ritual. Everything looked correct. “Unless something has happened to him?”

“How do we find out?” Dean asked.

Cas circled the room once more, thinking. “The demon Crawly,” he finally whispered. He raised his voice so the brothers could hear. “Aziraphael was last seen in the company of a demon. Summon him and see if he knows what happened to the angel.” He hurried over and drew another sigil on the paper. “Be careful,” he warned. “Crawly isn’t a normal demon. He’s a Fallen Angel.”

“A what?” Dean gasped.

“A Fallen Angel,” Cas replied. “He was among the first cast out of Heaven with Lucifer. A Tempter and inventor of Original Sin.”

“The Serpent of Eden?” Sam gasped.

“How the fuck do you know all this shit?” Dean griped at his brother.

Sam glared at him. “There’s a very popular book on this subject. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called the Bible.”

If looks could kill, Sam would be dead from the glare Dean shot back. “I thought Lucifer tempted Eve.”

Cas shook his head. “No. The Garden was too heavily guarded for Lucifer to get in. But a lesser demon did manage to slip by.” The angel shifted in an anxious way.

Dean let out a sigh. “We’ll call you when we have something.”

Cas nodded and disappeared again.

Sam picked up the new sigil. It looked as if a snake had twisted it’s way across the page. “How do you feel about summoning a Fallen Angel?”

Dean snickered. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Chapter Text

The Winchester brothers agreed to use a standard devil’s trap with the Fallen Angel’s name set into the barrier. They’d also laid a ring of holy oil around the trap in case the devil’s trap didn’t hold him. 

Sam dropped a match into the bowl full of ingredients and spoke the ritual of summoning. A flash of light filled the room and a man shaped being popped into existence inside the circle.

“Bloody hell,” it cursed. The creature spun around in the devil’s trap, looking at its surroundings. Its eyes stopped on its naming sigil written into the trap. Slowly it turned to face the brothers.

Dean stared. He wasn’t sure what he had expected in the Fallen Angel, but the creature in front of him was not it. Tall and lanky, the short-haired ginger was dressed in a pair of black silk pajamas with a white mug in his hand. A pair of dark sunglasses perched on his nose. 

“What in Manchester’s name do you want?” the demon snarled.

The brothers exchanged a look before Sam spoke. “Are you the demon Crawly?”

“No,” the demon snapped. He shifted the mug so it was cradled in his hand. “Haven’t gone by that name in three or four millennia. Names Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley.”

“Crowley,” Dean gasped. He narrowed his eyes at the demon. What kind of douche wore sunglasses in his pajamas? “You aren’t the King of Hell.”

“W’ot?” Crowley exclaimed. “The King of Hell? Where’d you get that bloody idea.”

Sam and Dean exchanged another glance. 

“Crowley, the Crossroads demon,” Sam explained. “He’s the King of Hell.”

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Him.” He glanced down at the cup in his hand and took a sip. “The bastard that stole my name. Didn’t realize he was doing so well.” He took another sip from the cup. “Naa, ‘m not him. ‘m in PR not sales. ‘Sides, ‘m retired.”

“Retired?” Dean asked.

Crowley’s glare cut through the dark glasses and dug at Dean. “Yes retired. As in not working for Down There anymore.” He turned his focus to Sam and cocked his hip. “Want to tell me what the Hell you want?”

Sam cleared his throat. “We’re looking for Aziraphael? Can you tell us where he is?”

Both of the demon’s eyebrows rose out from behind his glasses “A Zi Raphael ,” he exclaimed. “What the Hell do you want with him?”

“It’s none of your business,” Dean snapped. 

“Oh it issss my bussssinesssss,” Crowley hissed. He dropped the sunglasses down and glared at the brothers over the top. His golden eyes were filled with anger. “What do you want with my angel?”

Fear shot through both of the brothers. “Yellow eyes,” Sam growled through clenched teeth. 

“Azazel,” Dean whispered and pulled out the angel blade he’d stashed in the back of his jeans.

“Oh please,” Crowley growled. “I have nothing to do with that arsehole.” He pulled his glasses off so the brothers could see his eyes clearly. “They are golden not yellow.”

Both Sam and Dean blinked and stared at the demon’s eyes. They were, in fact, golden with elongated pupils. Just like a snakes.

“The Serpent of Eden” Sam whispered. 

Crowley smiled and slipped his glasses back on. “The one and only.”

“But I thought that was just a story,” Dean protested.

The smile on Crowley’s face widened. “It’s a bit more literal than most realize.” He took another sip from the cup and frowned. “But we don’t have time to go into that. The cocoa is getting cold.” He pinned the boys with another sharp gaze. “What do you want with my angel?”

“Um.” Sam stammered as he jumped into action. “We wanted to know if he could translate something for us.” 

The demon seemed surprised. “Translate somefin?”

Sam nodded and pulled one of the scrolls out of the box. He stretched it out and showed the demon the writing. “It’s in an old dialect of Enoch. We can’t read it and wanted to know if he can.”

The demon’s eyes scanned over the page. A mischievous smile curled his lips. “Oh ‘m sure he could.” He considered them. “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll let you go unharmed,” Dean offered. He brandished the blade in front of him.

Crowley glared at them again. “How generous,” he snarked throwing his head around in mockery as he spoke. “Letting me out of a cage you put me in. How thoughtful.” He pointed his attention back at them hard. “Now, offer something worth my effort.” Amusement flashed on the demon’s face and he stifled a laugh. He raised the cup up to his face. “Effort,” he muttered in glee and took another sip.

The brothers exchanged another glance and leaned in together. 

“Dude,” Dean whispered. “This demon is weird.”

“I know,” Sam agreed in a quiet tone. “But if he can get us in touch with Aziraphael. And the angel can translate the scrolls. What’s it worth?”

“Not our souls,” Dean answered. The brothers stood up and addressed Crowley.

“What do you want?” Sam asked.

“Thought you’d never asked,” Crowley said standing taller. His eyes dropped to the box of scrolls. “I want the scrolls.”

“No,” Dean objected instantly.

“Is my price,” Crowley said. He took a sip from the cup. “I’ll get you the angel, have him transcribe and translate…” He paused and looked at the box. “How many are there?”

Sam looked at the box. “Six.”

Crowley smiled excitedly. “...all six of the scroll, in leather bound editions. You give me the originals.”

Dean pulled on Sam’s sleeve. The brothers stepped away from the circle and leaned their heads together. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “What does a demon want with scrolls written in Enoch?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, glancing back at the waiting demon. There seemed to be glee on his face as he stared at the box of scrolls. “But what other choice do we have? Cas can’t read them, and they might be useful.”

“But what if they’re dangerous?” Dean asked. “We can’t let something like that fall into the hands of a demon.”

“Then we put that into the deal,” Sam stood up and moved back to face Crowley. “Aziraphael transcribes and translates the scrolls, in their entirety, in both the original Enoch and in English. But we retain the right to keep the scrolls if they contain something dangerous.”

“Done,” Crowley agreed.

“We also get to keep them if they can be used as weapons,” Dean added.

Crowley thought about it for a long moment. 

The brothers held their breath, waiting.

“Anything can be used as a weapon,” the demon pointed out.

“In Cas’s fight in Heaven,” Sam added.

Crowley considered it. “If the scrolls themselves can be used to harm ethereal beings on more than a physical plane.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed.

After another long minute, Crowley nodded. “Agreed.”

“So how do we contact Aziraphael,” Dean asked.

Crowley held out his hand. “Give me your mobile.”

Dean gave him a confused look. 

“You’re phone,” the demon explained.

Dean slipped his phone out of his pocket. Holding the angel blade in front of him, he carefully held the phone out to the demon. “No tricks.”

“Never dream of it,” Crowley sassed as he took the phone. He punched in a series of numbers and held it out to Dean. “Can’t call him in here,” the demon explained. 

Dean took the phone and looked at the number. It had more digits than a normal telephone number should. He hit the send button and held the phone up to his ear. After a moment it started ringing. “What should I say?” Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged. “What you normally say on a mobile.”

Dean glared as he listened to the phone ring. 

“Introduce yourself,” Crowley said with a huff. “Tell him I’m here. Tell him where here is. Tell him I’m safe and need him here.” He paused. “And tell him the cocoa is getting cold.”

After an absorbent number of rings, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Dean’s eyes snapped up to his brother’s. “Ah…” he said, not sure what to say. He wasn’t expecting such a polite voice. “Aziraphael?”

“Oh Good Lord,” the voice exclaimed. “Is someone spreading that rumor again? Did Crowley put you up to this?”

Dean looked over to find the demon smirking at him. “No,” he snapped, irritated with the demon. “Well, yes,” he backpedaled. “He did give me your number, but he didn’t say anything about the name.”

“Oh good,” the voice said. “I would have to be very cross with him for spreading that rumor again. Really. ‘Helps Heal God’. I am a Principality not a healer. He knows how much I dislike being misnamed.” The ramble came to an end and the voice cleared its throat. “Do forgive me, I did not mean to complain. My names Aziraphale. How can I help you?”

“Ah,” Dean said again before his mind caught on what Crowley had told him to say. “I’m Dean Winchester. We have the demon Crowley in Lebanon Kansas. We need you to come here and… ah…”

“Come save me, Angel,” Crowley cried.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Is he safe?”

Dean looked over at the demon. “For now.”

Crowley pointed at the cup in his hand.

“And the cocoa is getting cold,” Dean added.

There was a long pause on the phone before Aziraphale spoke again. “Let me get my things.”  The line went dead before Dean could say anything else.

***

Crowley smiled over Aziraphale’s cup. He wasn’t sure who these idiots were, but they were in for a huge surprise. The shorter of the two, Dean, stared at his phone in confusion. “What did he say?” Crowley asked.

Dean looked up at the demon. “He said he would get his things.”

Crowley worked to keep the smile on his face from growing. He had planned for a quiet night listening to Aziraphale read, but this was going to be much more fun. “Then you had better go let him in.” He touched the cup, refilling it. It wouldn’t do to let Aziraphale know that he really did like the angel’s cocoa. He made sure it was just the right temperature for his angel.  Now to wait and watch the excitement.

Chapter Text

Dean stared at the strange demon. A knock rang through the bunker. The brothers exchanged a surprised look and Sam raced out of the room towards the front door. Dean was fast on his heels. 

Sam’s hand slipped to the gun in the back of his pants as he opened the door. The man standing there was not what either brother expected. He was shorter than Dean and slightly pudgy. A white shock of curls laid ruffled around his head. His cream colored suit was nearly a century out of date with a tartan bow tie wrapped stylishly around his neck. He held an uncapped fountain pen in his hand.

“Good afternoon,” the man said, pointing the pen at Sam. “Are you Dean?”

“No,” Sam said. “I’m his brother, Sam.”

“Ah,” the man said. “I am Aziraphale. I have come for my demon.”

Unsure how to react, Sam pushed the door wide, letting the angel in. “He’s down stairs.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He seemed surprised that Sam was inviting him in. “Jolly good.” He held the pen back and stepped inside.

Dean gripped the angel blade and watched as the man-shaped being came into the bunker. He closed his eyes and send Cas a prayer. “He’s here.” He opened his eyes just as Aziraphale made it to the floor. 

“You must be Dean,” Aziraphale said, holding out his hand in greeting. 

Dean shook it. 

“Where is my demon?” Aziraphale asked.

Dean pointed towards the door that lead into the dungeon.

Aziraphale nodded and turned towards the hall without a word.

Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks, but followed the angel down to the chamber where Crowley was being held. 

The angel stopped just inside the door and cast an appraising look over the room. His eyes finally stopped on the smiling demon.

“Hello, Angel,” he said. 

“Really,” Aziraphale said as he crossed the room to stand just outside the summoning circle. “If you did not want to listen to Charles Dickens again, I could have found something else to read tonight.”

“Wasn’t my fault,” the demon protested. “They're the ones who summoned me.” He pointed at the Winchester brothers, standing by the door. 

The angel crossed his arms in an irritated fashion. 

“They True Named me,” the demon protested again. He pointed at the sigil written in the devil’s trap.

The angel let out a sigh, dropped his arms, and walked around to look at the sign. He bent at the waist and studied the floor. “So they did,” the angel said, sounding impressed. “They even got the accent right.” He stood up and gave the demon a confused look. “But you know this will not hold you. Why did you need me to come rescue you?”

“Oh, right,” Crowley said as if he'd just realized himself. He stepped out of the circle like it wasn’t even there. 

Both Sam and Dean gasped and reached for their weapons. 

The angel and demon ignored them.

“Here,” Crowley held out the mug of cocoa. 

Aziraphale smiled and took it. “Thank you, my dear, but I do not think this is the time for that.” He took a sip from the cup anyway. A smile of pure joy covered his face. “Delicious.” He turned his eyes back to the demon. The joy slipped away from his eyes. “Why are we here?”

“Cause I made a deal,” the demon answered.

“Crowley,” the angel reclaimed in exasperation.

“No, no,” the demon said as he crossed the room to the box of scrolls. “You’ll like this.” He reached in and pulled one out.

Confused, Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The cup of cocoa disappeared. He closed the distance between them and took the scroll from the demon’s hand. “What is this?”

“Scrolls the Winchester boys found,” the demon explained. “They wanted me to bring you here to translate them.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up as they raced down the scroll. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“Um hm,” Crowley said in a smug tone. “Best part, if you transcribe and translate them, we get to keep them.”

The angel gasped and looked up at the demon. “Really?” he said in a hopeful voice. 

Crowley smiled and nodded. “Yup.” He popped the P with style. “Now put your pen away and get started.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and handed Crowley the scroll. He recapped his pen and slipped it into his coat pocket before reaching for the scroll again.

Crowley gave it to him and snapped his fingers. His silk pajamas transformed into a horribly tight pair of skinny jeans and a black jumper. He wiggled in his clothing, settling it into the right place before turning to face the Winchesters. “Where would you like him?”

Sam pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “The library.”

Crowley smiled. “He’ll like that.” He placed one hand on the engrossed angel’s shoulder and tucked the box of scrolls under the other arm. “Lead the way.” 

Sam stepped out to lead the way.

The demon propelled the angel along as if this was a normal thing. 

Dean followed behind not exactly sure what was going on.

Chapter Text

Dean sat at the far end of the table and watched Aziraphale work. True to his word, the demon had set up the angel with six leather bound books, a pot of ink, and a quill made with a shimmery, black feather. 

The angel had smiled at the offered gift and set about transcribing the scrolls into the leather volumes. He had been at it for nearly a day without moving much.

“Break time!” Crowley cried as he strolled into the library. He held two large sacks of food. 

Dean looked up to find Sam had followed the demon in.

Sam shrugged and leaned against the door frame.

The demon set his burden down on the first table and walked over to the angel. He carefully took the quill from the angel’s hand.

“Crowley,” the angel protested.

“If you don’t stop now, your food ’ill get cold,” the demon said in an almost loving voice.

The angel blinked at him and moved back from the table. “I guess we can not have that.”

The demon smiled and laid the quill down next to the bottle of ink. “Come on, Angel,” he coaxed. “Brought your favorite. Pak boong. From that little place in Soho you like so much.”

“Oh, how lovely,” the angel said as he moved towards the table where Dean was sitting. “Did you bring…”

“Yes,” Crowley answered, cutting the angel off. “Sweet Thai crepes.” He glared at Dean as he sat the angel in a new chair. “Brought enough for everyone, too.”

“Oh, that is very…” Aziraphale started.

“Don’t say it,” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale smiled, but didn’t finish the sentence.  He turned his attention to pulling out the various containers of Thai food and passing them out. “Please,” he called to Sam, “come sit.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. Sam shrugged and headed towards his brother. Before he could get close, Crowley circled the table and claimed the seat next to Dean. Sam shot Dean another confused look before moving to take the seat next to Aziraphale. 

“Here,” the angel said, placing a container in front of Sam. “You will love this, my dear.”

Sam took the container and pulled off the top to find kai med ma muang. It looked amazing. “Thank you.” He took the offered plastic ware. 

Dean got a dish full of Pad Thai with chicken. He looked over at Crowley. Aziraphale hadn’t passed him a dish. “Are you eating?” he asked.

“Na,” the demon said as he miracled up a bottle of Mekhong. He poured some in four glasses that hadn’t been on the table a moment ago. “Eat’n's his thing.” He passed the glasses out to everyone. “I’m just here for the show.”

Aziraphale shot him a sharp look, but didn’t say anything. He took the glass of alcohol with a nod before turning his attention to the dish of pak boong in front of him. A look of pure rapture covered his face as he took the first bite of food. “Oh, that is divine,” he moaned. 

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. There were occasions when Cas had eaten with them, but their angel hadn’t enjoyed it. He didn’t like the fact he could taste the molecules in the food. The fact that Aziraphale was enjoying his meal a little too much bothered Dean. He turned his attention to the demon. 

Crowley had leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table. His head was cupped in his hand as he practically laid on the table watching the angel eat. The desire on the demon’s face was almost sinful. 

Unsure what to do, Dean looked up at his brother. Sam was just as uncomfortable as he was. They both turned their attention to the food in front of them. It was good, but it wasn’t THAT good.

Chapter Text

It was some time later that Dean walked back through the library again. Lunch had been more awkward than anyone wanted to remember. Thankfully somewhere in the middle Aziraphale seemed to realized they were not alone and dialed back his outward display of enjoyment. Crowley seemed put out by the restraint. The brothers agreed it would probably be a good idea to avoid the angel indulging in culinary delights again. Less mortifying for everyone involved.

Dean glanced over to find the angel hard at work once more. The same white cup Crowley had appeared with sat close to the ink pot. It looked untouched. Leaving the angel to do his thing, he turned to go. Something shiny on the floor in the war room caught his eye. He walked down the three steps and looked down. Someone had dropped a quarter on the floor. Bending over, he tried to pick it up, but found it was stuck. A snicker drew his attention.

Crowley was sitting off to the side on a couch that shouldn't have been there. He watched with glee as Dean try to unstick the coin from where it was glued to the floor.

Dean stood up. “Did you do this?” he asked, poking the stuck coin with his toe. 

“Just a bit of fun,” Crowley said, taking a drink of some amber liquid. 

“Do not be cruel,” the angel called from the other room.

“Never,” Crowley called back. He turned his attention to Dean. “Want’a wait for your brother to find it?” He held up a mostly full bottle of top quality whisky, tempting Dean.

Dean looked down at the coin then to the bottle the demon was offering. He didn’t have anything important to do and getting drunk was always good fun. “Sure,” he said and came to join the demon on the couch. 

Crowley smiled and poured Dean a generous helping of the alcohol. 

Dean accepted and took a sip. It slid down like a good whiskey should. “Is this what you do with your time?” He looked at the coin glued to the floor. 

Crowley shrugged. “Works much better at a coffee shop. More targets,” he admitted. “But I don’t trust you with my angel.”

Dean thought about that for a moment. The angel and demon were a bit weird, but they hadn’t done anything to put him on edge. He looked down into his drink as he spoke. “We won’t do anything to hurt him.”

“Good,” Crowley replied. “Hate to have to go demonic on you.” He nudged Dean.

Dean looked up at Crowley.

The demon pointed across the room. A look of delight on his face. 

Dean looked over to find Sam standing over the coin staring down at it. He grinned. This was fun.

Chapter Text

Sam sat at his computer and tried to concentrate on his research. His eyes kept drifting to the angel at the far end of the table. Aziraphale had been diligently working on translating the scrolls for the last two days. At first he'd sat quietly as he worked, but, as time went by, he’d slowly started to fidget in his chair. It wasn’t enough to distract him, but it was starting to annoy Sam. Clenching his teeth, Sam tried to focus on his computer. His attention was pulled away again when Crowley walked up behind Aziraphale. 

“Oi, Angel,” the demon said, patting the angel on the shoulders. “Give um up?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lifted from his work and he glanced over his shoulder at the demon. “Now?” he asked, turning his gaze towards Sam. “I really do not think this is the time or place for that?”

“Really don’t care,” the demon demanded. “Either give um up or I drag you off for an hour or three.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

Aziraphale pouted but gave in. “Fine,” he huffed. “But do be gentle.”

Shock ran through Sam as the back of Aziraphale’s chair got out of the way and two puffy white wings unfolded into existence. He let out a startled cry, slammed his eyes close, and fell over backwards.

 “Sam,” Dean cried as he came skidding into the room. He stopped and stared. He could see that his brother was down, but he couldn’t pull his eyes from the pair at the far end of the room.

“Don’t look,” Sam cried. He had his arm up over his face shielding his eyes.

Dean looked from the pair, to his brother, and back. He knew the true form of an angel could hurt to behold, but there it was. An angel with real physical wings and not the dark shadows he’d seen other angels cast. And his eyes were still in tact. “Why am I not blind?”

Crowley snickered. “You thought his Grace was going to burn out your eyes,” the demon scoffed. He sunk his fingers into the soft feathers along the top edge of Aziraphale’s wing. 

Aziraphale shuddered before turning his attention to the brothers. He tutted at them. “I do know how to control myself in this form.”

“Obviously your angel isn’t as talented as mine,” Crowley sneered as he plucked feathers out of the angel’s wing.

“I don’t have an angel,” Dean protested.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked at Dean crossly. “It’s not nice to deny your Guardian Angel,” he reprimanded the hunter. “At least, you’ll insult them. More likely, you’ll hurt them.”

“Oh boy!” Crowley snickered. “You got him using contractions. You’re in for it now.”

“Cas isn’t my guardian angel,” Dean yelled.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s my friend,” Dean finished weakly. 

That brought a smile to the angel’s face. “Well, in that case. I am sure he will forgive you.”

Sam chose that moment to crawl his way up from the floor. “How did you know we have an angel?”

Crowley shrugged one shoulder and ripped more feathers out. There was a pile forming around them. “This place is covered in shreds of his Grace. It’s uncomfortable.” More feathers flew out of the demons hands.

“Easy, my dear,” Aziraphale warned.

“Sorry, Angel,” Crowley said. His finger smoothed over the feathers he’d been plucking through. He continued at a more sedate speed. “How did you let your wings get in such a state?”

Aziraphale sighed. “It has been a while since you last preened me and flying in from the South Downs did not do them much good.”

“Sorry, Angel,” Crowley muttered and continued to pluck out and straighten feathers.

Sam sat back in his chair and watched.

Dean took his normal seat. He turned his focus to Sam. “How come Cas doesn’t have physical wings?”

“How did he get his corporeal form?” Aziraphale asked.

The brothers turned their attention to the angel.

“What?” Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “His body,” he explained with the same exasperation he always had when explaining simple things to his brother. He turned the next answer to Aziraphale. “He uses a human vessel.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “There is the difference. When Crowley and I were sent to Earth, there were no human vessels available.”

“Someone would’ve noticed if we popped off with Adam or Eve,” Crowley joked as he moved to Aziraphale’s other wing.

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, giving the demon better access to the new wing. “Our corporations were made for us by Heaven and Hell respectively,” he explained. “I have had this one for…” he paused to think. “When was the last time you discorporated me, my dear?”

“The Apocalypse,” Crowley said softly. His fingers stroked the feathers he had been preening. The demon’s voice was laced with so much pain even the brothers could feel it.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m sorry, my dear. I forgot about that one.”

“How can you bloody forget about dying!” Crowley hissed. His fingers tore into the feathers again.

Aziraphale shifted as if Crowley’s work hurt, but he didn’t stop him. “Sargent Shadwell did not mean to hurt me and Adam set it to right,” he said soothingly. “Besides, I am not sure these even count as the same corporations anymore.”

Crowley’s fingers slowed. He petted the feathers he ruffled. “Probably not,” he muttered and continued his preening more gently. 

Aziraphale turned his attention back to the brothers. “Our corporations were designed to hold our essences so nothing accidentally leaks out. Human vessels are not.”

“Did you get to pick your forms?” Sam asked.

“To some degree,” Aziraphale answered. “My form expresses who I am inside, although I can alter it if I choose.”

“I got to pick most of my features,” Crowley said proudly.

“So you chose to be a flashy bastard?” Dean said in surprise.

Crowley grinned widely at him. “Yup,” he said, popping the P. “Won an award for Best Looking Demon in Hell.”

Aziraphale turned his head so he could see Crowley over his shoulder. “You told me that was not a complement.”

“It’s not,” Crowley agreed. “But I’ll take what I can get.” He ran his hands over the wing one last time. “Done.” He stepped back to look at his work.

Aziraphale stretched his wings. “That feels much better. Thank you, my dear.” He started to fold them up, but Crowley grabbed the top edge of them, stopping him.

“You know the deal,” Crowley growled. 

“You want to do that now?” Aziraphale huffed

“Yes,” Crowley snapped. “You owe me at least two hours.” He paused to think. “Three for forgetting you died during the apocalypse.”

Aziraphale huffed as he wiggled forward in what was left of the chair. “Fine.” He cracked his neck and opened his wings wide. “Get thee behind me, foul fiend.”

A grin cracked across Crowley’s face as he dropped onto the chair behind the angel and snuggled up as close as possible. He placed his cheek on Aziraphale’s back, right between the angel’s wings. The demon’s arms wrapped up under the angel’s wings and arms. One hand rested over the angel’s heart while the other gripped his own wrist, locking the angel in place.

Aziraphale folded his wings back and down, completely enclosing the demon in his feathers.

The movement disturbed the plucked feathers and they scattered out around the library. A soft bit of down settled on Sam’s keyboard. 

“I am so sorry,” Aziraphale said, mortified. “Let me clear these away.” He raised his hand to snap.

“Don’t you dare,” the demon’s voice hissed from inside his wings.

Aziraphale stopped. The look on his face showed he was torn between wanting to clean up and needing to follow the demon’s command.

Dean picked up one of the feathers. It tingled in his fingers. He rolled it around, looking at the white plumage. There were swirls of gold and silver in the barbs. He raised an eyebrow in question and looked past the feather to the angel.

Aziraphale sighed. “It takes a few hours for the feathers to release my Grace,” he explained. “And it is much easier to reabsorb with my wings out.” There was almost a sheepish tone to his voice. “We will clean them up in a bit, if that is all right with you?”

Dean smiled as he set the feather back on the table. Over the short time they had been there, Dean had started to get a good read on the angel and demon. Aziraphale was extremely intelligent, but absent-minded and didn’t take proper care of himself. He probably went days without noticing things. Crowley wasn’t as intelligent, but he was sharp minded and street wise. Even though he was a demon, he cared greatly for the angel. They were an odd pair, but somehow they fit perfectly together. “Hey Sammy,” Dean said, standing up. “What to go grab a beer?”

Sam glanced down at the angel and demon twisted around him. Aziraphale had already returned to his translation.  He closed his laptop. “Yeah,” he said standing up. “I think that’s a great idea.” The brothers left the two supernatural beings wrapped together. It was obvious they need some alone time.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Dean looked at his brother. “Do you think they’re a couple?”

Sam gave him a bewildered look. “As in romantic partners?”

“As in…” Dean made a suggestive hand motion.

“Do angels even do that?”

“Demons do,” Dean replied.

Sam pondered that for a moment. “How could an angel and a demon have a physical relationship? Just being together goes against their nature. They’re opposites.”

“How can they have any kind of relationship?” Dean pondered. “Shouldn’t there be some kind of reaction. Possibly explosive?”

They exchanged a few more bewildered looks. “We could ask Cas,” Sam offered.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to ask Cas.”

They let the subject drop and went to get dinner and drinks.

Chapter Text

Sam rubbed his hands over his face. He’d spent more than three hours surfing the net looking for some kind of job that needed their attention. So far nothing interesting had popped up. He looked up to find Aziraphale was still hard at work transcribing the scrolls. It had been four days since the angel had sat down to work. As far as Sam could tell, the celestial being didn’t need sleep. He hardly even moved. The only time he stopped working was when the demon interrupted him. Usually, Aziraphale would comply with whatever demands the demon made before digging right back in. 

Often times 'Oi, Angel' was the only warning Aziraphale got before the demon insisted on something. When the phrase sounded this time, Sam looked up just in time to see Crowley walk up behind the angel

“Yes, my dear?” Aziraphale asked not looking away from his place. His quill lifted from the page.

Crowley slipped his hand into the angel’s hair, gripping it firmly. He pulled back, making the angel arch his back sharply. His lips descended on the angel’s open mouth for a passionate kiss.  They hung there for a long minute before the demon released him. 

“Stretch so you don’t cramp up,” the demon ordered as he shoved the angel back into an upright position. 

Surprise shone brightly on Aziraphale’s face. “Right,” he said, setting his quill down. He stood up and stretched his arms out and wiggled his fingers. He turned towards Sam and cocked his head. “Would you like some tea?” 

Shocked by the absurdity of the scene, Sam didn’t know what to say. “Sure,” he finally answered.

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “I will be right back.” He turned and headed towards the kitchen.

Sam’s eyebrows climbed up his face and he turned to look at the demon leaning against a column.

Crowley shrugged. “Got him to move.” The demon pushed away from the wall and sauntered pass Sam and out into the war room.

Dean walked in the room staring back at the exiting demon. “What’s up with him?”

“They are most definitely a couple,” Sam stated. 

Dean gave him a curious look, but didn’t have time to ask. 

“Oh hello,” Aziraphale said as he came back into the room with a silver tray filled with a complete tea service. “Would you like some tea?” he asked, setting the tray down. There was even a plate filled with cookies.

Dean looked at the tray. None of that had been in their kitchen. “Sure,” he answered. 

Aziraphale set about pouring their tea and sat down to chat with them for a moment. “So what do you nice boys do for a living?”

Sam and Dean exchanged bewildered looks. 

“We’re hunters,” Sam explained.

“That is nice,” Aziraphale said, taking a sip of his tea. “What do you hunt?”

Dean shoved a cookie into his mouth and left his brother to explain. Somehow he didn’t think the angel would like the fact they hunted demons.

Chapter Text

Dean sat on his normal chair and played on Sam’s computer. The brothers started making a habit of watching the angel as he worked on the scroll. It wasn’t a spoken agreement, but there was something interesting in how the angel and demon interacted. Right now Crowley was sitting on the back half of Aziraphale’s altered chair. He leaned against the angel’s back and played on his phone. Dean’s attention was drawn when Aziraphale lifted his head from his work.

“Crowley, my dear,” the angel said. 

“Hmmm?’ the demon answered from where he slouched.

“It’s Thursday,” the angel said gently. 

The demon froze. He made a noise in his throat and disappeared. 

Dean startled from his position. He didn’t like it when the demon disappeared like that.

“Be at ease,” the angel said reassuringly. “He is not going to hurt you.” The angel turned his attention back to his work. 

“Where did he go?” Dean asked. 

“Home,” Aziraphale explained. “To yell at his plants.”

“Plants?” Dean asked.

“He has one fern that has been very naughty lately,” the angel explained. “I only let him get really mean on Thursdays.” He paused for a brief moment as if he was gathering his strength for a confessions. “I fear Crowley will have to make another example out of it.”

“Do I even want to know?”

Aziraphale looked up from his work and gave Dean a forlorn look. “Best not.”

Dean grimaced and went back to the movie playing on Sam’s computer. He decided he didn’t want to know.

****

Walking up the steps, Sam stopped before he crossed into the library. Crowley was bent over the first table, propped up on his hands. The demon’s glasses were on the table next to him while he glared at the most luxurious fern Sam had ever seen. The plant seemed to be shaking in its pot. 

Sam gave the pair a wide berth and went to stand next to Dean, watching from the other side of Aziraphale. “What’s he doing?” he whispered to his brother.

“Intimidating his plant,” Dean whispered back. 

“Why?” Sam asked. 

Dean gave him a bewildered look. “Punishment?”

“What did the plant do?” Sam asked, looking back at the demon and the terrified plant.

“It knows what it did!” Crowley yelled before standing up. “And if it does it again, I’ll feed it to the garbage disposal!”

“Leaf spots,” Aziraphale muttered from where he was still working. 

“Bloody leaf spots!” Crowley screamed. He grabbed up the plant and stormed out of the room, shaking it violently.

The surprised look the brothers exchanged was starting to become a habit. 

Aziraphale let out a long sigh. “I do hope he refrains from throwing it off the roof again. I like that one.”

Chapter Text

Looking up from his computer, Sam watched as Crowley wandered in from the other room. He set the winged cup down next to Aziraphale’s ink pot and patted the angel on the shoulder. 

Aziraphale muttered a polite response before continuing his work.

Crowley shook his head and wandered over to one of the bookshelves. He pulled a book out, flipped through the pages, then slipped it back onto the shelf in a different spot. 

Sam looked up at the devil’s trap scrawled on the ceiling over the bookshelf. It should have held the demon, but Crowley sauntered away like it was nothing. Unable to hold his curiosity anymore, Sam leaned back and called out to the demon. “How do you do that?”

Crowley stopped and looked at Sam. “Do what?”

“Walk out of a devil’s trap. You are a demon right?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Crowley answered.

“Why doesn’t the trap hold you?” Sam pressed.

Crowley made a disgusted noise and looked up to the trap on the ceiling. “ ‘Cause I’m not that kind of demon.”

Sam shook his head, not understanding. 

Letting out a put-upon sigh, Crowley came over and ran his finger in a circle over the table. A perfectly drawn devil’s trap appeared in miniature. “Can you read that?” He waved at the circle.

Sam looked at it. “Not really,” he admitted. “I know it’s a simplification of the Grand Seal in the Lesser Keys of Solomon. From what I understand, these,” he touched two of the symbols, “bind a demon to the circle. And these,” he touched two more, “limit the creature’s power.”

“And this one?” Crowley touched the largest of the five symbols.

Sam shrugged.

“This tells you what creature you’re binding,” Crowley explained. 

Sam cocked his head. “So this says demon?”

Crowley shook his head. “This is old Enoch,” the demon explained. “There isn’t a word for demon in that language.”

Sam gave the demon a confused look. “Than what does it say?”

“Hell twisted soul,” Crowley explained. “This circle is designed to hold a human soul that’s been turned into a demon. It has some power over me simply because I’m from Hell, but only enough to be annoying.”

Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, thinking. “What about the full Grand Seal. We’ve used that to hold more powerful demons.”

“Ah,” Crowley said. “The full Seal has two lines that this one doesn't. “He traced his finger over the table, drawing out the two additional lines. “This one binds Hell Born Souls.” He tapped the first. “And this one binds Hell Made Souls. Between the three, you can hold just about anything that comes out of Hell”

Sitting up again, Sam looked over the symbols. They were very close in pattern with only a slight variation in the middle. “Why do they look the same?”

“Old Enoch is kind of like German,” Crowley explained. “If they didn’t have a word to describe something, they took a bunch of words and jammed them together 'til they got what they wanted.”

Sam cocked his head as he considered that. 

“How do ya think the German’s came up with Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz?”

A bewildered look crossed the hunter’s face. “What the hell is that?”

Crowley snickered. “It’s ‘a law for regulating the labeling of beef’ in one word,” the demon explained. His smile widened. “Received a commendation for that.”

“Really,” Aziraphale said, looking up from his work. “I knew there was something demonic about the German language.”

“What can I say, was board.”

Aziraphale huffed and turned back to his work. “You really need to apologize to those people.”

“Nah,” Crowley said waving the angel’s suggestion away. “They came up with enough bad stuff on their own. They deserve their language.”

Aziraphale let out a disapproving tut, but didn't say any more.

Sam turned his attention back to the seal and marks on the table. “So if you swap these symbols, you can bind different kinds of demons.”

“If you swap it out, you can bind all kinds of things. As long as you know the Enoch word for it,” Crowley explained.

Sam considered that.  “So, which of these would hold you?”

“Ngk,” Crowley said standing away from the table. “Not telling you that.” He waved at the table and the marks disappeared. “You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.” He sauntered away, leaving Sam to think about what he’d learned.

***

“Do you think this will work?” Dean whispered to his brother. 

Sam looked at the demon coming in from the kitchen. “Maybe.” His eyes dropped to the freshly drawn circle behind Aziraphale.

Sam had worked for several hours trying to come up with a Enochian word for Fallen Angel. Once he thought he had it right, he conscripted Dean to help him draw a new circle behind the angel. Aziraphale had glanced at them in amusement, but didn’t say anything. Now it was time to find out if their work paid off. 

Crowley walked into the circle with ease, but stopped. He looked down at the writing before letting out a manic cackle and stepping free of the circle. “Nice try, boys,” he called as he set down a fresh cup of cocoa for the angel. “But you may want to check your accents, I’m not a Fallen ANGLE”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Angel,” Crowley called.

The smell of something warm and delicious caught Dean’s attention. He looked up from the movie playing on Sam’s computer to see what the demon was up to this time. 

Crowley leaned across the table towards Aziraphale and held something out for the angel to see. “Got you somefin.”

“Oh my!” the angel exclaimed in excitement. “Is that?”

“Fresh baked apple pie,” Crowley said, standing up. “Even got ice cream.” He cocked an eyebrow at the angel. “Can I tempt you?”

Aziraphale grinned. “Oh, yes please.” He set his quill down and they moved to the table Dean was occupying.  

Dean looked longingly at the pie. “Where'd you get that?”

“Bakery downtown,” Crowley admitted as he sliced the still hot pie and placed a piece on a plate. “Had to go to Cincinnati for the ice cream.” He ripped open the top of a purple container and scooped out a huge glob of vanilla ice cream. He dropped it on the plate beside the pie “Only place in the country that does a proper french pot ice cream.” He set the plate down in front of the angel. 

Aziraphale wiggled in his seat in anticipation. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow and shot Dean a look. “You wouldn’t, by chance, want some?”

Dean sucked in a breath and stared at the pie, longingly. He did want a piece of the delicious smelling pie but did he want to take it from the demon? Dean looked up to the supernatural being holding the knife. He couldn't see past the demon’s glasses, but he knew there was amusement in the demon’s eyes. Did he really want to take a piece of apple pie from the creature responsible for Original Sin? He looked back down at the pie and gave in to the temptation. Hell yes he wanted it. It was pie! “Please,” he asked nicely.

Crowley grinned and served him up a large slice with a side of ice cream.

As soon as he put the first fork full in his mouth, Dean didn’t care he’d just been tempted by the Serpent of Eden. That was the best damned thing he’d put in his mouth all week.

Chapter Text

Dean hefted the box of junk Sam had pulled out of one storage room. He dropped it on the table in the war room and started pulling things out to catalog. The smell of hot apple pie drew his attention and he turned to find a plate sitting in the middle of the table. A huge scoop of ice cream sat nestled next to it. It had just the perfect amount of melted cream pooled around the bottom. It looked like the same pie Crowley had presented to Aziraphale earlier. 

Looking around for the demon, Dean moved closer to the pie. No one seemed to be around. He looked back at the plate. It would be a waste to leave it sit there. Reaching across the table, he grabbed the plate to bring it closer. It slid an inch, but stopped as if it hit a wall. Unsure what had happened, Dean lifted the plate up. He could pick it straight up, but it would not come any closer to the edge of the table. 

“What the hell?” He picked the plate up higher and looked underneath it. There was a devil’s trap drawn on the table. Dean rubbed out one of the lines and lifted the plate away from the marking. 

“A devil’s trap can be used to trap anything,” Crowley said from behind the hunter. 

Dean dropped the plate as he jumped. He spun around to face the demon. 

Crowley smiled at him. “Just got to know the right words to use.” The demon turned and sauntered away. 

Dean grabbed at his chest, trying to get his heart to slow down. He turned back to the pie. Miraculously, the treat was still in one piece. He stared at the trap with new appreciation. If a devil’s trap could be used to trap pie, what else could they use it for?

Chapter Text

Dean leaned back in his normal chair flipping through a newspaper. A cold beer hung in his fingers as he relaxed. A loud gurgling sound came from across the table. He dropped the paper down and stared at his brother. “Borborygums much?” he grumbled.

Sam looked up from his computer and stared at his brother as if he had gone mad. “What?”

“Borborygums is the sound of a stomach rumbling,” Aziraphale answered from across the room.

The brothers stared at each other in horror. 

“How the heck do you know that?” Sam asked Dean.

Dean’s eyes got really wide as he tried to remember where he'd learned that useless fact. He couldn’t. “Don’t know.”

***

Crowley snickered from where he lounged on the back of Aziraphale’s chair, but refused to offer up his secret. The boys should know what taking apples from the Serpent of Eden would do.

Chapter Text

“Could you help us with this?” Sam asked, holding a devil’s trap out for Aziraphale to see.

Aziraphale looked up from his work and considered the paper. He pulled off his glasses and studied Sam’s face. “You want me to tell you how to trap Crowley?”

“There are twelve toilets in this place and none of them are working,” Sam explained. “Dean’s been trying to clear them all morning. What are the chances that all twelve of them would act up at the same time?”

The angel’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” He took the paper from Sam’s hand and drew a symbol. “Try that.” 

Sam took the paper back and looked over the complicated sign. “Thank you.” 

Aziraphale nodded and turned his attention back to his transcription. 

****

Crowley smiled when he saw the devil’s trap drawn on the floor. The Winchesters had taken to trying out different symbols to trap him. This trap was hastily covered over with a rug. He sauntered over it, expecting to push right past, but the trap grabbed him. He gasped and looked down. It took him a minute to kick the rug off the trap enough to read what the Winchesters had come up with. Betrayal gripped his heart. He looked up to where he could see Aziraphale in the other room.  “Angel,” he cried. “You helped them?”

“Toilets, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. He sat up and gave Crowley a pointed look. “We are guests here.”

Crowley glared at the angel, crossed his arms, and huffed in disgust. “Fine,” he said.

Aziraphale snapped and the binding rune disappeared from the devil’s trap. 

Snapping his fingers, Crowley fixed the plumbing. He stalked over to the angel. “Traitor,” he grouched and plopped down on the back half of Aziraphale’s chair. 

The angel snickered. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

The familiar sound of a quill scratching against paper stopped. Sam pulled his attention away from his computer to find Aziraphale staring down at the book he’d been writing in. 

The angel dropped his quill next to the pot of ink and blew on the page. “Done,” he said, closing the thick volume.

“You’re done?” Sam asked, sitting taller in his chair.

“With this one,” Aziraphale said, rerolling the scroll. Once the paper was safely contained, the angel pulled his glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes. Dark ink from his fingers smeared across  his cheek bone. He yawned and threw his arms wide in a full body stretch. “Dear Lord, I think I may need a nap.” 

Sam scraped his chair across the floor, trying to get up. “Can I see it?”

Aziraphale smiled and looked on the verge of agreeing, but stopped. A concerned look furrowed his brow. “Let me ask Crowley first. This is, afterall, his deal.” 

As if summoned by his name, Crowley sauntered in from the back. 

Aziraphale gave him a tired smile. “The first one is done.” He picked up the book and handed it up to the demon. 

Crowley took it and flipped it open. An amused smile curled his lips. He flipped through several pages before closing it again. “Did good, Angel.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the angel’s forehead. His eyes found the ink mark on the angel’s cheek. He glared at it. “Bugger off,” he told the ink. The ink lifted from the angels face and hands and fled back to the bottle.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Thank you, dearest,” he said before turning his attention back to Sam. “Sam would like to inspect my work.”

Sam eyed the book in the demon’s hands as he came closer.

Crowley clutched it tightly. “The deal was six books for six scrolls. We only have one done. What’s to stop you from reneging on the deal once you’ve discovered what’s in this scroll?”

“I wouldn’t,” Sam protested.

Crowley looked at him over his glasses. “But your brother might. This is his deal too.”

Sam pressed his lips together. He could see Dean trying to back out of a deal that wasn’t going his way. Sam ignored that thought and pressed on “We need those scrolls. They might have something that could help Cas.”

Aziraphale stood up and face Crowley. “Come now, my dear,” he said soothingly. “The poor boy seems anxious to get his hands on the translation, and who am I to keep someone from a book.”

Crowley’s mouth dropped open and he turned to stare at his angel. “You’ve never sold a book in your life.”

The angel tutted at him. “I have,” he said in a defensive tone. “And what you have is not even close to a first edition.”

The demon clamped his mouth shut and glared at his counterpart. “Getting them early wasn’t part of the deal.”

Raising a hand, Aziraphale petted Crowley’s sleeve. “Please, dear.”

Crowley trembled as he glared at the angel. “Fine,” he snapped and turned his focus back to Sam. “Deal still stands six books for six scrolls, but we’ll exchange them one at a time as they’re done.”

“Agreed,” Sam said, holding out his hand for the book. 

The demon clutched the book harder and shook his head. “Get your brother and make him agree first.”

***

“Dean!”

Dean startled awake from his nap. “What?” he rasped.

“Aziraphale is finished with the first scroll,” Sam explained from the doorway. “Crowley doesn’t want to give it up until all six scrolls are done.”

Thoughts moved groggily through Dean’s tired brain as he sat up. “But what if it could help Cas? We can’t wait for him to translate all of them.”

“I know,” Sam answered. "Aziraphale made Crowley agree to let us have each book as it’s done. One book for one scroll.” He patted the doorframe, motioning his brother to hurry. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

Dean tore himself out of bed and ruffled his hair. “Coming.”

***

Dean held the golden scroll as he and Sam stood shoulder to shoulder. Crowley clutched the book as he stood next to Aziraphale.

“How do we know the transcription is complete and correct?” Dean asked. His voice thick with accusation.

Aziraphale bristled. “I’m an excellent scribe,” the angel said, offended. “And while this is no Book of Kells, I can guarantee it is nice, complete, and accurate.”

“Oi,” Crowley added. “Don’t insult my angel.” He glared at Dean. “You’re the one that asked him to do it in the first place.” 

“You asked me to do it,” Aziraphale corrected.

“But they asked me to get you here to do it,” Crowley snapped back.

“What about the other parts of the deal?” Sam asked, interrupting the building argument between the angel and demon.

“Angel,” Crowley barked. “Can the scroll itself be used to cause damage to ethereal beings?”

Concern furrowed Aziraphale’s brow. “Well, you could use it to bash in someone’s head, but that would not leave any lasting damage to an ethereal being.”

“So no,” Crowley surmised.

“No,’ Aziraphale confirmed.

“Does the scroll contain anything dangerous?” Crowley asked the second question.

Aziraphale smiled. “No,” he confirmed. “It’s actually quite lovely.”

“What’s in it?” Sam asked.

“Aaa aaa aaa,” Crowley exclaimed, stopping the angel from answering. “That was not part of the deal.” He thrusted the book out for the brothers to take. “Book for the scroll.”

Dean relinquished the scroll into Aziraphale’s eager hand while Sam took the book. The two parties stepped apart. 

It only took Sam a moment to flip open the book and look at the copperplate handwriting of the angel. His eyes shifted over the Enoch before dropping to the line of English. “Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?” The tone of Sam’s voice grew more confused as he read.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked.

“It is poetry, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, clutching the scroll. “In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?” he quoted. “It is William Blake’s The Tyger.”

Sam quickly flipped through the book finding more bouts of poetry. “Is it all poetry?”

“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “The Enochian doesn’t have the right measure, but the English is mostly done in trochaic tetrameter or iambic pentameter. There are a few free form poems in there. I know you asked for a literal translation, but I took it upon myself to give you the true translation as the authors intended their works to be read. I did, however, make note where the Enoch translations differed from the author’s original work. I think you will find it quite complete.”

“And the subject?” Sam asked flipping through the book.

Crowley made a noise, but Aziraphale raised his hand to stop the demon’s protest. “Animals,” the angel answered. “I do believe this is part of a greater work that catalogs the creatures the Almighty created for the Garden. There is a lovely poem in there about ducks about halfway back.”

“I like ducks.” Crowley added with a warm smile.

“Is this translation to your satisfaction?” Aziraphale asked.

Sam flipped through the book more. “Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Are all the scrolls poetry about ducks?” Dean asked wanting to know if they were wasting their time.

“I do not know,” Aziraphale answered. “This is the only scroll I have looked at so far.”

“No reneging on our deal,” Crowley cried, snatching the scroll from Aziraphale’s hand. He clutched it tightly as if Dean would take it back. “Six scrolls for six books."

“Gently, my dear,” Aziraphale said, petting the demon’s arm.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away. “Whatever.” He left Sam deep in his study of the new book. All he wanted to do was go back to bed.

Crowley relaxed his hold on the scroll as Dean left. He wrapped his arm around the tired angel’s shoulder. “Come on, Angel,” he said, pulling Aziraphale into motion. “Let’s go find you someplace to kip.”

“That would be lovely, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, letting the demon pull him away.

Sam shook his head and took the book back to his chair to read through it. “Definitely a couple,” he muttered.

Chapter Text

Dean sat in his chair and stared. Aziraphale was already back to work on the next scroll, but it wasn’t the angel that held the hunter’s attention. It was the dark bruise just peeking out of the angel’s collar. He’d been staring since he’d first noticed it. He tried to reason out what the purple mark was, but, given the location and shape, there was only one thing it could be. He just couldn’t believe it. “Is that a… hickey?” he found himself asking.

Aziraphale gasped and sat up straight. His hand covered the bruising at his neck. He gave Dean a sheepish look as a blush rushed across his cheeks. “Do forgive me,” he said. “Crowley can get somewhat aggressive when he forgets himself.”

“He bit you?” Dean exclaimed.

“Oh no,” Aziraphale said, defending the demon, then paused. The red in his cheeks deepened.  “Well,” he backpedaled. “Yes. He did. But I assure you, he did not mean to harm me. He just gets over amorous at times.” He paused to consider Dean. “If it bothers you, I can miracle it away. Crowley is still sleeping off last night’s activities and will not be up for a few more hours to complain.”

“No,” Dean blurted out as his mind went to places he really wished it didn’t. “What you and your ah…” He paused not wanting to use the phrase pet demon , but not sure what else to put there. 

“Husband,” Aziraphale supplied. “We are married.”

Dean stared at the angel in shock. “Husband? You’re married?”

“Well, Yes,” Aziraphale said happily. He sat up straighter. “We didn’t make a big fuss about it, but when you have known someone for six thousand years, you tend to get attached. And when the Almighty makes a suggestion, it is best not to question.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but thought better. Chuck really did have a weird sense of humor and Dean could totally see him shipping an angel and a demon. “Right,” he said instead.

Aziraphale let out a soft laugh. “I know it sounds odd, an angel and a demon being in love, but I can assure you, we fit together most beautifully. And he is an absolutely amazing lover.” The suggestive tone in the angel’s voice made Dean blush in embarrassment. 

“Right,” Dean said as he stood up. “I think I left something in the other room.” He turned and hurried away. He couldn’t sit there and think about this anymore. There was a whole bottle of cheap whiskey in his room that might start to erase this conversation from his brain. He cracked a grin when he saw Sam come out of his room. 

“Remind me to burn the sheets in the guest room after they leave,” Dean said as soon as he got close to his brother.

Sam gave him a shocked look. “Which ones?” 

“All of them,” Dean replied. “I ain’t taking any chances here.”

Sam cocked his head in questioned. 

“They’re married,” Dean explained. “And apparently, demons are good in bed.”

Sam shuddered. “Oh God,”

“Yeah, I blame Chuck.” Dean turned and left Sam standing in the hall with a mildly disturbed look on his face. He smiled. He felt better having shared that bit of info with his brother. Now he wasn’t alone with the disturbing thoughts of the angel and demon banging.

Chapter Text

Anger boiled up in Dean when he saw the dark figure leaning over the hood of his Impala. “Get the hell away from my baby,” he growled, picking up his pace.

Crowley stood up, but didn’t remove his fingers from where they rested against the car. “Is this yours?”

Dean grabbed the demon and shoved him away from the car. “Yes.” He looked over his car, but couldn’t see any damages.

“It’s nice,” Crowley said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not nearly as nice as my Bentley, but nothing really is.”

The look Dean shot the demon could melt bone. He circled the car checking for damages. Something caught his eye and he brushed his hand over the back fender where a werewolf had left a decent dent. “It’s gone.” The panel was as smooth as the day it was made.

Crowley shrugged. “Pulled out a few dents, fixed the twist in the frame, and knocked out some rust.”

Dean stared at the demon in surprise. “You fixed the frame?” He’d been trying to get the warp out for a while now. 

Crowley gave him a half grin and nodded.

“Why?” Dean asked in complete confusion. Demons didn’t do nice things like this. And definitely not for free.

The demon gave him another shrug. “Something this nice shouldn’t be left in such horrible condition.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open as the demon sauntered away.

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley called over his shoulder. “You’ll regret it.”

The hunter turned back to his car and petted the black body. He still couldn’t believe the demon would do something so wonderful for him. “Thanks,” he whispered in gratitude.

***

“What did you do to my music?” Dean yelled, throwing the box of tapes down on the table next to Aziraphale. 

Crowley looked up from where he was perched on the back of the angel’s chair. “I didn’t do nothin to your music.”

Dean grabbed a tape out of the box and shook it at the demon. “Than why the hell do all my tapes play the Best of Queen?”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said in warning. 

Crowley turned to look at the angel. “I didn’t do it,” he said defensively. “All I did was take a few dents out of his bloody car.” He paused and looked up at Dean, realization passed over his face. “You thanked me.”

“No I didn’t,” Dean lied.

Crowley laughed. “Yes you did, or your tapes wouldn’t have turned in to Queen.” He giggled maniacally. “Told you, you’d regret it.”

Aziraphale sighed and snapped his fingers. “There,” he said. “All fixed.”

Dean looked down at the box of tapes. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t leave them in the car for more than a fortnight,” Crowley said as he turned his attention back to his phone. “Everything turns into The Best of Queen in a fortnight.”

Dean grimaced as he picked up the box of restored tapes. Exactly how long was a fortnight anyway?

Chapter Text

The cartouche was so small, Sam had to pull out his microscope to read all of the marking on it. And there were a lot. He carefully drew the last of the hieroglyphs in his notebook before using tweezers to place the golden cartouche back into its box. The Men of Letters who’d put the thing away had wrapped it in all kinds of protective seals with warning never to touch the actual artifact, but they didn’t explain why. Maybe it was something Dean and Sam could use in their line of work. 

Standing up from the table, Sam went to the shelf where he knew there was a text on Egyption hieroglyphs. He reached up to the shelf to get it, but stopped. The book was gone. He scanned the shelf, but it wasn’t there. Sam looked at the shelves above and below, hoping it was just his memory and that the book hadn’t actually disappeared. The book wasn’t on any of the shelves. Maybe his brother had moved it. “Dean!” he called. He searched the shelves again while he waited.

Dean came up the steps and stopped. “Yeah?”

“Did you move Champollion’s notebook?” Sam asked

“Who’s?” Dean asked, moving closer.

“Jean-Francois Champollion,” Sam said putting his finger on the place where the notebook should have been. “The one about hieroglyphs. The one that was right here.’

“Dude,” Dean said offended. “I didn’t touch your moldy old books.”

Sam opened his mouth to tell his brother off, but didn’t get the chance.

“These books are not moldy,” Aziraphale said. There was a sharp edge to his voice. 

Both brothers turned to look at the angel who had stopped working. 

“With a few notable exceptions, these books are very well taken care of,” the angel explained. He scooted his chair back, got up, and came over to stand at the shelf the brothers were arguing over. 

Sam stepped back to give the angel room.

“What book were you looking for?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Champollion’s notebook on Egyption hieroglyphics,”Sam said. 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the title. “Really?” he turned to look at the shelf. “You have an original copy?”

“Ahhh,” Sam said, not sure how to answer that. He knew the book was old, but he didn’t know if it was an original. 

Ignoring Sam’s lack of answer, Aziraphale touched the shelf where Sam’s finger had been. “Crowely,” he called. 

The demon appeared behind him. “Hmmm?”

“Where is the book that was right here?” Aziraphale asked, turning to look at the demon. “I would very much like to see it.”

Crowley nodded and walked across the room. He pulled a book out of the shelves and brought it over to Aziraphale. 

The angel took the copy of Champollion’s notebook and opened it to the title page. His face fell a little. “It’s a third printing,” he said with a sigh. “I already have this one.” He turned and held it out to Sam. “Your book, dear boy.”

Shocked, Sam took the book and looked over at the demon. “You moved the books?” he could vaguely recall Crowley putting one book back in the wrong place, how many more had he shuffled around. 

Crowley shrugged. “I’m a demon. It’s what I do.”

“Fix them,” Aziraphale ordered as he went back to his seat.

“W’ot?” Crowley said in shock. 

“You know how I feel about books,” Aziraphale answered.

“But these aren’t your books,” Crowley grumbled. “I never mess with your books.”

Aziraphale gave him a sharp look. “Books are books. They are kept in a certain order so people can find them.”

“But, Angel” Crowley whined. 

Aziraphale’s blue eyes got lighter as he pinned Crowley with a look. “Fix them.”

Crowley folded in on himself. “Fine,” he mumbled and held up his hand to snap. 

“By hand,” the angel said, turning back to his work. 

The demon sputtered.

“You know how I feel about you miracling around books,” Aziraphale said. “Besides, it will keep you out of trouble for a while.”

Crowley grumbled but started pulling books off shelves and moving them around. 

Dean and Sam exchange looks of awe. They’d both seen the demon order the angel around, and thought that he was the one in charge of their relationship, but with the way Crowley acted, it might actually be Aziraphale in charge. With this new bit of information, the brothers went their own ways to ponder the pair in their library.

Chapter Text

A frustrated groan slipped from Sam as he leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his face and ruffled his hand through his hair trying to get more blood to his brain. He had been working on translating this cartouche for more than three hours. While Champollion’s notebook had helped, only half of the symbols had been in it. He’d tired scouring the internet, but nothing seemed to matched.

“Problem?” Crowley asked as he passed behind Sam with an armful of books. The demon hadn’t finished restoring order yet. 

Sam let out a sigh and waved at his project. “I can’t figure this thing out,” he admitted to the demon. “From some of the markings on the cartouche, I can guess it’s from the Third Dynasty, maybe Dojser, but these hieroglyphs make no sense.”

Crowley walked up and looked over his shoulder at the markings. He made a noise in his throat. “That’s a nasty little curse,” the demon said before turning away. “Even I wouldn’t be that mean.” He finished in a mumble of, “Genital warts.”

Sam stared at the paper in surprised. “Wait,” he called to the demon. “You can read this?” He turned to stare at Crowley in disbelief. 

“ ‘Corse I can read it,” Crowley said as he slipped books back onto the shelves where they belonged. “I lived in Giza when they put up the pyramids.”

“Busy convincing the pharaoh they needed bigger tombs, if I remember correctly,” Aziraphale said with a disapproving tone.

“Hey,” Crowley snapped back. “I’m not the one that got myself set up as an Egyption goddess!”

Aziraphale looked up from his transcription. Embarrassment brushed red across his cheeks. “I didn’t think losing a few feathers in a kerfuffle would cause so much trouble.”

“Shouldn’t have pulled your wings out in the temple,” Crowley admonished. 

“What was I supposed to do?” Aziraphale whined. “I could not stand idly by and let them kill that poor girl. She had done nothing wrong.”

“She was part of the retainer sacrifice for the pharaoh,” Crowley huffed. 

“Wait,” Sam interrupted the rising argument. He gave Aziraphale a confused look. “You’re an Egyption goddess?”

“Ma’at,” Crowley explained. “The priestess kept his feathers thinking they were the same ones used to weigh the human heart. Took me ages to sneak in and get them back.”

Sam looked over at the demon. “You went in and stole back his feathers?”

“Heaven was rather cross with me,” Aziraphale admitted. “They forbade me from using miracles to get them back, but I could not leave them in the hands of humans that could do real magic. They still had my Grace in them.”

“And Hell couldn’t object to me stealing a powerful magical item from an Egyption temple,” Crowley admitted. “It was a win win.”

Sam considered this before looking back at Aziraphale. “How did they confuse you with a goddess,” he waved at the angel. “You’re obviously male.”

The angel pursed his lips. “Our forms are more fluid than most,” he explained. “I present as male because that is how I am most comfortable. I can present as female if the need arises.”

“That particular temple was home to a female sect dedicated to Anubis,” Crowley explained. “Aziraphale had to be female to even get in there without being discorporated.” He smiled at the angel. “He makes a very pretty girl,” the demon admitted. “All soft and curvy.”

“Oh hush,” the angel said, embarrassed. He wiggled in his seat before looking up and giving the demon a more serious look. “Do you wish I was female more often?”

Crowley took a moment to consider it before answering. “Na,” he said, walking over to the angel. “Love you just the way you are.” He placed a kiss on top of Azirphale’s head before moving to another set of shelves and pulling out more books.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when his brother came up the steps.

“Hey,” Dean said as he picked up the cursed cartouche. “You ever figure out what this thing is?”

Sam’s mouth dropped open.

Crowley snickered from the other end of the room. “Genital warts,” he muttered again.

Chapter Text

The tip of his quill scraped over the page as Aziraphale worked. It was a very soothing sound and feel to the angel. He was so deep in concentration that he barely noticed the presence appear behind him. It was the cold heat of blessed steel touching his shoulder that pulled his attention from the scroll. He froze before turning his head minutely to look at the tip of the blade.

“What are you?” the raspy voice behind him asked. 

“An angel,” Aziraphale said. He gently put his quill down.

“No,” the voice said again. “You may have an angel’s Grace, but it feels wrong and you smell of demon.”

Aziraphale slowly turned towards the blade. The steel slipped off his shoulder and pulled back, but didn’t drop. The angel continued turning around until the two entities were facing. “I assure you,” Aziraphale said, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. “I am an angel. I just do not work for Upstairs anymore.” He hand clasped his pen and gently unscrewed the cap. His eyes traced the scruffy figure in the trench coat.

“Demon,” the figure growled, his sword rushed towards Aziraphale. 

Pulling out his pen, Aziraphale let it slip into the sword it was and knocked the other’s blade away. Electricity rushed up the blessed steel and loosened the attacking angel’s grasp. The sword flew across the room and clattered to the floor. 

“Get away from my Angel!” Crowley screamed from behind Aziraphale’s assailant. His staff appeared in his hand as his wings burst from his back. With a hard flap, he launched himself across the room and pinned the figure against his chest with his staff.

Aziraphale raised his sword between them in a protective stance.

“Wait!” Sam yelled as he rushed into the room.

****

The chaos the brothers ran into was not what they were expecting from this quiet afternoon. Just the sight of the glowing sword near Castiel had Dean pulling his gun.

“Drop him?” he ordered, pointing the gun at the demon holding a staff across across Cas’s chest. 

“He attacked my angel!” Crowley hissed. He yanked on the staff, forcing Cas to turn. The movement placed the angel solidly between Dean’s gun and the demon. 

“Dean,” Sam called. He waved his hand motioning for Dean to lower his gun. 

Dean did not like it, but he dropped the barrel so it wasn’t pointing at anyone.

Sam held his hands up and took a tentative step towards the angels and demon. “No one’s going to hurt Aziraphale.”

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said, lowering his sword. “I do believe there has been some kind of miscommunication. Truce?”

Cas gave him a pointed look, but nodded. “Truce.”

Crowley growled.

“Let him go,” Aziraphale said.

The demon gripped his staff tighter, but did not release Castiel.

Aziraphale, cocked his head and gave the demon an emploring look. “Please.”

A hiss slipped out of the demon, but he relented. “Fine,” he snapped. He loosened his grip on his staff and shoved Castiel away from Aziraphale. 

Cas stumbled and Sam rushed to catch him before he fell.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dean demanded. He raised the gun to point at Crowley again. While Cas was in danger, he hadn’t taken the time to notice the large black wings on the demon’s back, but now that they were apart, the wings were the only thing his eyes could see. “What the hell are you?” 

Crowley hissed at him before burying his face in his angel’s shoulder. The dark wings wrapped around the angel obscuring him from view.

“He’s a Fallen Angel,” Sam said, pulling Cas back to stand with Dean. 

“I didn’t expect him to have wings,” Dean muttered.

“Put your gun down so we can talk,” Sam ordered. 

Dean held his position for a heartbeat longer before dropping the wepon down. He still held it ready to raise if he needed it. 

Sam raised his hands again and stepped closer to the angel and demon. “I’m sorry about that.”

Crowley glared at him and hissed.

Aziraphale gently pushed the demon back so he was no longer wrapped around him. “It is quite all right,” he said. 

“It’ssss not alright,” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale soothed him before turning to face Sam. “We are strangers in his home. It is understandable that he would be upset.”

Crowley moved to stand behind Aziraphale. He placed his hands on the angel’s shoulder and pressed himself against the angel’s back. He stared over Aziraphale’s shoulder and hissed again. 

Aziraphale turned his head to look at the demon from the corner of his eyes. “Settle, my dear.” He petted the demon’s hip in a soothing motion. 

The demon settled down, but did not move or release the angel. 

Turning his attention back to Sam, Aziraphale smiled. “Perhaps some introductions are in order.” He held his sword in both hands with the tip pointing towards the floor. He made a point to turn off the crackling energy so it was just a simple steel blade. He gave his attention to Castiel. “I am the Principality Aziraphale, former Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden. My partner is Anthony J. Crowley, Serpent of Eden. Together, we guard the Earth from Heaven and Hell.”

“Aren’t doing a good enough job,” Dean mumbled.

Aziraphale glared at him pointedly. “We have done exactly what we were told,” he insisted. “We knew about your little turf war here in the states, but we were asked to stay out of it by one Chuck Shurley.”

Dean groaned. “Of course Chuck would keep several powerful allies out of it.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “He knew what he was doing,” the angel stated. “God’s plans are…”

“If you say ineffable, I’m biting you,” Crowley warned.

“Ineffable,” Aziraphale finished. 

True to his word, Crowley chomped down on the angel’s shoulder, making Aziraphale flinch. He glanced at the demon before turning his attention back to the hunters and their angel. 

Cas stepped forwards to study the pair. “So this is the Earth bound angel and his demon.”

Aziraphale gave Cas a pointed look. “Not what you were expecting?” he said in the tone he used for customers trying to buy books.

Cas cocked his head. “No,” he admitted in that blunt manor of his. “I didn’t think you would be this powerful.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, surprised. He stood up a little taller. “That is... interesting.” He pushed a smile onto his face. “And who might you be?”

Cas stood up taller. “Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”

Aziraphale smile warmed. “The angel of Thursday.”

“You know me?” Cas asked, cautiously.

“I know of you,” Aziraphale said. “If memory serves me, also the Angel of Temperance that stand over man and watched events play out.”

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Castiel said.

“My apologies,” Aziraphale said, bowing his head. “One should never assume to know another without a proper introduction.”

The passive aggressive comment stabbed at Cas and he looked away from Aziraphale. “Right,” he said gruffly. “Sorry about that.”

“It is quite all right,” Aziraphale said again. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, picking up Cas’s blade. “Where’d you get that sword?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Crowley made it for me.” He held it up so the hunter could see it. With a though, energy rushed down the steel, making it crackle. 

Sam came closer, but did not touch the blade. “He made a holy sword of electricity.”

“St. Elmo’s fire,” the demon growled from his place behind Aziraphale. 

Awe filled Sam. “And you made this?” he said looking up at the demon.

“He is very good at what he does,” Aziraphale said fondly.

“And you've had this with you this whole time?” Sam asked. He looked at the sword. Cas usually carried his blade up his sleeve, but this sword was much too large to fit up Aziraphale’s tight sleeves. 

“Of course,” Aziraphale admitted. “I do not go anywhere without it.” He gave the swords a slight flick and it shrunk down into the unassuming pen he had threatened Sam with earlier. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the cap and screwed it into place.

Sam stood back, eyes wide.

Aziraphale pocketed the pen again. “I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea.” He stepped out of Crowley’s grasp and turned towards the kitchen to make some up. 

Crowley stared at the brothers and their angel. He tapped his staff on the floor, making it disappear. “Stay away from my angel,” he growled in warning before scampering after Aziraphale with his wings waving behind him. 

Dean slowly pocketed his gun. “That went well,” he said sarcastically.

“It went better than it could have,” Sam said, turning around to give Cas back his blade. “His pen is a sword?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “Totally didn’t see that one.”

Chapter Text

Folding the top of the bag under, Sam set the loaf of bread back on the counter. He turned around to get his sandwich and froze. It was gone, plate and all. His eyes scanned over the table, looking for signs of where his meal had gone. Placing his hand on the table, he crouched down to see if he'd knocked the plate to the floor on accident, but it wasn’t there.

Movement from the door drew Sam’s eye. Something thin and black whipped around the corner.

Standing up, Sam hurried to the door. He leaned out into the hall and paused. The largest snake he had ever seen slithered down the hall. The plate with his sandwich was held tightly in the thing’s mouth.

 Not sure what was going on, Sam hurried after the snake stealing his sandwich.

The snake slithered down the hall, around the corner, and up the steps into the library. 

Sam followed and watched as the snake brought the sandwich over to Aziraphale. 

The snake stretched up and tapped the angel on the thigh with the plate.

The angel looked down in surprise. “Oh,” he said reaching down to take the plate. “Did you make this for me?” he beamed. “How thoughtful.” He move the plate to the table and let the snake crawl up in his lap.

The snake hissed and slithered up to warp around the angel’s shoulders. It rubbed its head against the angle’s cheek.

Aziraphale giggled and nuzzled the the snake back. “All right,” he said. “I’ll forgive you.”

Sam walked into the room, more curious about the snake than mad that the creature stole his lunch. At first, he’d been confused about the black and red reptile, but he’d realized it was Crowley as soon as it approached Aziraphale. “He turns into a snake?” Sam asked, coming closer.

The snake lifted it’s head like a cobra and hissed at Sam.

“He is the Serpent of Eden,” Aziraphale said, petting his hand down Crowley’s back. 

Crowley relaxed somewhat, but glared at Sam.

“I didn’t realize he could actually turn into a snake,” Sam said.

Aziraphale chuckled. “He only gets this snakey when we have fought,” the angel admitted.

“You fought?” Sam asked. The angel and demon had been so in tune on nearly everything that the hunter had a hard time believing anything could come between the pair.

“Sadly, yes,” the angel answered. He rubbed his cheek against the serpent’s neck while his fingers stroked down its back. “He was upset that Castile attacked me. He wanted to retaliate, but I would not let him.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Aziraphale shrugged. “It was a misunderstanding. No one was hurt and no harm done,” the angel explained. “I see no reason for retaliation. Sadly, my love was more persistent. I am afraid I was rather cross with him.” He gave the snake a kiss on the scales near his cheek. “But it seems we have come to some understanding.” He waved his hand and at the sandwich.

Crowley stuck his tongue out at Sam before turning and tapping his snout against the angel’s cheek.

Sam wasn’t sure if the motion was the demon smelling like a snake, or a tease at getting away with stealing the sandwich, but the hunter let it go. Somehow, seeing the pair happy was worth one sandwich. He didn't want to rocking the boat. Sam let out a soft snort in amusement. “Enjoy the sandwich,” he said, turning to go make another. He was almost out of the room when he heard the angel speak again, indignation ringing in his words.

“Did you just steal his sandwich?”

Sam laughed all the way back to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Dean carried a box of demon hunting supplies in from the Impala. His foot caught on something on the floor and he tripped. “Shit,” he cried as he shoved the box away from him and rolled so he wouldn't land on it. There were several dangerous items in there that could hurt him. A vial of holy water arched up out of the box and crashed to the floor. A loud hiss sounded from the vicinity of the broken vial.

Dean froze and looked up to find a huge red and black snake curled on the floor. Its body was covered in broken glass and water.

“Arsehole,” the snake hissed before turning and slithering away.

Dean stared. It took his brain a few seconds to come to terms with a snake talking to him. It then took another moment to realize he recognized the voice of their resident demon. More synapses fired and horror took over. He’d just doused said snake demon with a vial of Holy water. Holy water was terribly bad for demons. “Oh shit.”

Scrambling up from the floor, Dean raced after the snake to check on it. When he rounded the corner, he found Crowley slithering up into Aziraphale’s lap. “Is he okay?” the hunter asked.

Aziraphale looked up from his scroll. “What?” he asked. His hand dropped to the demon’s back. The angel’s nose wrinkled and he looked down at the serpent. “Why are you wet?”

“I dropped a vial of holy water on him,” Dean admitted. 

Aziraphale gave Dean a shocked look. “Holy water is lethal to corporeal demons.”

“I know,” Dean said, distressed. “Is he all right?”

The angel smile. “Of course,” he said. “Nothing a minor miracle can not fix.” The angel snapped his fingers and petted the demon again. “There,” he said in a loving tone. “All dry.”

The snake rubbed his cheek against the angel before tapping his snout against the angel’s cheek in a snakey kiss.

Aziraphale grinned. “I love you, too.”

Dean just stood there with his mouth gaping open. How had the demon escaped without damage? He wanted to ask, but his brain was in the process of shorting out. Instead, he turned and left. He had a broken vial and a box full of demon hunting equipment to clean up.

Chapter Text

Dean wasn’t sure what the noise coming from the library was, but it didn’t sound good. He rushed across the war room, ready to help if there was a fight.

Sam stood at the bottom of the steps staring up into the library. He turned as soon as he heard his brother. The look on Sam’s face stopped Dean in his track.

Sam walked the few steps to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You do not want to go in there,” Sam said gently.

Dean looked at the bewildered expression on Sam’s face. He pulled away from his brother and headed towards the steps. There was no way he was not going to see what caused that look. He stopped before he mounted the steps. 

Upbeat 60’s music blasted from an antique radio setting on the second table. But it wasn’t the music that stopped him. Crowley and Aziraphale clung together. The demon had one arm wrapped tightly around the angel’s waist. The angel had one arm up the demons back, gripping his shoulder. Their other hands were clasped together in what appeared to be a dancing embrace but everything about the scene was wrong. One was much too stiff while the other moved like they were missing bone. They rocked to a beat that didn’t belong to the song playing. Crowley belted out the words. It wasn’t exactly out of tune, but it raked against Dean’s ears. Aziraphale laughed with such delight that it made Dean want to cry. The whole scene was like watching the most horrific train wreck imaginable in slow motion, but knowing everyone miraculously survived completely unharmed. Both joyous and terrifying at the same time.

Dean slowly backed away from the steps, unsure how to unjumble the feelings coursing through him. He’d never be able to hear the song Sugar Sugar again without flashback to whatever was happening in the library. He turned to find his brother standing there with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Told ya,” Sam said, smugly.

Dean gave him a bewildered look. “You want to go get a beer?” He needed a drink after that.

Sam smiled. “Sure.”

Before the boys could turn away, the song changed and the most beautiful voice picked up the words for the new song.

Sam and Dean stopped and looked at each other in awe. They both knew the song My Love by Petula Clark, but they had never heard it sung with such grace and sincerity. They both turned back to listen to the angel serenade his demon.

Chapter Text

“Please, Angel,” Crowley begged. 

“Really?” Aziraphale asked. He glanced over at the brother with a dubious look.

“I need it,” the demon whined.

Aziraphale sighed heavily. “All right.” He backed up and perched on the edge of the table. He snapped his fingers and miracled up a white, electric guitar. He strummed a few gentle chords, tuning the instrument. Once he was happy, he looked up at demon. “Ready?”

Crowley smiled. He snapped a black tambourine into existence. “Hit it, Angel!”

Dean’s eyes widened as Aziraphale hit the first rifts of the rock song. He looked at the demon getting into the groove. “He plays guitar?” 

Crowley laughed and shook his tambourine. “Sure beats strumming a harp.”

“They do not play harps in Heaven,” Aziraphale corrected. He hit the start of the vocals, leaving no more room for conversations.

“Get your motor running,” Crowley belted out.

Dean shrugged and added his voice. “Head out on the highway!” If you can’t beat them, join them.

Chapter Text

Dean dropped another box filled with junk on the table. The Men of Letters had so much random shit in their vaults.

Reaching in the box, Dean started pulling things out. His fingers brushed against something warm. Looking down in the box, he spied a glint of silver. Moving things around, Dean fished up a metal ball. “Hey, Sam,” Dean called as he inspected the orb.

The ball was about three inches across with a flame motif. A seam ran around the middle with a circular catch holding the two sides together. The metal was pleasantly warm to the touch. Curious about what was inside, Dean placed his thumb on the catch and pushed.

Fire exploded from the ball,  throwing Dean back. He slammed into the metal banister of the steps.  His head cracked into the railing and he slumped to the floor. His consciousness wavered as flames flickered in and out of his hazy vision. The last thing he heard before passing out was his brother calling his name.

***

“Dean!” Sam screamed, he burst into the room and came up short in the heat. He’d spent enough time in Hell to recognize infernal flames. He crossed his arms over his face and prepared to plunge through in an attempt to save his brother.

“Keep back.”

The power in the angel’s voice held Sam back. He watched in horror as the angel walked straight into the Hellfire.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called as he hurried through the burning room. “Be a dear and deal with the flames, please.”

The demon appeared next to Sam. “Are you hurt?”

Sam shook his head. “Dean,” he whispered.

Crowley put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and pulled him back.

“Leave him to Aziraphale,” the demon said, stepping in front of the hunter. “Just stay back.”

Sam retreated from the heat.

The demon walked into the inferno and raised his hands. The sparks of fire rushed towards him as if they were moths and he was the flame. It was an awesome sight to see.

Sam turned away from the demon gathering the fire and looked towards the angel. Aziraphale stood over Dean. The flames licked at the angel, but didn’t touch him. It was an impossibility that Sam couldn’t process in his worry for his brother.

Picking up the injured hunter, the angle spread his wings and brought them around in front of him. With Dean secure inside his feathers, the angel hurried back through the burning room to where Sam was waiting. “I need a bed,” Aziraphale said, pulling his wings open.

Dean was unconscious and pale. Blood dripped from the back of his head.

“This way,” Sam said, dancing back from the angel and his injured brother. He led the way to Dean’s room and threw open the door. “Will he be okay?”

Aziraphale carried Dean through the door and carefully laid him on the bed. “Yes,” the angel said as he sorted Dean into a comfortable position.  “I am sure he will make a miraculous recovery.” The angel pressed his hand to the hunter’s head. “With no head wound or concussion.” He passed his hand over Dean’s torso. “And no broken bones or bruising.” The angel looked tired when he moved away from the hunter. 

Dean’s complexion had greatly improved.

“He just needs some rest,” Aziraphale said and pulled Dean’s covers up over him. The angel stood straight, folded his hands. He gave Sam a weary smile. “Will you stay with him?”

“Of course,” Sam answered. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and nodded his head. “Good.” He opened his eyes and looked at Sam again. “I should go see if Crowley needs help.”

Before Sam could say anything, Aziraphale was out of the door, a feather fluttered to the floor behind him.  Bending down, Sam scooped up the lost feather. It was white as fresh snow with swirls of silver and gold. Sam’s mind churned. Hellfire was one of the few things that could destroy an angel, yet Aziraphale has walked straight in without fear and not a single barb of the fallen feather was singed from the heat. How was that even possible?

Shaking his head, Sam clutched the feather and turned back to his sleeping brother. He sat down on the foot of the bed to ponder the impossibly. Things were not adding up in his brain.

Chapter Text

Warmth and comfort wrapped around Dean as he came back to consciousness. He turned over and snuggled down into his bed. It took him a few minutes to realize he was in his own bed and it was more comfortable than normal. He blinked away sleep and tried to remember how he’d gotten there. 

Fire. He remembered there being an explosion and fire. There was a burst of pain at the back of his head, but everything after that was missing. Dean looked around and found Sam laying across the foot of his bed, asleep. “Hey, Sammy,” he called.

Sam drew in a deep breath as he woke up. He sat up and blinked several times. He turned to look at his brother. “Dean,” Sam said. He ran his hand over his face, waking up. “Are you all right?”

Dean shifted in the bed so he was sitting up. “Yeah,” he yawned and stretched. “What happened?”

Turning to face Dean, Sam shook his head. “Not sure,” he admitted. “Was hoping you could tell me.”

Rubbing his hand through his hair, Dean worked his memory. “There was a ball in the box,” he said. “It was warm.” He held his hand out as if he was holding the orb again. His thumb moved as it had when he compressed the catch. “I opened it.”

Sam gave him an irritated look. “Apparently it contained Hellfire,” the younger brother pointed out.

“It exploded,” Dean said quietly.

“The room was engulfed by the time I got there,” Sam admitted.

Dean’s face held a grim expression. “Why am I not dead?”

Sam drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Aziraphale walked through the flames and carried you out.”

This made Dean’s eyebrows crawl up his face. “Aziraphale?” 

Sam nodded. 

“The angel?” Dean asked, making sure he understood.

Sam nodded again.

“Through Hellfire?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. He held up the feather Aziraphale had dropped. “And it didn’t even touch him?”

Dean took the undamaged feather and rolled it in his fingers.  He looked up at his brother, awe covered his face. “And the fire?”

Sam drew in another breath and let it out. “Last I saw, Crowley was putting it out.”

“And the war room?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t been back out since Aziraphale asked me to stay with you,” he admitted. 

“Do you think we should go take a look?” Dean asked, pushing back the covers.

Nodding, Sam stood up and joined him. “Probably.”

***

The only signs of the fire that had raged in the war room was a bit of chard cardboard sitting on the table where the box had been.  Sam and Dean scanned the room. The only thing out of place was the couch on the far side of the room pressed up against the control panels. It was the same couch Crowley had miracled into place earlier. The demon was propped up on one end. 

Dean came around the table to speak with the demon, but stopped. A large lump of tanish tartan material was thrown across the rest of the couch. It took the hunter a moment to realize it was a blanket covering Aziraphale. The angel’s head rested in the demon’s lap.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked, nodding at the angel.

“Oh yeah,” Crowley said nonchalantly. His hand rubbed the blanket over the sleeping angel. “Just tired. Miracling away near death by Hellfire does that,” the demon sassed. He ran his fingers through the angel’s short curls and sighed. “We haven’t done anything that exciting in a while,” he said more gently. He gave Dean a pointed look. “Please don’t make a habit of it.”

Sam looked guilty. “That’s pretty much our life.”

“Ngk,” the demon said, disgusted. “How does your angel survive?”

Dean looked offended. “We take good care of Cas.”

“He’s only died twice,” Sam muttered. 

Dean shot him a dirty look.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean before turning away to leave.

“He got better,” Dean said defensively.

Crowley curled his hand over Aziraphale protectively and glared at Dean. “Stay away from my angel.”

Dean shrugged and turned away from the pair on the couch. “I’ve died way more times then Cas has,” he added as he started to walk away. He paused and turned back to the demon. "Thank you for not letting me die again."

Crowley shrugged. "You can thank the angel when he wakes back up." 

Dean nodded his head and walked away. He'd find some way to make it up to them both.

Chapter Text

“What are they?” Sam asked, looking at Cas for an answer. “Hellfire is lethal to angels and holy water destroys demons. But they don’t affect those two.”

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered. “I’ve checked with everyone I know in Heaven and have gotten the same answer time and time again. Aziraphale is a renegade angel. He had something to do with the apocalypse thirty years ago, but no one knows what part he played.”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “There was an Apocalypse thirty years ago?”  

“It failed,” Castiel explained. 

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Castiel turned to look at the younger brother. “It was foretold that the Earth would end in fire and flames after six thousand years,” he explained. “The Antichrist was born, the four horsemen were called, the armies of Heaven and Hell were ready to march, then the whole thing was called off.”

“Called off,” Sam said in disbelief. 

“Yes,” Cas continued. “We were told there was a flaw in the Divine Plan and ordered to stand down and go back to work until things could be corrected. Gabriel blamed Aziraphale specifically.”

“Wait,” Sam stopped Cas again. “How can one angel stop the end of the world?”

“Not sure,” Cas explained. “No one really knows what happened, and the few that do are either dead or refuse to acknowledge the event ever happened.”

The hunters considered what Cas said. 

“We could always ask them?” Dean suggested. 

“What?” Sam said offensively. “Like take them out for drinks and say, ‘Hey, heard you help not end the world. Want to talk about that? Pip Pip, Cheerio’.” The sarcasme in his voice could have killed. He gave Dean a withering look. “Do you really think they would answer?”

“Then what do you suggest?” Dean snapped back.

“We could ask Crowley,” Sam suggested with a partial shrug.

“The other Crowley?” Dean asked. He didn’t sound too happy with that idea.

“The Apocalypse was Hell’s idea,” Castiel added. “The King of Hell would most likely know why it went wrong.”

“We’ve called him for less,” Sam pointed out.

Dean let out a deep sigh. “Fine,” he agreed. “But let’s not tell them what we’re doing.”

“Let me know what you find out,” Cas said. “I need to get back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “We’ll let you know.”

Chapter Text

“Hello, boys,” Crowley said from the inside of the devil’s trap. He gave the hunters an irritated look. “What do you want this time? Need help with your homework? Kitten up a tree?”

Sam made an irritated face at the King of Hell. “What do you know about the demon Crowley?” he asked, not letting the former Crossroads demon get on his nerves. 

Crowley pulled his head back and gave Sam a confused look. “I am the demon Crowley.”

Dean shook his head. “The other Crowley. The snakey Crowley.”

Sam shot his brother a dirty look. “The Serpent of Eden,” he clarified. 

“That traitor,” Crowley sneared. “Why do you want to know about that useless Earth lover?”

The hunters exchanged a knowing look. 

“We heard he hung around with an angel that stopped the Apocalypse thirty years ago,” Sam explained.

Crowley laughed out loud. “That fool!” He bent over holding his sides trying to stop laughing. “No,” he huffed, trying to catch his breath. “That angel couldn’t find his way out of a wet paper bag, let alone stop the Apocalypse. How he avoided Crawley for six thousand years is beyond me.” He scoffed. “I think the traitor took it easy on him so Heaven wouldn’t send down someone more competent.”

The boys gave each other confused looks. “What do you mean?” Dean pried.

Crowley scoffed. “Crawley was one of Hell’s best agents,” the king explained. “He’s responsible for many of the worst things in the world: the Spanish Inquisition, World War II, traffic jams, selfies. Hell, what he did with the M25 around London was a stroke of genius. It’s why I took his name when I became a demon.” Crowley sneered. “But the man got soft. Started enjoying life on Earth. Went native. But the higher ups in Hell didn’t realize it until it was too late. When they sent him the Antichrist, the demon switched the babies. Send an innocent child off to be raised as the Antichrist and took the real one to be coddled and cared for so when the time came to end the world, the kid didn’t want to do it. Then he got that damn angel to question the Divine plan. Made everyone question it too.” Crowley paused. “Actually, thinking back on it now, it was a pretty good idea to keep this ball of dirt turning. Although, it didn’t go over well with Hell.”

“What happened?” Sam asked. 

“Crawley was brought back, put on trial, and sentenced to death by Holy water for the murder of Ligur,” Crowley explained.

“But he wasn’t killed,” Dean pointed out. “What happened?”

Crowley shrugged. “No idea,” he admitted. “I was there when Micheal brought down the Holy water. Whole bathtub full of the stuff. We all watched as the bugger stripped down to his skivvies and climbed right in. Asked for a bloody rubber duck! He even had the nerve to make Micheal miracle him a towel when it was obvious the water wouldn’t work. Haster was fit to be tied, but the rest of us swore to never bother the traitor again. ”

“So what happened to him?” Sam asked.

Crowley gave them another shrug. “Last I heard he was bouncing around London in an antique Bentley causing trouble in Soho. I hear that the angel has a bookshop there, but Hell stays as far away from that pair as we can.” He gave the brothers a dubious look. “Why are you asking about the Serpent anyway?”

Dean looked at his brother, but Sam just shrugged. “Was wondering if we could get Aziraphale to help Cas in Heaven.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Crowley said. “The man’s an idiot. Gave away his only defence when God kicked man out of Eden. The only reason we haven’t destroyed him is the Serpent. We tried for a while, but Crawley kept sending demons back warning them to stay away from ‘his angel’.” Crowley threw his hands up in air quotes. “Bloody freak.” He rolled his eyes before looking at the hunters again with a board expression. “Is there anything else, or can I go back to Hell? I got a whole list of nothing I got to do today and I want to get back to it.”

“Yeah,” Dean said as he stepped up to the edge of the circle. “Thanks.” He rubbed out part of the circle. 

“Later, Boys,” Crowley said right before he disappeared.

Sam and Dean turned to look at each other. 

“Did any of that make sense to you?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“Do you think Crowley could have really started the Spanish Inquisition?” Sam asked doubliously.

“Dude,” Dean said pointedly. “Are we talking about the same demon that’s been gluing quarters to the floor and making an angel cocoa?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, agreeing with Dean’s inability to believe what the King of Hell had said. “There’s got to be more to this story than we are seeing.”

Dean shrugged. “We could always ask?”

Sam gave him a resigned look. “We may have to if we want to find out what really  happened.”

Chapter Text

“That can’t be right,” Cas said as he sat on the edge of Dean’s bed. Sam and Dean sat with him pondering the stories the King of Hell had told of the Serpent. “I went back to check Gabriel’s files. There’s a whole vault filled with reports on Aziraphale’s good deeds on Earth.” He seemed bewildered. “The man has done some amazing things. For a while, he was the only angel on Earth. If there was a blessing or miracle to perform, it was sent to him. He is almost single handedly responsible for religious texts and illustrated manuscripts.” He paused, contemplating what he had learned.

“I had a harder time getting a hold of his personnel file,” Cas explained. “Apparently Gabriel took his anger with the angel out on the paperwork. What I could read of it stated that he was a diligent worker that ate too much and horded books.There were also an astonishing number of reprimands for too many 'frivolous miracles'. There was mention of a constant advisory but the file had been scribbled in and all I could make out was ‘damn snake’.” Cas looked at the hunters. “Do you think that refers to Crowley?”

“Most definitely,” Sam agreed.

“Something isn’t lining up,” Dean pointed out. “Hell thinks Az is a fool but Crowley is great, but Az is amazing in Heaven, and Crowley is only mentioned in passing.”

“Az?” Sam said in a disapproving tone.

Dean shrugged. “You know who I mean.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in disapproval, but he let the nickname slide. “But you’re not wrong. The accounts don’t add up. From what we’ve seen, neither of them are that incompetent or amazing. Unless they are playing us all for fools.”

“Are you saying it’s all a ruse?” Cas asked. “That they’ve been playing both sides against each other for thousands of years?”

“No,” Dean exclaimed as things fell into place for him. "That makes perfect sense."

Sam shot him a disturbed looks. “How? Angels and demons are enemies.”

“But what if they are not?” Dean proposed. “What if they're just two guys doing their job? And their job was to thwart the other. I mean, you can't expect them to hate each other if they've never been given a reason to hate each other."

"Um...” Sam said. "What about the war between Heaven and Hell?"

Dean waved it away. "They're field agents," Dean pointed out. "How many times have we see enemies cooperate to get a job done? How many times have we been those enemies?"   

Sam chewed on his lip as he turned Dean's idea over in his mind.

“Look,” Dean explained. “They’re the only two being on Earth from the very beginning. But they’re on opposite sides. Which means they’ve spent thousands of years undoing each other’s work. That’s got to be frustrating. And we know they aren’t stupid. At some point in time they had to realize how pointless it all is. It makes sense that they would come to some arrangement and start working together.”

Sam rolled that thought over. “Like, if one went to cause trouble while the other went to stop it. Maybe they would just agree to not do either.”

“No,” Cas said in disagreement. “Angels take their work seriously. I don’t believe Aziraphale would shirk his responsibility because a demon asked him to. That’s almost as unthinkable as an angel doing temptations because he had work in the same area and the demon didn’t want to go.”

“Well something happened,” Dean added. “Because you don’t get married to your enemy. Even if God ships you.”

Cas pressed his lips together in disapproval. “It should not be. Demons don’t feel base emotions like love. Maybe there is something wrong with their physical forms. They are several thousand years old. Bodies break down over time.”

“Speaking of,” Sam said, standing up from the bed. He went to Dean’s desk and pulled out the feather Aziraphale had dropped. “What do you make of this?” He came back to his seat and handed the feather to Cas.

Cas held it up so the light shimmered in the gold and silver accents in the white plumage. “Where did you get this?”

“Aziraphale dropped it after saving Dean.”

Cas stoked the feather. “It’s unlike any angel feather I’ve ever seen. Even mine don’t have this much power in them.” He held it out for Sam to take back. 

“Mine!” A loud voice called through the room, startling the boys. A dark object dropped from the ceiling onto Cas’s hand. He dropped the feather as they all jumped back in surprise. A black snake hissed, snapped up the feather, and disappeared before anyone could draw a weapon.

Dean, Sam, and Castiel stood there in shock, trying to process what happened.

Dean blinked and looked towards the slightly open door. "Was that Crowley?"

"Yeah," Sam said, still in shock.

“How much do you think he heard?” Dean asked.

“Not sure,” Sam said looking towards the door. “We could ask.”

Dean gave his brother a considering look, “Do you think he would tell the truth?”

“No,” Cas answered. “He’s a demon.”

“I guess we find out some other way,” Sam suggested. 

“How?” Dean asked.

“There has got to be records of a failed apocalypse thirty years ago.

“Yay,” Dean said  with very fake enthusiasm. “Research.”

Sam pursued his lips and gave Dean a withering look.

“I’ll check with heaven again to see if anyone knows anything else,” Cas added before he disappeared.

“Well,” Sam said, moving towards the door. “Better get to work.”

Chapter Text

Sam stood next to his brother as Dean held the next scroll. His eyes laid on the book in Aziraphale’s hands.

“Angel,” Crowley said. “Can this scroll be used to physical injury a celestial being?”

“No,” Aziraphale said. The book rested gently on one of his hands. The other hand laid on top of the book as he waited for the demon to continue.

“Is there anything dangerous in the book?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale drew in a breath and let it out. “Potential,” he said.

Crowley turned to look at him. “Can you explain?”

The angel opened the book. “The scroll contains a list of recipes for beads and wines that haven’t been made in nearly a thousand years. It is truly a marvelous find. But this recipe,” The angel held the book out for Sam to see. “Contains a flaw,” the angel explained. “If you brew this wine according to the instructions, the cask could explode. You need to remove the yeast starter before trying to store the wine.”

“Is that it?” Dean groaned.

Aziraphale glowered at the hunter. “Properly made wine is well worth the effort.”

“Effort,” Crowley snickered.

A hint of red color Aziraphale’s ears. “Do behave, my dear,”

Crowley snickered again, but didn’t say more on the subject. Instead he turned his interests to the scroll in Dean’s hand. “Is this translation acceptable?” He looked at Sam, already looking at the book in Aziraphale’s hands.

“Yes,” Sam said flipping a few pages.

“Here,” Dean said, shoving the scroll at Crowley. 

As soon as the scroll was in the demon’s hands, Aziraphale placed the book in Sam’s.

“Two down, four to go,” Crowley said cheerfully. 

Aziraphale smiled. “How about dinner before I hop on the next one?”

Crowley smiled wide. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“Whatever,” Dean muttered and strolled away. He really didn’t want to sit through another session of Aziraphale making out with his food while Crowley watched.

Chapter Text

“Angel.”

Aziraphale looked up at the sound of Crowley’s voice. It was strained with pain.

The demon leaned against the wall at the top of the steps from the war room.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called as he dropped his quill and hurried to the demon’s side. “What happened?” He leaned his shoulder into the demon to support him. It was obvious he wasn’t doing well. 

“Hellfire,” the demon muttered. “Started it.” The demon pulled his glasses off. His golden eyes were hazed over with a bluish film.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale gasped. “Do you want to go back to Soho for this?”

Crowley shook his head. “Would damage books,” he said in a labored breath.

“Do you want to go to the Cottage?”

Crowley shook his head again. “No time,” he panted. “It hurts.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. “Then we will have to do it here.” He snapped his fingers clearing everything out of the war room.

***

Dean walked in from the back and was surprised to find Aziraphale had moved from his accustomed seat. The angel’s jacket was tossed haphazardly over the table.

A very loud and angry hiss put a little pep in Dean’s step and he hurried over to see what was going on. He froze as soon as he could see into the war room. A gigantic snake coiled around the emptied space. The thing's head was the size of Aziraphale’s body. The angel stood in his waist coat with his sleeves rolled back, his sword held out in front of him with just the tip rested on the end of the Serpent’s snout.

Horror rushed through Dean as he watched the angle drive the sword straight into the snake's nose all the way to the hilt, twist it sharply, and rip it up through the top of the snake's head.

“Hey,” he yelled and rushed forward, not sure how he could save the demon snake from such a horrendous injury.

Aziraphale turned and looked at Dean. “Oh good,” he said, dropping his sword beside him. “Could you give me a hand, please.” The angle shoved his hands into the ruined skin and started tearing it open.

“Hey,” Dean cried out again and grabbed the angel’s arm. Dean pulled him away from the injured snake. “What the hell, do you think you’re doing?”

Aziraphale gave him a confused look. “If we do not get the skin off, he could die,” the angel fussed. He pulled his arm out of Dean’s hold and went back to tearing at the skin on the snakes head. “Normally he would go back to Hell for this, but things have changed and the skin is too thick for him to rub off on his own.”

Dean looked at the skin. The snake was black with a whitish sheen to its scales. In the area where Aziraphale had cut, Dean could see fresh black scales peeking out of the wound. “He’s sheading?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, still pulling on the dead skin. “The Hellfire sped up his natural molt.”

Reaching up, Dean grabbed a hold of one of the ripped edges of skin. It was as thick as leather. “Damn,” he said as he braced himself on the side of Crowley’s head and pulled the flap back. “Does he do this often?”

Aziraphale moved to pull on the other half. “No,” the angel said. “Only ever few hundred years.”

Once they had gotten the skin on Crowley’s head mostly pulled back, Aziraphale stopped. “That’s good.” He touched Dean’s arm, moving the hunter back. “Okay dear,” the angel called to the giant snake. “If you want to stretch a bit and roll, I will go get some water to help.” The angel picked up his sword and lead the hunter back to the library. 

Crowley let out a grateful hiss before lifting his head high into the air. He opened his jaw and contorted his face in weird ways that popped his fangs out. He wiggled around in the room, loosening the skin.

Dean looked at the massive snake in awe and horror. “Is he poisonous?”

“No, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he picked up a bucket of water. “Crowley is not poisonous.  He is, however, venomous. So do be careful around the fangs.”

Dean watched as the angel walked back over to the large snake and attacked its head with a wet flannel. Taking a deep breath, he went to see how he help. It was the least he could do, given the demon was in this predicament because he had helped save Dean’s life.

Chapter Text

Sam and Dean both laid on the floor of the war room exhausted. Scraps of snake skin were scattered everywhere. Crowley was mostly peel out of his old skin.

The entire night had been dedicated to getting the Serpent free. Aziraphale had spent hours pushing water under Crowley’s skin while Sam and Dean rubbed the outside of the skin, trying to work the scales loose. Once they had gotten Crowley’s head free, the Serpent had help to rip the skin off. That had made things faster, but it was still hard work.

Sam laid there, staring at some of the newly exposed scales. The top side of the snake was a beautiful black that almost shimmered in the light while the belly of the beast was a brilliant red. Not a coloration he could remember seeing in real life. He reached out to the massive coil and stroked the skin. It was cool and soft. Before Sam’s finger finished their pass, the snake’s massive head hung over the hunter. It cocked in what could only be a questioning stance.

Sam stared at the snake and said the first thing that came to his tired mind. “You’re beautiful.” His fingers ran over the scales again. 

A shiver ran down the length of the snake.

“I tell him that all the time,” Aziraphale called from where he was still working. “But he does not listen to me.”

The snake raised his head to look at his partner.  “Basssstard Angel.”

“Wily Old Serpent,” Aziraphale called back. There was definitely love in their voices. 

“And on that note,” Dean said, pushing up from the floor. “I’m done.” He turned to the hall leading to their rooms.

Sam chuckled and sat up. “I should probably head to bed too.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said from where he'd lifted his sword to slice away more of the thick skin. “You both have been of great service, thank you.”

“Let us know if you need anything else,” Sam said as he followed his brother out.

Aziraphale muttered a reply, but the angel’s attention was wholly on the snake.

Dean pause inside the hall that lead to their rooms. He gave Sam a bewildered look. “Dude,” he said in awe. “We just peeled a gigantic snake.”

Sam gave his brother a thoughtful look. “Not the weirdest thing we’ve ever done.”

Dean gave Sam the same expression. He snorted in amusement, but made no further comment. It truly wasn’t the weirdest thing they had done.

“What do you think they're going to do with the skin?” Sam asked. The shead skin was thick as leather. Could it be used for anything leather could? Sam also wondered if it held any magical properties.  It was demon skin.

Dean shook his head and walked away. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” He pushed into his room to take a nap.

Sam let the subject go as he went to his room. He’d ask Aziraphale about it later.

***

Sam walked into the war room and looked around, astonished.  The place was back as it was before Crowley’s molting. The table was miraculously back in the center, the snake was gone, the water and skin were nowhere to be seen. Everything looked normal. 

He rubbed his eyes and blinked. Did he dream the whole thing with the snake? Turning around he went back to his brother’s room. “Dean,” he called, waking his brother up.

“Yeah,” Dean said, startling up from his bed.

“Did we peel a giant snake last night?” Sam asked.

Dean gave him a confused look. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam said turning around. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t losing it.”

“You lost it a long time ago,” Dean muttered as he dropped back to his bed. 

Sam snorted in amusement. “Probably, “ he muttered before heading out to start his day.

Chapter Text

“Good morning,” the angel said brightly as he came into the library.

“Morning,” Sam answered without really looking up. 

“I am going to make some tea before I get started, would you like some?” The angel asked.

Sam thought about it for a moment. “That sounds nice,” he admitted. “Yes, please.”

“Very good,” the angel said, beaming brightly. “Will be just a tick.” He set a large wicker basket on the table next to his scrolls and hurried off to the kitchen.

Sam stared at the basket. It was cream in color with a tartan lining folded over the edge. The top of the basket was closed, but it looked like something one would carry a picnic in. Curiosity pulled at the hunter, but he didn’t get up to see what the angel was hiding in the basket.

As if summoned by Sam’s curiosity,  Dean wandered in from the back. “Hey, Sammy,” he called. His attention was drawn by the basket. “What’s this?” He flipped the top of the hamper open, stared down in it for a moment, closed the top, and walked away. “I don’t want to know,” he muttered as he left.

Unable to contain himself, Sam stood up and came closer to the basket. Aziraphale came back with the tea before Sam could make it to the basket. After seeing his brother’s reaction, he couldn’t leave it alone. Dragging up his courage, he nodded to the basket as Aziraphale set out the tea.

“What’s in the basket?” Sam asked.

Aziraphale looked at the large hamper. “Crowley,” the angle explained. “His scales are very sensitive right now. I thought I’d put him in something warm to make him comfortable.” The angle walked over and flipped the lid open. “Come on, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he fished the black snake out out of the basket.  A few stray feathers clung to the snake.

Crowley hissed, but coiled around the angel’s hands.

“Now do not give me that,” the angel scolded gently. “You know sheading dehydrates you. Join us for some tea, then you can go back to your kip.” The angel set the snake down next to a saucer of tea.

Crowley hissed angrily, but curled around the small plate to sip the tea.

“See, that is better,” Aziraphale said as he picked the white feathers off the snake and put them back in the basket. 

Sam moved so he could peek down in the basket. The interior was lined with the same tartan material folded over the edge and the bottom was filled with white feathers. They seemed to be the same down Crowley has pulled from Aziraphale’s wings a few days before. There was a hollow in the middle just big enough for the snake. He turned to find the angel looking at him with an expectant look on his face. 

Sam curled his hand around his mug of tea, shook his head, and walked back to his computer without saying a word. Who was he to question the angel’s choice of bedding for his demon husband? Snuggling in angel down was probably the closest thing to Heaven the demon was likely to get.

Chapter Text

Dean leaned back in his chair and nursed his beer. A movie played on the screen in front of him, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. His eyes kept moving to the angel, hard at work on the third scroll. The basket containing the demon sat close to his side. The dynamic between the pair confused Dean. Neither the stories from Heaven or Hell explained them. Cas had been sure the angel wouldn’t be involved with the ideas Dean had come up with, but he could find no other explanation that fit the pair. He wrestled with his thoughts, trying to figure things out. 

Could he simply ask the angel? He’d never had a good experience with straight up asking supernatural creatures to explain themselves. And demons weren’t known for telling the truth. Dean pushed this thought away. He was going to have to coax or trick the story out of Aziraphale. But how?

“You want to know?” a voice at the back of Dean’s brain hissed.

Dean drew in a breath and bit his lip. He did want to know.

“Or do you need to know?”

Pulling in a deeper breath, Dean held it. His desire to know about the angel and demon was starting to become a need.

“Can’t asssk them out right. They would never tell,” the voice stressed the fears Dean had. “Isss a ssssecret.”

Dean turned his head and glanced behind him. The voice spoke his thoughts, but he was sure he’d actually hear it. There was nothing there, so he relaxed back to his chair and tried to pay attention to his movie. He sipped his beer and stole glances at the angel while his mind worked.

“Will have to coaxsss it out of them,” the voice whispered again.

Dean rocked slightly in his chair thinking. Coaxing it out of them would be the best way to do it. He nodded, deciding on that idea. “How?” the word slipped from his lips in a soft whisper.

“Food?” the voice offered.

The angel did like food? Dean considered this for a moment, but quickly shook that idea away. Watching the Angel eat bordered on pornography. Not something he really wanted to watch. Besides, how was he supposed to get Aziraphale to talk if he was busy stuffing his face?

“Wine?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced at Aziraphale. A nice glass of wine seemed like something the angel might enjoy. Although Dean hadn’t seen him drink more, Aziraphale had indulged in several glasses of the alcohol Crowley had brought him with dinner. They had discovered several bottles of wine in the Men of Letters cellars. Maybe he could use those to loosen up the angel to the point where he would talk.

He pondered that thought for a few minutes before reaching up and closing the top on Sam’s laptop. He drained the rest of his beer and got up. Plying the angel with wine until he talked sounded like a good idea. Dean didn’t know much about wine, but he was sure Sammy would. Now he had to find his brother and run the idea past him.

***

Aziraphale looked down as Crowley slithered up his leg. “There you are,” the angel said, reaching down to pick the snake up. “Where have you been?” He placed the snake on his shoulder.

Crowley slithered around until he hung comfortable around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Playing,” the demon hissed and he stuck his nose in between the angel’s collar and neck.

Aziraphale squirmed at the tickle, but reached up to loosen his collar for the demon. “I hope you were not doing anything too bad,” he said. 

“Just procuring usss sssome wine for later.”

Aziraphale smile and petted the back of the snake. “That does sound nice. We have not had drinks in ages.” The angel turned his attention back to the scroll. It was still too early to drink.

The snake snicker and settled himself next to the angel’s skin. Now he just had to wait.

Chapter Text

Holding the bottle of wine, Dean looked up at this brother.

Sam nodded and made a motion urging Dean on.

Drawing up his courage, Dean crossed the room to stand across the table from Aziraphale. “Hey, Az,” he said.

The angel looked up from his work, disapproval shown clearly on his face.

Dean cleared his throat. “Aziraphale,” he corrected.

The angel smiled at him. “Hello, Dean,” he said politely. “What can I do for you?”

The hunter shifted uncomfortable, but pressed on. “You’ve been working pretty hard on those scrolls and I was wondering,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and failed. “Maybe you would like to take a break for a bit?” 

Aziraphale cocked his head. His brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean glanced at his brother. 

Sam mimicked holding up a bottle and presenting it.

“I have wine,” Dean blurted out, holding up the bottle they had found in the cellar.

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled and he sat up fully. “That does sound lovely.” He put his quill down and scooted his chair away from the table. He cocked his head and gave Dean a considering look. “There’s a lovely couch in your war room, do you think we could relax out there for a while?”

Surprise made Dean stand taller. This idea might actually work. “Sure,” he said, turning to lead the way out.

***

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, providing proper seating, tables, and glasses for everyone. He stood up from his chair and flipped open the hamper Crowley had been sleeping in. “Come here you wily old fiend,” he whispered, pulling the snake out of his feathered nest. He held the snake up where he could look him in the eyes. “While I do appreciate the break,” he said with a hint of accusation in his voice. “I would like to know what you have tempted these nice boys into.”

“Nothing,” the snake hissed, curling himself around the angel’s fingers. “Was their own idea. I jussst helped.”

Aziraphale snorted softly in amusement before kissing the snake on the head and putting him down on the floor. “Come on then,” he said before starting out. “You will probably want to be humanish if we are having drinks.”

Crowley snickered as he shifted to his human form and followed Aziraphale out. This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

“So what’s the deal with the flannel?” Sam asked. He rubbed his hand over the tartan blanket hanging over the back of the couch. 

“It is tartan,” Aziraphale corrected from where he sat in his chair. 

“Ugh,” Crowley groaned and melted into his chair. “Not the bloody tartan.”

“Hush,” Aziraphale swatted at the demon. “Tartan is stylish.”

“It’s not stylish,” the demon snapped. “It’s bloody embarrassing.” His voice lowered to a mumbled, tugging on the collar of his jacket. “Parading me around Hell in tartan.” His voice came back up to a proper level. “You aren’t even properly Scottish.”

Aziraphale huffed into his wine. “I don’t have to be Scottish to have a tartan.” His hand patted the bow tie at his neck.

Crowley made a disgusted noise and looked away from his angel. He took a long pull of his wine.

The angel scrunched his nose up at the demon, but didn’t say anything.

“So what’s the deal with the tartan?” Sam asked again.

A smile brightened Aziraphale’s face and he turned his attention to Sam. “Do you know anything about tartans?”

Sam took a sip of his wine and shook his head.

Aziraphale wiggled in his chair in excitement. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Crowley muttered pointedly to Sam. 

The angel shot him a sharp look, but turned his attention back to Sam. “Tartans are patterned cloth used to show a person’s affiliation with a particular clan.” He stoked his bow tie again. “This is mine.”

“You don’t even have a proper clan,” Crowley growled. 

“You’re my clan,” Aziraphale snapped back.

Crowley shrunk in his chair and stared down into his glass of wine. 

Aziraphale huffed and looked away from the demon. “I’ve only been giving you my tartan since the 1960’s." He crossed his arms over his chest, irritated.

“You designed your own tartan?" Sam asked, trying to break the heavy atmosphere filling the room.

Aziraphale loosened up a little. “Well no,” he admitted, dropping his arms and toying with his wine glass. “Heaven actually sent me down with a tartan.” He fidgeted in his chair. “Part of the uniform.” He took a sip of his wine before continuing. “I didn’t like wearing it. So I… um... changed it.” 

Crowley turned and gave his angel a considering look. 

Dean cocked his head. “Why?”

“This wine is awful,” Crowley said, interrupting Aziraphale’s answer. He snapped his fingers and all of the glasses disappeared. “Let’s try something better.” He snapped again and several bottles popped into existence on the table. He reached for a bottle and pulled the cork. He poured four new glasses of golden wine and passed them out.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, taking the new glass.

“Apple wine,” Crowley said, settling back into his chair. 

Aziraphale perked up and looked over at the demon. “From your private stock?”

Crowley nodded. 

Dean sipped at the wine. It had the most amazing flavor. “What’s in this?” he asked, looking down at the wine. 

“Fear,” Crowley said with a smirk.

Aziraphale wiggled in his seat. “It is quite lovely.”

Sam picked up the bottle to look at the label. A ripe red apple sat on a background of Aziraphale’s tartan.

Chapter Text

Laughter rang out through the war room.

“No, listen,” Crowley said drunkenly. He stood with his hand on the back of Aziraphale’s chair and waved his wine glass around as he wobbled on his feet. “Was the funniest thing ever.”

Sam looked at him dubiously. “Wait,” the hunter said drunkenly. “Napoleon was attacked by rabbits?”

“Bunnies,” Crowley screeched in joy, raising his glass high in the air.

“Is true,” Aziraphale said, backing up Crowley’s claim. 

“Bunnies?” Dean asked.

“Bunnies,” Crowley said again. He wobbled as he pointed at the hunters with the glass. “Nearly three thousand of the vicious little beasties.” Crowley release this hold on the angel’s chair and raise his hand to his mouth. He held out two fingers like fangs. His hip bumped into the chair and he leaned on it to keep from falling over. “All come’n at him and his ministers.”

Aziraphale snickered. “One of your finest hours,” the angel said. He put his hand on Crowley’s side to make sure the demon didn’t fall over. 

“Oi,” Crowley huffed at the praise. He shifted out of the angel’s hold and dropped himself over the arm of the chair.

Aziraphale caught him and guided him down into his lap so he wouldn’t spill their wine.

“You were peeved when he decided hunt the rabbits,” Crowley pointed out.

Aziraphale huffed. “I was upset that they were going to kill all those rabbits,” he protested. “I like rabbits.”

“Not nearly as nice as ducks,” Crowley pointed out, oozing further down in Aziraphale’s lap. He turned his attention to Dean and pointed his wine glass at the hunter. “Did you know water slides off ducks?”

Dean kind of shook his head. 

“Yup!’ Crowley cried. “Just slides right off. They have stuff in their feathers.” He looked up at Aziraphale. “W'ot's it in their feathers? Not in our feather.”

“Oil,” the angel supplied.

“Right,” Crowley shouted. “Oily feathers are terrible. Mats them down. Impossible to get out. But… ummm…” he paused as his train of thought derailed. There may have been survivors, but they weren’t making themselves apparent. He looked up at Aziraphale. “What was I talking about?”

“Ducks,” Aziraphale supplies. 

“Oh right! Ducks!” Crowley looked over at Dean. “I like ducks.”

Chapter Text

An odd noise pulled Dean up out of the drunken haze. He cracked his eye to find he was stretched out on the couch in the war room. Nearly a dozen empty bottles scattered across the floor and low table. His head rang incessantly from Crowley’s wine. That stuff was amazing, but it packed a powerful punch. He fought with the desire to pull the tartan blanket over his head and go back to sleep, but something seemed wrong. 

That strange noise sounded again. 

Dean lifted his head so he could see past the table. A small creature waddled into his view. He stared at the thing, his brain too addled by wine and hangover to reason out its existence. He looked around and found Crowley sprawled in Aziraphale’s chair. The angel was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” Dean called in a gruff voice.

The noise was just enough to startle Crowley awake. The demon smacked his lips and looked at Dean with bleary eyes. 

Dean nodded towards the creature. He tried to say ‘what’s that’ but it came out all wrong.

Crowley must have gotten the idea because he turned and glanced at the creature. “ ’s a duck.” His head rolled into a more relaxed position as he answered. 

Dean cleared his throat and actually managed words. “What’s it doing?”

Crowley looked at the duck again. “Being a duck,” the demon answered. He laid his head back down. “I like ducks.”

Unable to cope with the duck or the duck-loving demon, Dean laid his head back down and pretended there wasn’t a duck in the bunker. He’d deal with it when the world stopped moving in funny ways.

Chapter Text

“Dean?”

Dean cracked an eye and looked up from the couch. He wasn’t drunk anymore, but he sure hated life right now. He groaned and sat up. “Hey Cas.”

Cas looked around at the empty bottles scattered all around the room. “Are you all right?” the angel asked. He picked up one of the bottles, looked at the apple on the label, then sniffed the empty container.

“Yeah,” Dean said roughly. He cleared his throat and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. It was warm and comfortable. “Hung over,” he mumbled.

Cas took in the scene one more time. Crowley was still sacked out on his chair, snoring with a soft hiss. “You were drinking with the Serpent?”

“And Aziraphale,” Dean added.

An inquisitive look crossed Cas’s face. “Why?”

Dean tried to open his eyes and look up at Cas, but it hurt too much. He kept his eyes closed and hung his head instead. “Why not?” he mumbled. “They’re good guys.”

Cas considered the state Dean was in. Reaching down, he put one hand on Dean’s forehead and one on the back of his head. He concentrated and pushed Dean’s hangover out of him. 

Dean gasped as the power flowed through him. He opened his eyes and looked up as Cas released him. Unsure how to react to not being in horrible pain, he ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth and smacked his lips. “Thanks,” he finally said. 

“You shouldn't drink so much,” Cas reprimanded. “Demon wine can be quite potent.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face as he pushed the blanket off his shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s really good.” He stood up and stretched. 

A reproachful look crossed Cas’s face. “Call me next time.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah,” he agreed. 

“So what did you learn?” Cas asked. 

Dean glanced at the sleeping demon and motioned for Cas to follow him. They had learned a lot of interesting things during their drinking session, but none of it was what they wanted to know. He also didn’t want the demon knowing they were trying to get information out of them. “Lots of stuff,” Dean answered. He grabbed Cas’s arm and pulled him into motion and away from Crowley. “Did you know geese mate for life, but ducks don’t?”

****

Crowley cracked open an eye and watched as Dean and Castiel wandered away. He didn’t have Aziraphale’s ability to feel love, but he’d spent over six thousand years learning what affection from an angel looked like. He would bet his snakeskin boots that Castiel loved Dean. He was also sure the hunter felt affection towards the angel. It was also obvious that they hadn’t come to terms with their love.

Snapping his fingers, he summoned the blanket Dean had been using. It smelled more like the hunter than his angel. Wrinkling his nose, Crowley fluffed it out and willed it to smell like Aziraphale again. Once he was happy with the scent, he curled up in the warm tartan and went back to sleep. His mind turned over the numerous ways he might be able to help the two realize their feelings. After all, Dean was human and didn’t have six thousand years for his angel to come around to admitting his feelings.

Chapter Text

Dean’s attention was pulled away from his movie when Crowley tapped him on the shoulder. Dean looked up to see what the demon wanted. 

“Watch this,” Crowley whispered. He stood up and crossed the room to where Aziraphale was hard at work on the third scroll. “Aziraphale,” he said loudly.

The angel looked up from his work. “Yes, Crowley?”

Crowley took the quill from the angel’s hand and dropped it next to his scroll. Grabbing the front of the angel’s coat, he hauled the angel to his feet. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said indignantly, but didn’t have time for any more protests.

The demon wrapped his arms around the angel, bent him over backwards, and kissed him soundly.

Dean stared at the pair in absolute shock. 

Once Aziraphale was properly breathless and off balance, Crowley hauled him up and sat him back on the chair. “Love you, Angel,” Crowley said. He ruffled the angel’s hair and sauntered back towards Dean.

Aziraphale just sat there in shock. 

Crowley winked at Dean. “And that’s how it’s done,” he mumbled just loud enough for Dean to hear. “But get your own angel. This one is mine.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open and he stared at the demon as he left. He turned around to find Aziraphale recovering. 

“Oh my,” the angel said. He ran his hand over his bow tie and down the front of his shirt. “I do think I need a cup of tea after that.” He looked up and meet Dean’s gaze. “Would you like some?”

Unable to think clearly, Dean nodded.

Aziraphale smiled and stood to go get the tea. 

Dean looked back to the doorway Crowley left by. What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

Something moved in the dark, pulling Sam from his sleep. He laid still, trying to make out what had woken him. A thin line of light shone through his bedroom door. He didn't remember leaving the door open.

Carefully, sam moved in bed. His foot hit something heavy on top of his coveres. 

It made am oddly familiar noise. 

Sam froze. He blinked, trying to see what the lump on his bed was. It was small. Had Crowley shifted to his snake form?

The noise sounded again. It was definitely not a sound snakes make.

Carefully, Sam reached up and turned his bedside lamp on. Light filled the room. Sam looked down at the thing on his covers and stared.

It was a duck. The light shimmered in it’s dark feathers. How had a duck gotten into the bunker? Could Crowley or Aziraphale turn into a waterfowl? If it was either of their guests, it was most likely Aziraphale since Crowley was a snake. It would make the most sense since the demon seemed to love ducks.

Sam relaxed to the bed and tried to work it out, but his tired mind wasn’t grasping the concept of a random bird in his bed. Giving up, he kicked at the duck. “Dude," he called. "Go find your own bed."

The duck quacked indignantly and fluttered from the bed. It continued to fuss in a duckish way as it waddled from the room. 

Sam rolled over and shut his eyes. He’d ask Aziraphale about it tomorrow. This was still not the weirdest thing he'd ever had to deal with.

Chapter Text

Dean sat on the couch next to Cas and held a cup of tea. He watched as Aziraphale and Castiel talked.

“I really am sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I simply can not join in your fight for Heaven.” He took a sip of his tea before going on. “Crowley and I cut ties with Heaven and Hell over thirty years ago. I am not sure if we can even get back into either side. Not after…” He paused looking for the right words. “After we accepted our new positions,” he finished. “We are Guardians of Earth. I do not think the Almighty would like us interfering in Heaven’s business.”

“God is gone,” Dean pointed out.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “She is never really gone,” he corrected. “She has a plan, it is just ineffable.”

“I see,” Cas said as he took in Aziraphale’s rejection. “That’s understandable.” He tucked his hands between his knees and leaned forward on the couch. He cocked his head in a curious fashion. “Could you tell me how you stopped the Apocalypse thirty years ago?”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, sitting up straighter. “That is a bit of an embarrassing story.”

Dean turned his head, curious to hear what Aziraphale would say.

Aziraphale set his cup on the table and rubbed his hands together as if he was washing them. “Well, you see,” he started. “We kind of… lost the Antichrist.”

“We didn’t lose the Antichrist,” Crowley said as he sauntered up and sat on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair. “Satanic nuns lost the Antichrist.” He turned his attention to Dean and Castiel. “They gave the baby to the wrong parents. Took us eleven years to hunt him down again.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “Right.” He looked up to Dean and Cas again. “And when we did find him, he had grown up to be a perfectly normal human child who did not want to end the world.”

“I wouldn’t call him normal,” Crowley said. “Anything with the power to rewrite creation isn’t normal.”

“Adam is a very normal young man,” Aziraphale corrected. “I do believe he and Dog are off doing their best to stop global warming.”

“He’s normal now,” Crowley fussed. “But he wasn’t normal then.”

“But he did stop the Apocalypse,” Aziraphale countered.

“But how?” Dean asked, interrupting the argument. 

The angel and demon turned from their banter and looked at Dean.

“Crowley gave Adam the opportunity to think for himself and choose what he really wanted to do,” Aziraphale said.

“And he,” Crowley nodded to Aziraphale, “made Heaven and Hell question the Great Plan enough so they had to regroup.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said with a blush. “You gave me a hand with that.”

Crowley smiled down at his angel. “I did.” Opening a box, he pulled out a piece of chocolate. “Cherry?” He offered it up to Aziraphale.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Aziraphale answered and went to take the cherry cordial out of Crowley’s hand. 

“Ah ah,” the demon said, holding the treat away from the angel’s fingers.  

Aziraphale gave him an irritated look. “Really?”

Crowley held the chocolate up towards Aziraphale’s face. “Really.” He gave the angel a cheeky smile. 

Aziraphale glanced at Dean and Cas on the couch. He rolled his eyes before leaning forwards and attempting to take the cherry cordial from Crowley’s hand. Crowley shifted just a little and the cordial popped when Aziraphale bit into it. Cherry juice and cream gushed out onto Crowley’s fingers.

Tipping his head back, Aziraphale slurped back as much of the chocolate and cordial as possible. “ Crowley ,” he gasped around the chocolate, trying to keep the juice from dribbling down his face. He licked his lips and chased the little dribble from his chin back into his mouth with his fingers. 

“You missed some, Angel,” Crowley said, holding out his sticky fingers. 

Aziraphale glared at him as he chewed up the cordial in his mouth. 

The grin on Crowley’s face grew wider, but he didn’t lower his hand. 

Finally, Aziraphale gave in and wrapped his lips around the demon’s fingers, sucking them clean. “Really?” he said as soon as the demon’s fingers were out of his mouth. He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief to clean up his face.

“Really,” Crowley said happily, rocking on the arm of the chair. He handed the rest of the box to Aziraphale. 

Both Dean and Cas sat on the couch watching. Dean’s eyes were wide and wandered about as if he didn’t know where to look.

“Oi,” Crowley called. 

Dean looked up at the demon.

“Catch.” Crowley threw something to Dean. “For yours.”

Instinct had Dean’s hands coming up to catch the projectile. He looked down to find another box of cherry cordials. When he looked back up, Crowley had stood up and was sauntering away.

“Ciao,” the demon said, waving over his shoulder. 

Dean looked back down at the box. The scene between the angel and the demon replayed in his head and he looked over at Cas. Did Crowley want him to feed Cas a cherry cordial? 

Cas was leaning over, looking at the box with interest.  

A blush rushed over Dean’s face as he imagined feeding Cas a chocolate. He could almost feel the angel’s mouth on his fingers. He pushed that thought away and shoved the box of chocolates towards Cas. “Here,” he snapped. As soon as the box was in Cas’s hands, he stood up. “I forgot something.” He beat a hasty retreat from the war room.

***

Aziraphale watched Dean storm away as he picked out a second chocolate. “What has gotten into him?”

Cas shrugged and opened his box of cherries. “He does that sometimes.”

Aziraphale chewed his chocolate as he watched Dean leave. It was faint but there were definitely waves of love coming off him. He looked back over to Castiel. “I think you should keep that one close.”

Cas looked up from his snack. “I plan on it.”

Aziraphale smiled and bit into another cherry.

Chapter Text

Sam ran his hand through his hair as he walked into the war room. He held his coffee close, trying to rid himself of the remainders of his hangover. Crowley’s wine had been amazing, but it hit Sam a lot harder than he had expected. 

“Hello, Moose.”

Sam looked up to see the King of Hell sitting on the couch.The hunter let out an exhausted sigh and let his shoulders drop a fraction. “Hello, Crowley,” he said as he walked towards the seating area Aziraphale had conjured. “What do you want?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase. 

“What do you want with the Serpent of Eden?” Crowley asked. 

The question made Sam stop and blink. “We don’t want anything from the Serpent of Eden.”

“That’s strange,” Crowley said, standing up from the couch to face the hunter. “Because just a few days ago, you were asking a bunch of questions about him and his angel.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he just waited for the King of Hell to go on.

“In fact, you mentioned the angel by name,” Crowley pointed out.

“Aziraphale?” Sam asked. “What of it?”

Crowley wiggled his finger at Sam. “I never mentioned the angel’s name.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Cas gave it to us.”

The King of Hell tutted and shoved his hands in his pocket. “And there’s where you’ve gone wrong,” he said with a sharp grin. “All of my sources have the angel being named Aziraphael, but I happen to know that name is wrong. And it didn’t occur to me until later that you named him correctly. So I had my people in London check.” Crowley gave him a pointed look. “He’s gone.”

Sam breathed very slowly trying to think of some explanation. He glanced into the library, but Aziraphale was not in his usual place. He looked back at Crowley. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone,” Crowley repeated. “As in not there.”

“Maybe they missed him,” Sam tried. He took a sip of his coffee trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

Crowley let out a bark of laughter. “Not likely,” the King of Hell answered. “The only time that paper angel strays far from his bookshop is when the Serpent drags him off to a cottage in the South Downs. I’ve had both places checked. We’ve seen the Serpent, but there’s been no sign of the angel.”

Sam worried his lip thinking. He really didn’t want to tell Crowley about needing Aziraphale’s help in translating the scrolls they’d found. So telling the King of Hell the angel was here didn’t seem like a good idea. Excuses raced through Sam’s mind and one caught.   “Maybe he’s holed up in his bookshop?” Aziraphale seemed like the kind of person that could get lost in his work for weeks on end. 

Crowley sneered and shook his head. “Not likely,” he countered. “The angel’s a true hedonist. Loves his nibbles. There’s no way he’d be holed up in that shop for a whole week without getting peckish.” He gave Sam a pointed look. “And then there is this.” He held his hand out and turned towards the comfortable sofa and chairs. “A little too cozy for you lot.” He moved around to the chair where the tartan blanket was thrown. “And this,” he said, picking up the blanket. “I’m Scottish and I know a tartan when I see it.” He held the damning evidence up between them. “And I know, for a fact, this is the Serpent's tartan. I've seen it on him in Hell. He forces the angel to wear it to should his ownership.” Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done with the Angel of Soho?”

Sam was caught. There was no way he was going to lie his way out of this one. He let out a defeated sigh and admitted the truth. “All right,” he said. “He’s here.”

Crowley gripped the blanket tightly, but dropped it down in front of him. He took a menacing step towards Sam. “What the Hell are you doing with the Serpent's pet angel?”

“We needed his help with a project,” Sam admitted. 

Something close to fear crossed Crowley’s face. “Send him back.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. There were few things that could actually scare the King of Hell. “Why?”

“Don’t you get it,” Crowley snapped. “If anything happens to that angel, the Serpent is going to flip.”

Sam didn’t understand why the King of Hell was afraid of a single demon. He hadn’t seen serpent Crowley do anything warranting that level of fear. Maybe the bit with Hellfire, but wasn’t that a normal demon thing? “So?” he asked.

“ So ,” Crowley shrieked. His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “I have seen the Serpent do things that demons can’t. Holy water doesn’t touch him. Hellfire doesn’t burn him. He’s discorporated countless demons. He has killed others. He’s responsible for some of the worst atrocities on Earth. He stood up to Satan himself and survived.  Hell, he has his own angel on a string. He has an imagination like no demon I know and power to back it up. And you go and run off with his angel ! How daft can you be!” Crowley huffed in several breaths, trying to calm down. “Put him back before the Serpent finds out you’ve trapped him. Hell will not help you if you piss him off.”

“Is everything all right out here?”

Crowley froze. Terror washed over his face and he turned towards the voice.

Sam turned to find Aziraphale standing at the top of the step of the library with his pen in hand.

“He’s here,” Crowley whispered, his face had gone a few shades lighter than his normal complexion. “He’s loose.” He turned back to Sam. “You shouldn’t have him here. Send him back.”

Sam patted the air, trying to calm Crowley. “It’s all right. We made a deal with Crowley.”

Crowley nearly hit the ceiling. “You did what!”

“It’s okay,” Sam said. He smiled at the angel. “It’s all right, Aziraphale. You can put your pen away. He’s a friend.”

Aziraphale turned his head and gave Sam a pointed look. He recapped his pen but didn’t put it away. “You realize he’s a demon.”

Sam nodded his head. “Yes.” He gestured to Crowley. “Aziraphale, this is Crowley, King of Hell.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale exclaimed. He smiled brightly and came down the steps. “So you are the demon that took Crowley’s name.”

Sam waved his hand towards the angel coming over. “This is the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.”

“How do you do?” Aziraphale asked politely and offered his free hand.

“Peachy,” Crowley answered but shook the offered hand.

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said warmly. “It is not often I get to meet demons,” he mused. “They tend to avoid Crowley and I.” 

“I wonder why,” Crowley snipped. 

Aziraphale smiled. He held his hand out towards the blanket in Crowley’s hand. “May I?”

Crowley gave it up.

Taking the blanket, Aziraphale folded it neatly. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”  He laid the cloth over the back of the armchair.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and watched the King of Hell shuffle uncomfortable before speaking. “I came to make this lug send you home.”

Aziraphale cocked his head in confusion. “Send me home?”

“He thought we kidnapped you,” Sam added.

The King of Hell shot the hunter a harsh look. 

“Oh dear me,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I do believe there has been some misunderstanding. The Winchesters did not kidnap me. I am working for them.”

“Working for them?” Crowley said, flabbergasted.

“Yes,” the angel chimed happily. “They have some documents that need transcribing. I am here because Crowley made a Deal with them to gain my help.”

Crowley’s eyes got bigger. “You’re here to honor a Deal the Serpent made.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said with a nod.

“And the Serpent knows you’re here?” Crowley asked,

Aziraphale nodded again. “Yes. In fact, Crowley was still asleep when I came out, but he should be up shortly.”

The King of Hell stood up taller. “The Serpent is here!”

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. 

Crowley turned his attention to Sam. “Don’t turn to me when all of this goes sideways," he snarled. He shot one last look at Aziraphale and disappeared. 

“Well isn’t he a pleasant fellow,” Aziraphale snarked. 

Sam smiled into his coffee cup. “You have no idea.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I probably do,” he said, good humored. “I am, after all, married to a demon.”

Sam shook his head and started towards the stairs leading to the library. “So tell me, is Crowley as bad as the King of Hell claims?”

Aziraphale smiled warmly as he joined Sam. “Probably not,” the angel admitted. “Crowley likes to build himself up to look more diabolical than he is. But, what demon does not? If you want to hear about some of his commendations, you will have to ask him. I tried to stay away from them as much as possible. It does not look good for an angel to get involved with doing the wrong things.”

Sam considered this for a moment. “Makes sense.” He still wanted to know if Crowley was really responsible for the Spanish Inquisition and World War II. 

“Now,” Aziraphale said. “If you will excuse me, I should probably get back to work. These scrolls will not translated themselves.” He turned and went to his chair.

Nodding, Sam let the angel go and went to start up his computer. He might as well jump into some research on what he wanted to ask Crowley when he woke up.

Chapter Text

Crowley pulled his attention away from his phone and leaned against Aziraphale's back. "Ya think they're going to ask?"

"Most likely," the angel answered without looking up from his work. "The King of Hell mentioned it. I do not think the Winchester brothers will be able to leave it alone."

"Ngk," Crowley said, turning his attention back to his phone.

After a few moments,  Aziraphale spoke again. "Fancy a friendly wager?"

Pulling his eyes from his phone, Crowley twisted in his seat to look at Aziraphale's back. "What bet?"

Aziraphale pulled himself out of his work and turned the opposite way so they were sitting side by side in the altered chair, but facing in opposite directions.  "I believe Sam will be the first to ask. He seemed very intrigued by the subject when Crowley mentioned it. He even said something to me. Of course I told him to ask you."

Crowley considered this for a moment. "It's gonna be Dean that asks," Crowley said. "I can already feel his curiosity burning and he's just rude enough to do it."

"Then do we have a deal?" Aziraphale asked with a mischievous smile and an enticing raise of an eyebrow.

Crowley grinned. "Standard stakes?"

Aziraphale gave him a matching grin. "Duration?"

The demon considered this for a moment. "They ask about something I've actually done, one week. They ask about a commendation I got for something I didn't do, two weeks."

"Done," Aziraphale said, happily.  He leaned over and sealed their bet with a kiss. "Oh I am going to enjoy this." He turn back around in his seat to face the table. "I saw Sam doing research on the Spanish Inquisition."

"Ngk," Crowley groaned as he turned back around and leaned against Aziraphale's back again. "I hated the fourteenth century. "

Chapter Text

Standing in the doorway to the war room, Sam stared at the duck sitting in the middle of the table. He leaned over towards his brother and spoke softly as to not scare the creature.  "Why is there a duck on the table?"

Dean stood next to him with the same confused expression on his face. "I was going to ask you that."

The brothers went back to staring at the creature.

"Do you think it could be Aziraphale?" Sam reasoned.

Dean's face wrinkled up in a look of disbelief and disgust.  "What the hell, Sammy?" He asked sharply.

"I don't know," Sam said defensively. "Crowley can turn into a snake. It would make sense that Aziraphale could turn into something too."

Dean turned this explanation over in his mind as he considered the waterfowl. "A duck?" He asked incredulously. 

"Crowley likes ducks," Sam pointed out.

Dean consider the possibility more. He moved along the wall so as not to scare the bird. When he got to the library,  he looked up. The angel was sitting in his normal place deep in concentration. Dean turned back to his brother. "It's not Aziraphale."

Crowley appeared in the doorway behind Sam. "What's not Aziraphale?" he asked, startling the younger brother. 

Sam yelled in surprise and jumped away from the demon.

The duck quacked in an upset way. It fluttered its wings, but didn't move from the table.

Dean came back over to stand with Sam and the demon. "The duck."

Crowley's eyebrows jumped up above his glasses and amusement covered his face. "W'ot?" he said in a loud voice. He looked up at the duck chilling on the table. He turned his shocked expression back to the brothers. "You think Aziraphale would choose to be a duck?"

"It would make sense," Sam defended. "You can turn into a snake."

Crowley laughed. "That's cause I'm the Serpent of Eden. I'm naturally a snake. Aziraphale can miracle himself into many things, but they always reflect his divinity." He pointed at the duck with a jerk of his chin. "Does that look divine to you?"

Sam and Dean both looked at the duck. It was the mottled brown of an indiscript female waterfowl. There was nothing very divine about it.

"Not really," Dean admitted. 

"Then it's not Aziraphale," Crowly pushed past the boys, conjured up some duck food, tossed it up on the table, and turned to go into the library.

The brothers watched as the duck scrambled to gobble up the small pellets.

"We have a random duck in the bunker," Sam said.

Dean gave his brother another look. "How do you feel about duck for dinner?"

A smile turned up the corner of Sam's mouth as he considered the idea. It dropped a moment later. "Better not," he said. "Crowley likes ducks. I don't think he would like us killing it."

Dean let out a sigh. "Come on, let's go get something to catch it in."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.  "I don't want to wake up with it in my bed again."

Dean gave him a confused look. "It was in your bed?"

"Woke up with it snuggled up next to my feet," Sam admitted.

Dean snorts in amusement. "And you thought it was Aziraphale. Like he'd cuddle up with you." The older brother turned to see about getting something to catch the bird in.

Sam shook his head and followed his brother. He should have known the duck wasn't Aziraphale. There was no way the angel would sleep in the same bed with anyone but his demon husband.

Chapter Text

Dean stood in the war room with his arms crossed over his chest. He cocked his hip and studied Crowley sprawled on the couch. The demon was busy on his phone and didn't seem to notice the hunter.

Unable to contain his curiosity anymore, Dean dropped his arms and came over to the demon. "Can I ask you something?"

Crowley looked up from his phone. "Sure."

"Did you actually kill another demon?" he asked. Dean and Sam had killed plenty of demons, but it was unusual for demons to actually kill their own kind.

Crowley let out a bark of laughter. "You loose, Angel," he called loudly. "One week!"

"Oh bugger," came Aziraphale's reply. 

Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the exchange.  He stared down at the demon as a satisfied smirk slid across Crowley's face.

"Thank you," the demon said. The smile dropped away and Crowley looked over his glasses. A more serious look took up residence on his face. "While I've discorporated more than a few, I've only ever killed one and that was in self defense," Crowley said. "Kill'n really isn't my thing."

Dean considered this for a moment. "What about the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Ha," Crowley barked out and turned his eyes back to his phone and started tapping at his game again. "Slept right through it. One of the many reasons I hate the fourteenth century. Got a commendation anyway and didn't even raise a finger. That one's on humanity."

Chapter Text

The figure that walked by pulled Dean's attention up from his papers. The cream coat, tan waistcoat,  and tartan tie were all familiar but the form they were wrapped around was not. Unable to process what he was seeing, he nudged his brother with his foot.

Sam looked up from his computer. A question in his eyes.

Dean nodded at the angel.

Same turned and drew in a sharp breath. "Aziraphale?"

The angel turned and looked at the brothers.  "Yes?" His voice was slightly higher and softer than normal.

The creature that stood in front of the brothers was no longer a mildly pudgy Englishman with curly white hair. It's weight had been redistributed into a voluptuously curvy woman. Aziraphale's short, white curls had grown out to his waist and hung in messy ringlets down his back.

Dean just stared in shock while Sam answered with a question of his own. "What happened?"

The angel smiled at them. "I lost a bet." She turned and headed to her normal seat. 

Both of the hunters started in shock. Aziraphale had been handsome as a man, but she was absolutely angelic as a woman.

"There you are," Crowley cried as he came in from the back. "Thought you wanted me to help you with your hair."

"I do," Aziraphale protested. She turned to look at the demon. "You took so long, I thought you forgot."

The demon came over and draped himself over the angel. "I'd never forget about you." He gave the angel a quick kiss. "Now let's see about your hair." He stood up, straightened Aziraphale in her chair and proceeded to attack the angel's curls with a brush.

"Gently, my dear," Aziraphale protested,  but didn't move. 

Crowley's movement softened but he continued whipping the hair into shape.  Once he'd gotten the curls tamed, he wove them into an elegant french braid. "There," he said, trying the end off with a tartan scrunchie. "All done." He placed a kiss on top of the angel's head. He slipped his arms over the angel's shoulders and leaned against her back. "I am disappointed about this." He tugged on the jacket.

Aziraphale huffed. "I like my clothes just the way they are."

Crowley smirked. "Of course you do." He kissed the angel's cheek one more time before standing up and heading out the front past the brothers.

"This angel's mine," he said to the gaping hunters as he passed their table. "Get your own."

Both Sam and Dean ripped their eyes away from Aziraphale and tried to get their shorted out brains to focus back on what they were doing.

Chapter Text

"I am done," Aziraphale said. She blew on the damp ink as she set his quill down. Once it was dry, she closed the book and held it over her shoulder for Crowley to take.

Both Sam and Den perked up at the angel's word.

Crowley sat up from where he was slouched on the back half of Aziraphale's altered chair, put his phone away, and took the book from the Angel's hand. He brought is down and flipped it open. A fond smile slid across his face as he read. "Haven't seen this in years."

"I knew you would like it," Aziraphale said as she rolled up the scroll.

"What is it?" Sam asked as he stood up from his chair.

Crowley closed the book with a snap and help it up. "Can the scroll be used as a weapon?" he asked, shortening the usually question.

"No," Aziraphale said without looking up.

"Is the content dangerous?" the demon asked.

"Far from it," the angel answered with the same fond smile Crowley had been sporting.

Crowley held the book up higher and the eager hunter took the tomb from the demon's hand.

Sam flipped it open and started reading.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked from where he was partially standing up from his chair.

Sam read over the passage. "Games?" he asked, reading the instructions again.

Aziraphale nodded. "Detailed instructions for children's game from the Byzantine empire and Mesopotamia." She held the scroll over her shoulder for the demon to take.

"Does this translate meet your approval?" Crowley asked, holding the golden scroll up for the hunters to see.

Sammy nodded his head as he headed back to his chair. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly.

"Good," the demon said. He clicked his fingers and the scroll disappeared. 

"What are you going to do with those?" Dean asked. He still couldn't understand why the demon wanted angelic scrolls. 

Crowley looked at the hunter over his glasses. "Going to add them to Angel's collection."

Aziraphale wiggled in joy. "I do have an impressive collection of scrolls in my shop, but these will be the first written entirely in Enoch."

"Care for a spot of lunch, Angel?" Crowley asked. "I hear there is an American steak house by the name of Ruth's Chris we could try."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," the angel answered.

Dean barked out a laugh and sat back down. "Gonna need a reservation for that one."

Both Aziraphale and Crowley shot Dean smug looks. Crowley snapped his fingers. "Done," he said as he stood up. "Come on, Angel. Our table will be ready in about thirty minutes."

"How are we getting there?" Aziraphale asked, standing up from the table. "The Bentley is still in London."

Crowley looked over at Dean.

"You are not taking my baby," Dean growled.

Crowley huffed and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale. "I guess we'll go the old fashion way."

"You know I can fly myself," Aziraphale said as she wrapped her arm around Crowley's neck.

"Isn't as much fun," the demon answered. With the sound of fluttering wings, they were gone.

Dean shook his head and turned back to his paper. "Those two are weird."

"Still not the weirdest thing we've seen," Sam added as he turned the page in his new book.

Chapter Text

“Would you care for a scone?” Aziraphale asked as she carried out a large tray and set it down on the far end of the table Sam was working on. 

Sam looked up from his book and considered the angel. She had put together a full tea service, complete with a plate of tasty looking scones, clotted cream, and marmalade. It looked delicious. “Yes, please,” the hunter said as he pushed away from his work. He moved over a chair.

Aziraphale laid out a cup of tea and a scone for the younger brother. “What are you working on?” she asked as she poured herself a cup of tea and sat in the chair across from him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Sam slouched in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m looking for information on ancient Egyptian curses,” Sam admitted. “My brother hasn’t said anything yet, but I’m pretty sure Dean activated the curse on that carouche I was trying to translate.”

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said. “I do believe that was a pretty nasty affliction. And the dear boy has said nothing.”

Sam grinned. “It’s not something he'd admit to.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said in an understanding tone. “Well, we can not have him suffering from a curse.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head as if she was listening to something very soft. She hummed a  positive note. “Yes, he does seem to be affected by a curse.” Aziraphale opened her eyes and snapped her fingers. “There,” she said. “All fixed.”

Sam stared at her in surprise. “Just like that?”

The angel smiled at him and picked up her tea. “Well, I am an Egyptian goddess and it was an Egyptian curse.” She took a long sip. “But if you’re still interested in learning about ancient Egyptian curses, I have a few scrolls back in my bookshop.”

“You own a bookstore?” Sam asked. He recalled King of Hell Crowley mentioning something about a store.

"No,” Aziraphale corrected. “I own a bookshop, not a store.”

Sam cocked his head in confusion. “There’s a difference?”

“Oh yes,” the angel said with a smile. “A store is where you go to buy things, a shop is where you go to shop.”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t understand the difference. 

The angel’s smile widened. “There is a reason they call it window shopping .”

Enlightenment dawned on Sam. “You don’t sell your books.”

“Only when I absolutely must, but always to a good home,” the angel admitted. “And never any of my personal collection.”

“What do you collect?” Sam asked. 

“A little of everything,” Aziraphale admitted. “Although I do have an impressive collection of misprinted bibles, books on prophecy, books on lore, and signed first edition literary texts.”

“Books on lore?” Sam asked intrigued. “Do you have anything on supernatural creatures?”

“But of course,” the angel said proudly. “I have two whole sections at the shop of normal books and an additional six shelves of more dangerous items at the Cottage.”

Sam sat up in his chair. “Can I see them?” he asked hopefully. There was no telling what treasures Aziraphale had stored away in her collection.

Aziraphale tipped her head over in consideration. “As long as you promise to be careful with them, I do not see why not,” she said. “I can take you to see them once I have finished the scrolls.”

“See what?” Crowley asked as he strolled into the library. He made his way over to Aziraphale and gave her a kiss on the temple.

“Sam would like to see my books on supernatural creatures,” the angel said. “I told him I could take him once I was done with the scrolls.”

Crowley gave the younger brother a considering look. “If you like, I could take him now.”

Sam’s heart jumped in excitement.

Aziraphale looked up. “Could you?”

The demon shrugged. “Sure. It’s Thursday. Got to head home to yell at my plants. I don’t mind taking a passenger.”

“Could you help him find what he needs?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley gave her a pointed look. “I know your books almost as well as you do,” he admitted. “And don’t worry I’ll make sure he treats em right.”

“Of course you will, my dear,” the angel said with a smile. She turned her gaze to Sam. “What do you say to a trip to the other side of the world with a demon?”

Sam looked at the smiling demon. He couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but he was sure there was a hint of mischief in the parts of the face he could see. But, the temptation of old books was greater than his fear of the demon. “I would love to,” he admitted, accepting the offer. 

Crowley’s smile widened. “Finish your nibbles and we’ll get going.”

Chapter Text

The bricks in the wall of the ally way were rough and dug into Sam’s back, but it was just the sensation the hunter needed to ground himself. He leaned against it heavily and waited to recover. He’d traveled by ‘Angel Air’, as Dean called it, with Cas, but this trip had been so much worse.

“Gonna hurl?” the demon asked as he stood smugly in front of the hunter.

“Maybe,” Sam answered as he held his stomach.  He leaned his head back against the cold stone.

“I’m glad we didn’t landed in the shop,” Crowley sassed. “Aziraphale would kill us both if you ralphed on his books.” The demon chuckled and patted the hunter on the arm. “Come on,” he said turning away from Sam. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. ” The snark on the end of that sentence was palpable. 

Sam snorted in amusement and pushed up from the wall. He turned and followed the demon out into the street. He stopped as soon as his eyes fell on corner shop.  The sign A.Z. Fell & Co Antiquarium and Unusual Books drew Sam’s attention. His eyes ran over the outside of the building. It was the kind of unassuming place that kicked his hunter’s instincts into high gear. It definitely had a supernatural vibe that called to him. 

As he crossed the street behind the demon, his eyes were drawn by the antique Bentley pulled up on the curb. There was a scattering of parking tickets on the windshield. “Is this yours?” Sam asked as he got sidetracked by the car. He walked towards the glossy body and peeked inside.

“Yup,” Crowley said coming over to rub the hood lovingly. “One owner and not a scratch,” he paused. “Well, except that one time she caught fire driving over the M25, but that was a special case and Adam set it right.”

“Dean would love this,” Sam said, as he held up his hand to block the sun reflecting on the window and studied the pristine interior. 

Crowley beamed as he caressed his baby. “Well, come on,” he said. He gave the car one last pat before snapping his fingers and burning the tickets on the windscreen. He turned back to the shop and unlocked the door with an actual key.

Reluctantly, Sam moved away from the car and headed to the door the demon pushed open. A bell jangles at the door swung wide. More awe filled Sam as he stepped inside. The shop was much larger than he had been prepared for. He stared at the rows and rows of books. Breathing deep, he took in the musty smell of old paper and ink. It was amazing. The sound of the lock clicking home pulled Sam out of his wonder. He turned to find Crowley checking to make sure the sign was properly set, before coming into the shop fully.

“Here,” Crowley said, taking out a pair of white gloves. “Put them on before you touch any of the books.” He flung the gloves at Sam as he passed. “Put the books back exactly where you got. And for Manchester’s sake, don’t crack the spines or bend the pages. Heaven and Hell can’t save you if you damage Aziraphale’s book.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he slipped the cotton gloves on.

“Go on. Look around.” Crowley waved Sam towards the books. “I’ve got stuff to do. The lore books are on the second floor right hand side. There is a table and chair if you need it. Holler when you can’t find somefin.” With that, the demon disappeared into the shelves.

Sam drew in a deep calming breath before turning and looking at the stacks of books. Spying to spiral staircase to the second floor, Sam headed that way. With two whole sections of books to look through, he didn’t have time to waste.

Chapter Text

“Are there any books on curses?” Sam called loudly. He knew Crowley was close by. The demon has been wandering the shop with a spray bottle terrifying the plants scattered among the shelves. 

“What kind of curses?” Crowley asked as he sauntered into view. He walked between the shelves and tipped books forwards out of place as he spoke. “Drurish curses? Fey curses? Vampire curses? Native American curse? Asian curses? African curses?”

“Euoperian course?” Sam asked.

“Looking for grimoires,” Crowley said. He snapped his fingers and the books righted themselves. “Aziraphale doesn’t keep those here. Too dangerous. If you’re up for a ride, I can take ya down to the Cottage and show you them.”

“You would do that?” Sam asked in disbelief. 

“Sure,” Crowley said with a half shrug. “Angel said to show you his books and who am I to stop a human from getting their hands on dangerous knowledge.” He shot Sam a toothy grin. “Causing trouble is in my job description.”

Sam got really still as he considered Crowley’s offer. It was often easy to forget the man was a demon, but the look on his face now drove the point home. Sam closed up the book in his hand and slipped it back on the shelf. His desire to see Airaphale’s grimoires outweighed Sam’s trepidation. “Okay,” he said, turning to face the demon. “Let’s go.” 

“Great,” the demon barked and turned on his heels. “There’s a certain fern I need to check on anyway.”

Chapter Text

Trimbles ran the length of Sam’s body as he laid on the couch recovering. That trip had been so much worse than he’d imagined, but somehow he had survived.

“Here you go, my dear,” Aziraphale said as she pressed a snifter of brandy into the shaken man’s hands.

Sam gladly took it and chugged the strong liquor.

“Is he going to be okay?” Dean asked as he stood behind the couch and looked over his brother.

“Of course,” the angel said as she shifted back and sat in one of the armchairs. “Crowley would never do anything to hurt him.”

“Never do anything to hurt me?” Sam cried incredulously. “That man’s a manica!” He sat up and turned to look at his brother. “So the flight over was so much worse than Angel Air?”

“Angel Air?” Crowley mocked.

“It’s what we call it when Cas transports us places,” Dean explained.

Crowley snorted in amusement. “Well,  I’m not an angel.”

“So, Demon Air,” Dean corrects.

“Don’t fly Demon Air,” Sam adds.

The demon gives out an amused chuckle and sat on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair with his arms crossed. “Like you really expected a smooth ride from a demon.”

“Do behave,” Aziraphale said as she rested her hand on Crowley’s leg and stroked it. 

The demons settled down. He uncrossed his arms and stretched his hand out to slip his fingers into the hair at the back of Aziraphale’s head. 

“It wasn’t just the flight that was bad,” Sam admitted. “I didn’t think we were going to survive the drive to the Cottage.” He glared at the demon. “He decided I needed to see the town first and we nearly died in London traffic.”

“How many times have I told you not to do ninety through downtown London,” Aziraphale reprimanded.

Crowley made a dismissive noise.

“And a hundred and twenty on the freeway,” Sam complained. “With Queen blasting at full volume!”

Aziraphale sat up straighter in her chair. “Only a hundred and twenty?” she said, surprised. “He was taking it easy on you,” she admitted. “He usually hits two hundred when traffic is light.”

“I hadn’t driven the Bentley in a while and I wanted to enjoy myself,” Crowley groused.

 The angel petted Crowley’s leg again. “I know, my dear.”

Sam looked up at his brother. “I will never complain about your driving or music again.”

“Oi,” Crowley said crossly.

“Did you find what you need?” Aziraphale prompted, cutting off the demon’s complaint.

Sam turned his attention to the angel. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Your bookshop is amazing. I could spend weeks in there.”

Aziraphale wiggled in pleasure at the complement. “Thank you.”

“And thank you for letting me bring these back,” Sam said, looking at the stack of books. They had called to ask if Sam could borrow a few books after they had gotten to the Cottage and it became apparent the hunter wasn't going to be able to concentrate on reading.

“You may study them for as long as I am here,” Aziraphale said. “When I do back, they go back.” She smiled at Sam. “But, if you would like more time with my books, I am sure something can be arranged.”

“I would like that,” Sam answered.

“We will talk about it later,” the angel said as she got up. “Right now I should get back to work.” She turned and moved so she was in front of Crowley. “Thank you, my dear.” She gave him a warm kiss. “I appreciate it.”

“Twas n’thin,” Crowley said as Aziraphale stepped away. “I’ll take my payment out of you later.” He swung his hand down and swatted the angel on the behind.

Aziraphale let out a startled gasp and hopped from the unexpected swat. “Wiley Old Serpent,” she snapped, but there was too much love in her voice for the name to be much of an insult. The angel chuckled as she headed back into the library to work on her scrolls.

“Be careful with my Angel’s books,” Crowley growled at Sam before getting up and sauntering off.

Sam and Dean stayed there for a long moment in silence before Sam spoke up again. “You would really have liked his Bentley.”

Chapter Text

“Angel,” Crowly called as he rushed into the library. “It’s time!’ The joy and excitement in his voice drew everyone’s attention.

Aziraphale perked up from where she was working on the next scroll. “Is it really?” She put her quill down, got up from the chair, and rushed towards the demon.

“Started pipping this morning,” the demon said excitedly. “Knew you wouldn’t want to miss it, so I brought them here.”

“Oh dear,” the angel said in a worried tone. “You don’t think the trip was too much for them?” She pushed past Crowley and down into the war room.

“Na,” Crowley answered. “Made sure their tank was properly warm as I transported them.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other in surprise. Not sure what the excitement was, they both stood up and followed the angel and demon down into the war room. 

Aziraphale has taken off her coat, folded it over the chair, and climbed up on top of the table in the war room. She sat next to a large tank lit by a heating lamp. “Aren’t they just darling.”

Cocking his head to see around the demon, Sam studied the tank. “Are those… eggs?”

“Yup!” Crowley said proudly. “We’re going to be fathers!”

Sam and Dean stopped and stared at the demon.

“Fathers?” Dean asked.

Crowley tucked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heel in a proud way. “Yup!”

“Oh, I can’t wait to meet the little dears,” Aziraphale cooed as she reached into the tank and stroked the opening egg. “Hello there.”

Sam stared at the tank for a long minute before turning to Crowley. “Snake eggs. You… Aaa… laid..”

“What other type of eggs would I be hatching?” Crowley sassed. 

Sam’s mouth snapped shut. Of course the Serpent of Eden would lay eggs.

“They’re yours?” Dean asked unsure how he felt about demons laying eggs.

“Yup,” Crowley confirmed. "All mine." He paused. "Well, and hers, obviously."

“Crowley dear,” Aziraphale called from her seat on the table. “Bring me a blade to cut them. I don’t want our sweet babies hurting themselves trying to get out of their shells.”

“Coming, Angel,” Crowley called as he turned away from the hunters.

Sam and Dean stood there and stared at each other. Their eyes wide with shock. Crowley and Aziraphale were having babies? In their bunker? 

“I have got to see this,” Dean said, moving towards the table where the angel and Demon were fussing over the eggs.

Sam silently followed his brother to see what hatched. Could the world handle half angel, half demon snake babies?

Chapter Text

Sam stared down into the bin of black and white speckled baby snake demons. There were nearly thirty of the creatures writhing in the box.

“Aren’t they adorable,” Aziraphale gushed for probably the millionth time. It had taken some time, but all of the eggs had hatched successfully. All of the little snakes were now safely cleaned and laid together. She reached her hand down into the box to touch them.

One of the little snakes curled back and hissed at Aziraphale’s hand. It struck at her, but its teeth were too small to hurt the angel.

“So feisty,” the angel said as she wiggled her finger at the attacking snake. She looked up at the demon and wrinkled her nose cutely. “Just like you.”

“Oi,” Crowley said, reaching in to catch the attacking snake gently. He lifted it up and looked at it square in the eyes. “You be nice to your daddy or you’ll have mum to deal with.” 

Aziraphale giggled. “I think you have that backwards. I am mum right now.”

The small snake curled around Crowley’s fingers, properly admonished. “I’d like to see you lay this many eggs,” he teased his friend. He gently handed the soothed baby to the angel.

She took it and cuddled it against her chest, stroking its tiny coils.. “You are right. I would be rubbish laying eggs.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Sam asked. He had no idea how the pair were going to raise two dozen demon babies.

“Going to sell the hellions to the highest bidder,” Crowley answered with a toothy grin. 

“We will not,” Aziraphale countered cuddling the snake. “In a few days, when they are ready, we will contact the London Herpetologist Society to move them to their new homes.”

"What?" Dean asked, shocked. "You're going to give them away."

Aziraphale made a positive noise. "We can not possibly keep them," she said as she leaned forward and placed the snake back in the tub with the rest. "Besides, one snake is enough for me." She turned a fond smile towards Crowley. 

Horror washed through both of the hunters. They were about to release a bunch of demon babies on the world.

"You can't do that," Sam gasped.

"Why not?" Aziraphale asked. "The London Herpetologist Society has always found good homes for our little ones."

Terror raced up Dean's spine. "Wait," he said, trying to get his mind in order. "How many babies have you had?"

Aziraphale gave Crowley a confused look. "Perhaps forty five to fifty clutches with an average of twenty eggs each." She turned her attention back to Dean. "So, nearly a thousand over the last twenty years."

"You've had nearly a thousand demon babies?" Sam gasped. This was worse than they thought.

A shocked look crossed Aziraphale's face. "Demon babies?"

Unable to hold in his laughter anymore, Crowley cackled. 

Aziraphale gave the demon a stern look as he bent over and grabbed the table to keep from laughing himself to the floor.

"What has Crowley told you?" the angle snipped.

"He said that you were going to be fathers," Sam answered. "That these were your eggs."

An exasperated look crossed Aziraphale's face and she rolled her eyes. "Good Lord," she groaned before focusing on Sam again. "These are not our, " she waved her hand back and forth between her and the laughing demon, "eggs. These eggs belong to Anathema's bull snake, Reggie. Everytime she clutches, we take the eggs and see that they are properly hatched."

"So you're not releasing demon snabies on the world?" Dean asked looking at the innocent snakes.

"Demon snabies?" Aziraphale asked.

"Demon snake babies," Dean clarified. 

This sent Crowley into a new wave of laughter that put him clear to the floor.

"Good Heavens no," Aziraphale said irritated. "I would never turn demon babies, snake or otherwise, loose on the world." She glared at Crowley. "Adult demons are bad enough."

Chapter Text

“Hello Dean.”

Dean looked up at the familiar voice.

"Hey Cas," the hunter said. He turned his eyes back down to the magazine he was reading. 

"You called?" Cas prompted as he stood at the foot of Dean's bed.

Dean didn't really look up as he answered.  "Yeah. Thought we had a problem," he admitted. "Turns out Crowley's just an ass."

Cas's brow furrowed in confusion. "What did he do?"

Dean dropped his book to his lap and looked up at the angel. "He brought a bunch of snake eggs into the bunker and convinced Sam and I they were his and Az's demon baby eggs."

"Demon baby eggs?" Cas repeated, even more confused.

Dean made an irritated face. "They're not," he said. "They were just bull snake eggs."

"Can I see them?" Cas asked, still concerned that the demon might have done something evil to the newly hatched snakes.

"Yeah," Dean said, slinging his book to his bed and getting up. "Az has them in boxes in the war room." He led the way down the hall into the main room of the bunker. He waved the angel towards the babies.

In the corner near the couches was a rack of boxes. Warming lamps kept the stack a very comfortable temperature. As Cas got closer, he stopped and stared. A duck sat on top of the stack. It quacked softly. 

"Did they bring the duck too?" Cas asked staring at the thing.

Dean moved to see around Cas. "Damn it," the hunter curse. "We've been trying to catch that thing all week!" Dean hurried past the angel intent on the duck.

The duck let out a series of distressed quacks and beat its wings into the air, nearly knocking the stack of bins over.

"Please be careful of the babies," Aziraphale called from the other room.

The duck escaped as Dean grabbed the stack to keep it from toppling over.

Cas looked from the retreating duck, to Dean fixing the boxes, and then up into the library.

Aziraphale in female form had stood up and was coming out to check on things. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Dean called back. "Just the duck."

"The duck?" Aziraphale asked. He looked around, but the waterfowl had escaped again.

"Doesn't matter," Dean said, patting the boxes back into order. "Cas wanted to see your snakes."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, delighted. "Of course." Her quick footsteps brought her over to stand with Dean. She took the top box over and opened the lid for Castiel. "Aren't they gorgeous," she gushed.

Cas came closer and looked down into the box. A tiny, black and white speckled snake stared up at him. Its tongue flicked in and out, smelling the world. "It's cute." He reached his hand up to poke at the baby. 

The snake curled up tightly and hissed.

"It's just a snake?" Cas asked. 

Aziraphale huffed, pulled the box away from Cas's probing hand and popped the lid back on. "Of course it is just a snake." Her voice was tight with irritation. "Crowley and I would not be reckless enough to breed demons into the world. Even if it were our own children. I am too busy and he is far from a good role model." She put the box back on top of the stack. "Do you have any other questions for me, or can I go back to my scroll? This one is very long and may take me a good while to finish."

Cas shook his head. "No," he said, not sure how to respond to the other angel's irritation. "Thank you for showing me the snakes."

Aziraphale's face softened. "You are quite welcome, my dear. Now, if you will excuse me." She turned and went back into the library to get back to work.

Cas watched her go before turning back to Dean. "Why is Aziraphale a woman?"

"Oh," the hunter said as if it didn't matter. "She lost a bet with Crowley."

Cas opened his mouth to ask, but thought better of it. He closed his mouth and pondered the angel one last time. "I should probably be getting back, if you don't need me."

"Na," Dean said, waving Cas off. "We're good."

Cas nodded and disappeared. 

Dean let out a sigh and turned toward the doorway the duck had disappeared down. He really needed to catch that bird.

Chapter Text

“Oi, Angel,” Crowley called.

Aziraphale raised her eyes from her scroll to look at Crowley on the other side of the table. 

“Got somefin for ya,” the demon said as he practically laid on the table. “How’d ya feel about a show?” He held a pair of tickets out.

Aziraphale gave him a pointed look.

"Consider it an apology," the demon coaxed. He waved the tickets back and forth temptingly.

Aziraphale let out a suffering sigh. “What show?” She reached for the tickets.

“Only the best show on Broadway,” Crowley said with a smile. He let the angel take the tickets. 

She pulled them closer and chuckled as she read the title. “All right,” she agreed. “But you are taking me for dinner afterwards.”

“Agreed,” Crowley said taking the tickets back. “But you’ve got to dress the part.”

Aziraphale huffed. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with my outfit.” She tugged on the sleeves of her jacket, straightening them.

“Not if your a stuffy old Englishman from Soho,” Crowley said as he circled the table.

An indigent sputter slipped out of the angel. “Well, I never…” she finally got out.

Pulling off his glasses, Crowley reached down and touched her cheek. He lifted her face so their eyes met. “I love you as a stuffy old Englishman from Soho.” The demon’s words were soft and loving. “But, right now you're not. You’re a gorgeous young lady and I want to show you off as such.” 

Aziraphale closed her mouth and stared at the demon in indecision. 

Crowley’s eyes widened and he pouted just a bit. “Even got you a dress.”

The angel sighed and gave in. “Oh all right."

The smile that lit Crowley's face was brilliant. "Thank you." He leaned in and kissed her warmly. "Go changed or we'll miss the show."

Aziraphale shook her head, but smiled. She stood up and headed back to the room they were using.

As soon as she was gone, Crowley stood up, slipped his glasses back on, and snapped his fingers. His stylish skinny jeans and black jumper morphed into an elegant black tux, complete with tails, top hat, and cane. The only color was the bright red bowtie at his throat. He leaned against the table to wait for his angel. 

The Winchesters sat at the other table, watching the whole exchange, not sure what to say about the demon and his temptation. It was obviously a dance the pair had done often, but it was still a little awkward to watch.

"What show are you going to see?" Sam asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence filling the room

Crowley shot the hunter a smile. "Beetlejuice."

Sam nodded and turned his eyes back to his computer. It made sense that they demon would want to go see a musical about a demon. Unable to think of anything else to talk about,  the brothers turned their attention back to their own activities while Crowley fiddled with his walking stick.

After a few minutes they heard Aziraphale's voice from the other room. "Crowley," she called, there was trepidation in her voice. "I am not sure I can wear this."

"Yes you can, Angel," the demon called back. "You look gorgeous."

"You haven't even seen me," the angel said, her voice closer.

"You'd look gorgeous in a paper bag," the demon admitted. "But that's far from a paper bag, so come out."

The brothers turned their attention to the doorway. The creature that walked through nearly knocked them both out.

"Wow," Dean gasped.

"See, Angel. Even they like it," Crowley said, standing up. He tucked his can into the crook of his arm and came over to the reluctant angel. 

"Are you sure this is all right?" Aziraphale asked looking down at the ball gown wrapped around her. She admired the glittering gold dress as she climbed the steps. The shimmering material wrapped from her right wrist, up one arm, across her chest, and fell in folds to pool on the ground around her feet. It hugged her curves in such a way that it left little to the imagination. The long split in the skirt came clear up to her hip, showing off a long line of pale flesh at her legs. A pair of strappy heels finished of the outfit. "You don't think it's too much?" she asked shyly. A blush of color ran across her cheek.

"I think it's perfect. Very stylish," Crowley said. He slipped his fingers into the braid at the back of her head and pulled the hair loose. His hands worked quickly to gather her curls up in an artfully messy twist. He used a gold pin with white angel wings to hold it all in place. He held his hand out towards the hunters, urging Aziraphale to show off. "What do you think?"

Sam fidgeted in his chair. "Yeah," he squeaked in a voice higher than normal. He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair and tried again. “I think you look nice. Very aaa… eye catching.”

“You do?” Aziraphale said, sound reassured. “Oh… Oh thank you. I thought it might be too revealing.” She shifted to show off the dress more.

Crowley shot the pair a warning look from behind the angel.

“No, no,” Dean added. “You look perfect for a night on the town. Not revealing at all.” There was a sarcastic edge to his voice that drew a sharp look from the demon, but Aziraphale seemed to miss it.

“Thank you,” she said, more relaxed then when she first came out.

“See, Angel,” the demon said, reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about.” He twisted his hand in the air and a white half cloak slipped into existence. “Ready to go?” he asked, settling the cloak onto her shoulders. 

She petted the cloth into place and looked lovingly up at the demon. “Yes. Thank you.” 

Crowley smiled, wrapped his arm around Aziraphale, and the pair disappeared.

Dean and Sam looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“Nobody is going to be watching Beetlejuice tonight,” Sam said bluntly.

“Not with that much angel skin showing,” Dean agreed. “Damn.” He shook himself and tried to go back to the paper he had been reading. 

After a minute, Sam spoke again. “Do you know Beetlejuice is another name for the star Betelgeuse in the Orien constellation?”

Dean looked up at his brother. “Did you know Betelgeuse means armpit of Orien in Arabic?”

Sam stared at his brother. “How do you know that?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t come up with one. He closed it, trying to think. “I know things,” he answered laimly.

“You know how to kill things,” Sam sassed. “I didn’t know you knew anything about Arabic.”

“Bitch,” Dean snapped and turned his eyes back to his paper.

“Jerk,” Sam replied and went back to his computer. 

Neither of them suspected that their newfound knowledge might have anything to do with a certain demon or his apple wine.

Chapter Text

Rollicking laughter rang through the bunker, pulling Sam from his sleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but the noise sounded again. Reaching out, he turned on the light by his bed and looked around. He didn’t see anything in his room, so the sound had to have come from somewhere else. He flipped his covers back to get out of bed. A few random feathers fluttered through the air. 

Sam pressed his lips together in irritation. They feathers were brown, which means that damn duck had been back in his bed. He glanced around for the waterfowl. The bird wasn’t there, but his bedroom door was open. Aggravated, he climbed from his bed and located a used shirt. He pulled it on, straightened his sleep pants, and stumbled out of his room towards the noise. He grabbed his brother’s door and pushed it open it as another burst of laughter rang out.

“Dean,” Sam called into the darkness. 

“What?” Dean called as he jerked up from his sleep. He glared at the door with bleary eyes. 

“Somethings up?” Sam said before turning away. He didn’t like waking his brother, but Crowley and Aziraphale had never been this loud before. Carefully, Sam made his way down the hall and into the war room. A figure in black stood next to the seating area Aziraphale had miracled into existence. Sam didn’t know who the being was, but the red of its long hair was vaguely familiar. So was the way it swayed as it waved its wine glass around. The part that threw Sam was the the tight fitting ball gown on the lithe figure. Recognition toyed with Sam’s mind. “Crowley?” 

The figure turned around. “Sam!” the being called. 

Dark glasses covered its eyes, but the way it spoke and moved confirmed Sam’s suspicions.

Crowley teetered on a pair of ridiculously tall heels as she crossed the room and grabbed the hunter by his arm. “Come. Meet my friend.”  The demon pulled Sam into motion and practically drug him across the room. 

Sam stared when two more women were revealed. He recognized Aziraphale in her golden gown. Her feet were tucked up under her as she curled in her normal chair. She still looked like she walked out of a Victoria Secrets runway show. It was the second being that confused Sam. The dark haired woman stood up to great Sam.

“Hello,” she said, holding out a thin hand. She wasn’t as lithe as Crowley, but she was still tall and thin. Her dark green and gold dress hugged her slight curves.

“Hello,” Sam said, greeting the stranger. He took her hand for a solid shake. “I’m Sam Winchester.”

A sharp smile crossed the woman’s lips. “Loki.”

Confusion crossed Sam’s face and he held the woman’s hand not quite processing what he was told. “Loki?” he said. “As in the trickster god?”

“He’s dead.” Dean said as he came up behind his brother. “Micheal killed him.”

Loki smiled almost unkindly. “The imposter is dead,” she explained. “I am very much alive.” She took his hand back from Sam and reclaimed her seat. 

“Loki isn’t a god,” Aziraphale slurred a little before sipping her glass of wine. “He’s Asgardian.

“I am a god,” Loki snapped.

Aziraphale smiled at her. “You’re powerful, but you’re no more God than Crowley or I,” the angel explained.

Loki gave the angel a pointed look, but gave in. “I’m still a god in Norse mythology.”

“So am I,” Crowley sprouted from behind Aziraphale’s chair.

Dean turned to look at the demon. “You’re a god?”

Crowley stuck her tongue out showing off the forked end. “Yessss,” she hissed. 

Aziraphale giggled. “Norse were impreshimable.” She grinned at Loki. “Easily awed by magic.”

Loki shrugged on shoulder. “It was a good time in history.”

Sam looked from the woman on the couch to Crowley and back. “Norse mythology,” he tried to make sense of things. “Asgardian?” The name toyed with his memory. He pointed to Loki. “Didn’t you have something to do with that mess in New York a few years ago?”

“Possibly,” Loki said without looking at the hunter.

“Was him,” Aziraphale confirmed. “Released alien army in New York. But is ok. Has seen error of his ways. Been abmashhish.. abmon... forgiven for him mistakes. All better now.” She laid her head over into the corner of her chair and smiled warmly at Loki.

Sam turned to look at Aziraphale. The angel didn’t sound quite right. “Are you okay?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’m good.” She nearly spilt her wine as she tried to take another sip without sitting up.

“And you’re friends with him?” Dean asked, picking up Sam’s derailed train of thought.

“Is Crowley’s friend,” Aziraphale corrected. “I meet him tonight. Is good fun.”

Dean shook his head and looked at the woman on his couch. “You keep saying ‘him’, but…” He waved at Loki. 

“Loki is trickster,” Aziraphale explained. “Can be anything he wants.”

“We're having a girl's night out,” Crowley explained. 

“Ah,” Sam said. His brow furrowed in thought. He turned to Crowley. “How do you know him?”

Crowley made a face. “I’m over six thousand year old. I know lots of people.”

Aziraphale snickered. “Crowley ate the sheeps.”

“Oi!” Crowley snapped. “Wasn’t eat’n sheep. Was steal’n them.”

The angel twisted in her seat to look up at the demon. “You swallowed em whole. Poor sheeps”

“Was the easiest way to get them out,” Crowley whined.

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said sarcastically. “Be a gigantic snake and just gobble up the little sheepies.” She made a motion with her hand like it was a snake munching down sheep. “And yack them up in another field.” Her make believe snake puked up an unknown number of sheep. There was even a slightly suggesting sound effect to go with the motion. “What did you call it again? Fermenting discord?” She looked up at the demon.

“Fomenting,” Crowley corrected. “I was supposed to temp the clansmen into stealing them, but he wouldn’t do it.”

“Got yourself seen,” the angel said smugly. “How’d that go?”

Crowley groaned. “How was I supposed to know the shepherd was there?” She waved at Loki. “And then this one goes around spreading rumors of a World Serpent.”

“I honestly didn’t know about your little attempt at chaos when I told that story,” Loki added. 

“Wait,” Sam said, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. “You’re Jörmungandr?”

“Yup,” Crowley said with a proudly popped ‘p’. He rocked back on his heels in pleasure.

“Nope,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I’m done. Going back to bed.” He turned and started out of the room. “Bye.”

“Isn’t he a pleasant fellow?” Loki said sarcastically. 

Sam snickered. “You have no idea.”

“Well,” Loki said. She placed her glass on the table and stood up. “I’ve got to get back before Thor realizes I’m gone.” She waved her hand down and her image shimmer as she transformed from a very pretty girl in a green cocktail dress to a lanky man in a green and black tunic. He turned to Aziraphale and tilted his head. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Aziraphale smiled. “And you.” She attempted to stand, but stumbled on the long skirt.  

Crowley’s hand caught her before she could tip over into the table. “Sit down, Angel. You’re drunk,”

Aziraphale tutted at him, but sank back into the chair. “Forgive me,” she said. "I’ve had too much."

Loki smile at her. "It's all right," he reassured the angel. "I hope we can do this again sometime."

"Oh yes," Aziraphale said. "Stop by the shop. Anytime." She extended her hand.

"I will," Loki said, shaking her hand firmly. He slipped out out from the seating area and looked at Sam. "You and your brother have fun."

Sam nodded.

Loki turned to face Crowley. "If you don't mind."

"Of course," Crowley said. "See you later." She snapped her fingers and Loki disappeared. 

Sam glanced around. "Where did he go?"

Crowley came around and dropped herself on the couch. "I'd assume he's back to where he came from.”

Sam gave the demon a shocked look. “You don’t know?”

“Nope,” Crowley said as she lounged on the couch and sipped her wine. “None of my business where he wants to go.”

“But you just…” Sam waved at the air where Loki had been. He didn’t have the words to sort out what he wanted to say. 

“Yup,” Crowley sassed.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m going back to bed.” He turned and left Aziraphale and Crowley to themselves. He didn’t have the mind to deal with them anymore.

Chapter Text

The King of Hell stood at the edge of the seating area and stared at the two women passed out. He had come here expecting to find the Serpent of Eden in a male aspect, but he could tell the dark woman sprawled across the couch was the demon. But, then again, the Serpent was a Fallen Angel, and angels could choose their gender at will, so it didn’t really surprise him. She was much prettier than Crowley had imagined.

His eyes moved to the fair woman, curled under the Serpent's tartan. Her white, feather-like hair framed her angelic face. There was no doubt that she was the Serpent’s angel. He could feel her divinity from here. For a moment, Crowley considered using the sleeping angel to force the Serpent into doing what he wanted, but quickly decided against it. If half of the things he’d heard about the Serpent were true (they were not), threatening the angel would only get him destroyed (it would, with utmost prejudice). He decided to stick to his original plan. 

Coming over to the couch, Crowley gently nudged the Serpent’s ankle. “Hey,” he called quietly.

The Serpent drew in a deep breath, stretched, and opened her eyes.

Crowley froze as he met her golden eyes. Tension raced down the Serpent’s body. Crowley stepped back and raised his hands to show he wasn’t armed. “I’m only here to talk.”

The Serpent drew herself up from the couch. “And you are?” she asked.

“I’m Crowley, King of Hell,” Crowley answered.

Many things passed over the Serpent’s face, but they were all too quick for Crowley to catch. The demon looked down at the sleeping angel before turning her attention back to the king. “Let’s talk in the other room,” the Serpent said. The demon clicked its fingers and transformed back into its normal form. He pulled a pair of dark sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on. “Best not to wake her.”

Crowley stepped back as the Serpent sauntered past him. He looked at the angel one last time before following the other demon out.  

The Serpent walked up the steps into the library, turned around, leaned his butt against the table, and crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

The King of Hell was not used to being afraid, but there was a subtle threat in the Serpent’s words that sent a shot of fear up his spine. “I’ve come to make you a deal?”

The Serpent seemed shocked. “A deal?”

“Yes. I want you to leave the Winchesters alone,” Crowley explained. “In return, I’m prepared to offer you a full pardon in Hell.”

“A full pardon?” the Serpent said. Disbelieve heavy in his voice.

“Yes,” Crowley continued. “I can make it so you are no longer viewed as a traitor in Hell. You can come back to work and I can even offer you a title.”

“What makes you think I would want to come back to Hell?” the Serpent said sharply.

Crowley drew in a deep breath, but did not have an answer for that. Hell wasn’t a nice place, but it was home to all demonkind. It was unthinkable that a demon wouldn’t want to come back to at least visit it. “It’s home,” he finally answered. It wasn’t a very nice home, but it was all they had. 

The Serpent let out a bark of laughter. “It’s not my home anymore,” he said. “My home’s in London.” He cocked his head and considered the King of Hell. “Why would you offer me such a deal?”

“I want you to leave the Winchesters alone,” Crowley said again. 

The Serpent twisted his head farther in thought. “Why?”

“Because I’m rather fond of them,” Crowley finally admitted. “Moose has been a right pain in my ass, but Squirrel has kept me entertained. They both have shown me new things about humanity that I forgot. I don’t want you coming in and destroying that.”

The Serpent considered him for a long minute. “I have a deal with the brothers and I’m not willing to give that up, but I can make a deal with you. Pardon me, reinstate my rights in Hell, and make it so Aziraphale and I are off limits. You do those three things and I will see that the Winchester brothers and their angel come to no harm by Aziraphale or I.”

Crowley considered this. The Serpent must be amazingly strong if he can force an angel to abide by his deals. But, then again, this wasn’t the first deal the Serpent made the angel honor. “What about the title and work?”

The Serpent waved them away. “Don’t need a title and I have enough to keep me busy in my days.”

The King of Hell considered the deal. “Done,” he agreed. “You and your angel keep your hands off the Winchesters and I’ll arrange things in Hell. Deal stands for as long as I rule Hell.” He held out his hand to pull the Serpent in to seal the deal. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate a good snogging,” the Serpent said, snapping his fingers. Two sheets of paper appeared in his hand. “But, we’ll do this the old way.” He held the document out for Crowley to take. 

The short paragraph on the page spelled everything out in very neat words. The Winchesters and Castiel were safe from the Serpent and Aziraphale, while the Serpent and his angel were pardoned and safe from Hell as long as Crowley ruled it. Not a lot of room for interpretation or loopholes. 

Crowley pulled a pen out of his pocket and signed both pages with his sigil. He offered the pen to the Serpent, but the demon waved it away. He licked his finger and burned his mark into the pages with a spark of Hellfire. Crowley knew Fallen Angels could do that trick, but he’d never seen it before. It was impressive. 

The Serpent took the two pages, separated them, and rolled each one up. A red ribbon appeared and wrapped itself around each page, sealing the scrolls. “Here,” he offered one to Crowley. “If either of us break the contract, the other will know.” The Serpent slipped his copy into his inner jacket pocket. 

Crowley took his copy and slipped into his breast pocket. He could feel the power in the slim paper. This wasn’t some measly deal for a soul. This paper promised divine retribution should either of them break the deal. What had he done? Licking the roof of his mouth to ease his tension, Crowley gave the Serpent a pointed smile. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, trying to appear unruffled.

“Good luck ruling Hell,” the Serpent replied.

Stepping back, Crowley willed himself out of there. Making a deal with the Serpent was a risky move, but he’d tempted fate more than once when it came to the Winchesters. It was time to get a drink to celebrate his new deal and possible settle his frayed nerves a bit.

****

As soon as the King of Hell winked out of the bunker, Crowley placed his hand over the contract in his pocket. A full pardon in Hell and protection from the demons. All he had to do was make sure he and Aziraphale didn’t hurt the Winchesters. Not a hard bargain considering he kind of liked the boys anyway. Joy bubbled up in his soul as he pushed away from the table and went to wake Aziraphale. This called for celebration!

Chapter Text

“We should try this,” Crowley said, pointing to a portion of the scroll Aziraphale was working on. 

Her eyes lifted from her placed and looked at the part that caught the demon’s interest. “We have already done that,” she said before going back to her transcription. 

“No, this part right here,” Crowley said, running his fingers over the exact words he was reading. 

A flush crawled up Aziraphale’s face as she read more carefully. “Are you suggesting I tie you up and... and… Do that !”

“Nope,” Crowley chirped happily. “I’m suggesting I tie you up and do that.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the side of the angel’s head.

The angel sputtered with indignity. 

“In fact, I know just where to put the Saint Andrew’s cross.” Before Aziraphale could protest more, Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared. 

“Crowley,” the angel yelled to the empty air. “It better not be anywhere near my books! They might get ideas!”

Dean looked up from his movie and stared at the irate angel. 

Aziraphale huffed and stood up. “He is such a dreadful fiend.” She turned on her heels and headed towards the kitchen. “I need a cup of tea now.”

Dean let his eyes drop back to his movie. He really didn’t want to think about what the angel and demon were going to do with a Saint Andrew’s cross.

Chapter Text

“Here,” Aziraphale said. 

Sam looked up to see the angel standing over him holding out the latest translation. “Is it finished?” he asked, taking the volume from the angel’s hands. This translation had taken much less time than the others.

“No,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I am simply done with this abhorrent book. The writing is terrible, the relationship is unhealthy, and the portrayal of the subject matter is absolutely dreadful. I simply can not continue with this translation.”

“But what if it has something that can help Cas?” Sam exclaimed. 

“That book does not contain anything that will help your angel,” Aziraphale admitted. “If you want to keep that scroll, you are welcome to it.”

“Oi, Angel,” Crowley snapped as he came into the room. “That wasn’t the deal. I want that scroll.”

Aziraphale turned to the demon, put her hands on her hips, and yelled at him. “Well, I am not translating any more of it.”

“But, I need…” Sam started but stopped when Azirphale turned her attention back to the hunter. Her eyes were lighter and energy crackled around her.

“You want it translated?” she growled. She snapped her fingers and a large volume appeared in her hand. “There is your translation.” She dropped the book on top of the book already in Sam’s hands. “You all work out what to do with the scroll. I don't want it in my collection.” She stormed away leaving Sam and Crowley alone. 

Sam stared after the angel. He had never seen her so ruffled. He looked down at the thick paperback in his hands. The cover was familiar. He’d seen the gray book with a tie on it. “This is the scroll?” he said in disbelief. He flipped both Azirapahle’s book and the mass market paperback open and started to compare them. They were exact, word for word.

“I’ll get her to finish the translation,” Crowley promised as he turned to follow the angel out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said, closing up both books. He looked over at the demon. “If this is truly the translation, I don’t want to make Aziraphale do something she isn’t comfortable with.”

The demon straightened a little in hope. 

An idea passed through Sam and he stacked the two books together. “I’ll get Dean to look at what Aziraphale has already done. And if he’s happy with them, you can keep the scroll.” He slid the two books over to where Dean normally sat. His brother is going to freak out at having to read that book.

Crowley smiled at him. “You would make a good demon.”

“I made a great demon,” Sam admitted. “Although I don’t think I want to do it again. I enjoy having my soul.”

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. “I probably should go check on my angel.” He turned and made a hasty retreat from the library.

Sam smirked and went back to his computer to surf the web some more.

Chapter Text

“We have got to do something about this duck,” Sam said as he came into the kitchen. He plopped an old shirt on the table top ad pulled it open. “The damn thing made a nest in my bed!”

Dean looked over the collection of random objects and feathers. He poked through and pulled out a few things that had been missing from his room. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked. “It’s managed to avoid the traps we’ve set, and we’ve agreed we can’t kill it.”

“What about a devil’s trap?” Sam suggested.

“For a duck?’ Dean replied. 

“Why not?” Sam offered. “Crowley trapped a piece of pie. All we need is the Enochian word for duck. I’m sure Aziraphale could give us that.”

Dean thought about that for a moment. He knew the angel liked ducks. “And if he’s not willing?”

“I have the first scroll he translated,” Sam reminded. “There was a poem about ducks in that. It should have the proper word for duck.”

Dean thought about it for a second. He looked down at the collection of random items on the table. “Go get the book and I’ll get the paint.” They needed to do something about this duck before things got out of hand.

Chapter Text

A strange sound pulled Sam’s attention up from his computer. He glanced at Dean, deep in the gray covered book, before turning to look at the angel in the room. Aziraphale, back in his male aspect, sat with the side of his hand shoved in his mouth muffling the sound. 

The angel’s eyes traced over the page and another strange snorting noise slipped.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked. 

Startled, Aziraphale pulled his hand out of his mouth and wiped his palm over his mouth in a nervous motion. “Oh yes,” he said. His voice a little breathier than normal. “I’m just… Having some trouble with this translation.” There was a twinkle in his eye that was a cross between delight and offence. “All will be well,” he promised, pushing his chair back from the table. “I just need a moment.” The angel got up and left for the kitchen. 

Sam looked from the retreating angel to the book he was translating. He wanted to go over and look at what the angel was working on, but reigned in his curiosity. The angel was moving quickly through the scroll and should have it done very soon. He turned his attention to his brother. “What do you think that was about?”

Dean shrugged as he turned another page . “No idea.” He read on a little  before letting out a snort of amusement. “So that’s what they wanted a Saint Andrews Cross for.”

Sam opened his mouth to comment, but closed it. He really did not want to know.

Chapter Text

“Hey Sammy,” Dean called as he rushed into the library. “Guess what I got?”

The smell of something sweet and spicy mixed with hot meat wafted by Sam as Dean swung four bags up onto the table. Sam’s eyes widened. “You didn’t,” Sam gasped, pushed the top of his computer closed, and shoved it out of the way.

“Oh yeah,” Dean said as he started pulling styrofoam boxes out of the bag. “You remember that place down on the county road?”

“The little white one with the hand painted sign?” Sam asked excitedly.

“That one,” Dean said pulling out several plastic tubs. "Drove past on my way back. They finally got their license back."

"I didn't think they would ever get that sorted out," Sam said, popping open the top of one of the containers. Hot steam billowed out of pulled meat. Sam took a deep breath, drawing in the delicious scent.

"Good Heaven," Aziraphale said from his seat at the far table. "What is that amazing smell?"

Sam looked over to find the angel sitting up straight, sniffing the air.

Dean grinned. "Dinner, " he said, holding his hand out to show off the array of boxes. A hint of mischief twinkled in his eye. "Can I tempt you?"

Aziraphale sat very still for a long moment. Eyes widened at Dean's wording. "I normally only let Crowley tempt me, but that does smell divine." He stood up and came over to investigate.  

Sam pulled some thin paper plates out of one of the bags and dished out some food. "You'll like this." He slid the plate in front of the empty chair.

Aziraphale looked down at the food. It was sloppier than anything the angel was used to. "What is that?"

"Only the best barbecue in Kansas!" Dean said pulling the top off several small tubs of tomato based sauce.  "This one is original." He set the tub down by the angel. "This one is sweet. And this one is spicy." He set the other tubs down for the angel to try.

Aziraphale eyed the plate suspiciously. The cheap paper was bearly holding together under the assault of juicy food. “I’m not sure. That looks… messy.”

“It is, but it’s good,” Sam coaxed. “All southern classics.” He pointed to the plate with a flimsy plastic fork and named them off. “Potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, and pulled pork.” He shoved the fork down into the pile of pulled pork. 

“And cornbread,” Dean said as he added a muffin to the plate. 

Aziraphale dithered as he stared at the plate. 

Dean suspected this was a bit further from the angel’s normal fair than Aziraphale was comfortable with. “Come on,” Dean coaxed. “You can’t come to the US and not try barbeque.”

“Oh all right,” Aziraphale caved. “Temptation accomplished.” He pulled out the chair and sat down at the plate. “Where do you suggest I start?”

Dean grinned wide. “I suggest you start by taking off your coat. We have ribs!”

***

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped. “What in Manchester’s name are you doing?” He froze on the steps, unable to tear his eyes away from the blasphemous scene. His angel sat with the Winchesters half naked. Well, half naked in Crowley’s eyes. The angel’s coat was carefully folded over a chair and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The angel had a paper plate and a plastic fork. Crowley had never known Aziraphale to eat with paper or plastic. What was even worse, the angel’s face and hands was covered in splashes of red.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale called cheerefully. He sucked some of the red from his fingers before grabbing an honest-to-someone paper towel and scrubbed the sauce off his face. “You simply must try this.” He actually scooted his chair back and held it out for Crowley to sit down. 

Bewildered, Crowley came over and looked down at the angel’s half eaten plate. Aziraphale would share bites if he liked something, but it was rare for him to offer up more that just a sample. This must really be something special.  He looked at the hunters, both tucked into similar plates. Both covered in the same sticky red sauce that coated his angel. “What is this?” Crowley asked, settling into the empty chair. 

“It’s an American dish called barbeque,” Aziraphale explained, delight raising his voice over the name of the dish.

“Best damn barbeque in Kansas,” Dean said around a mouthful of something. He grabbed his bottle of cheap beer and washed it back. He cocked his eyebrow at Crowley. “You gonna try it?”

There was a challenge in the hunter’s voice that irritated Crowley. Grabbing the sticky fork, the demon shoved it into the sauce covered meat and scooped up a glob. He shoved it in his mouth defiantly. The flavor that melted over his tongue killed his irritation. It was decadent in a sinful way. He sucked the juice from the meat and chewed. After a minute, he swallowed and looked up at Aziraphale. “That’s amazing.”

“I know,” the angel answered giddy. He picked up an open bottle of beer and took a swig. “We should probably try more American classics while we’re here.” He held the bottle out to Crowley.

Crowley stared at the cheap beer in surprise. He’d drinking similar stuff, but he never thought he’d see Aziraphale defial his lips with it. Taking the bottle, he took a sip. It was as nasty as he remembered, but there was something about the sweat and heat from the barbeque sauce that made it right. He looked up at to find Aziraphale beaming at him. The desire to watch his angel enjoy this new culinary delight drove him to his feet. He held out the chair for Azriaphale to sit back down. “Yes we should,” he agreed. He always loved the look on Aziraphale’s face when he discovered something new. Especially when it left the angel sucking sauce off his fingers.  

Chapter Text

Sam stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. Dean held the scroll Aziraphale had just finished, while the angel held the transcriptions. It hadn’t taken Aziraphale very long to finish with this one. 

“What’s in it?” Sam asked as he took the book from Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Nothing much,” the angel offered. “Inventory reports from shortly before the Great Fall.”

Sam flipped open the book and started reading through the list of items. Most of it was what one would expect from a military report, but he stopped at one line that stuck out. He touched the entry as he read it a second time. “Is this right?” he asked, looking up at the angel.

Amusement shimmered in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I did promise you a complete transcription. And no, I would not add something like that to your translation.”

“Add what?” Dean asked looking over at the book in Sam’s hands.

Sam looked down and read the unusual entry. “Oh my God, I can not believe this wanker is biting his toenails. In the office. If Gabriel wasn’t such a prat, I would go complain.” 

“There’s an Enoch word for wanker?” Dean asked.

“And prat?” Sam added.

“Well,” Aziraphale fidgeted. “No,” he admitted. “There is, however, a rather descriptive paragraph depicting an impossible act of self gratification that is rather a bit embarrassing. I could not bring myself to write it out.”

“I can!” Crowley shouted in glee. He snatched the book from Sam’s hand and took it back over to the table. 

“That is absolutely not necessary,” Aziraphale cried in alarm. “The translation is complete.”

“Yes it is,” Crowley argued as he grabbed Aziraphale’s quill. “It may be complete, but it’s not nice and accurate. Can’t give um shoddy work, Angle.” Bending at the waist, he placed his elbows on the table and wiggled his butt back and for as he scribbled in the book.

Aziraphale huffed. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But please make sure you write neatly.”

“Always,” Crowley sassed. He scribbled across the page before flipping through the book and correcting all of the other additions Aziraphale had sanitized. Once he was done, he dropped the quill back to the table and closed the book. Standing up, he came back over and held the book out for Sam. “All fixed.”

Sam took the book and flipped it open to the page with the strange addition. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he read through Crowley’s translation. “That is an impossible act of… Um… self gratification.” He held the book out for Dean to read. 

“Damn,” the hunter gasped. He looked up to Aziraphale. “And this was written by an angel?”

Aziraphale sighed. “It must have been very shortly before the war. I do not believe this angel remained on Heaven’s side.”

“I think it might have been Dagon,” Crowley added. “I recognize his style.”

Sam took the book back and flipped through it looking for Crowley’s writing. 

“Is this translation sufficient?” Aziraphale grumbled. 

“Oh yeah,” Sam said reading over the next section. He pointed it out to his brother. 

“Man that had to hurt,” Dean said as he reread the passage. He turned to look at the angel and held out the scroll. “All good.”

Aziraphale shook his head and took the scroll. “Enjoy your book,” he added as he walked away. “I am going for wine.” He needed a drink after that scroll.

Chapter Text

“Here.”

Dean looked up from his book to find Crowley perched on the edge of the table. He held a leather book out towards the hunter.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, taking the book from the demon’s hand. He brought it close. The book looked similar to the volumes Aziraphale had been working with, but it was much smaller.

“A pronunciation guild,” Crowley said with a cheeky grin.

Dean gave the demon a confused look before flipping the book open to see what he meant. The pages were filled with Enochian words, their English counterparts, and a phonetic pronunciation of what the words should sound like. “This is…”

“Yup,” Crowley said proudly. “The human vocal cords aren’t designed to speak Enoch, but that will get you close.” The demon jumped off the table and started to saunter away. “Just don’t use um around my angel,” he called over his shoulder.

Dean looked back down at the book and started to read the words Crowley had given them. A smile turned the corner of his mouth. Most of the words were from the last scroll. And all of them were foul. He spent the next few minutes sounding them out.

“What’s that?”

Dean looked up at his brother and said one of the words. 

Confusion crossed Sam’s face. “What language is that?”

A grin brightened Dean’s face. “Enoch,” he said. “Crowley gave me a pronunciation guild.” He held the book up to Sam and pointed to the word he’d spoken. 

Sam took the volume and looked at the word Dean pointed at. “Did you just call me a bitch in Enoch?”

Dean’s grin got wider. 

“Jerk,” Sam sneared. Taking the book, he found his way into his normal seat to study it.

Chapter Text

Sliding his hand up under his shirt, Dean scratched as his stomach trying to shake off sleep. He grabbed his towel and started towards the bathroom, but stopped when he heard quacking in the hall.

The duck poked its head out of Sam’s room and waddled out into the hall. 

Excitement made Dean’s pulse jump. The thing wandered straight into one of the new devil’s traps the hunters had laid for it.

The duck stopped in the middle of the circle. It looked up at Dean, quacked loudly, and waddled right out of the trap.

Dean stared in absolute shock. He was sure they had gotten the Enoch word for duck correct. He walked over to the circle to see if something was wrong. The trap looked unbroken. What the Hell was going on?

Chapter Text

“Can you help us?”

Aziraphale looked up from his scroll to find the two hunters standing by his table. “That depends on what you need help with,” he said. 

“We’ve been having a problem with a duck in the bunker,” Sam explained.

The angel smiled. “I like ducks.”

“Yes,” Sam continued. “I like ducks too, but not when they're nesting in my bed.” He was starting to get irritated with duck feathers in his blankets. “We don’t want to kill it, but we’ve tried to catch it with no success.”

“We even tried devil’s traps,” Dean added. “Damn thing walked right out.”

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said in surprise.

Sam licked his lips nervously. “We were wondering if you had any ideas on how to get rid of it.”

Confusion bent Aziraphale’s brow. “Why would you want to get rid of it? Ducks are a symbol of happiness and fidelity. Hearing wild ducks quack is a good omen. Ducks in flight signal the passing of sad times and troubled. You should be pleased that a duck has graced you with its presence.”

“But it’s nesting in my bed,” Sam whined. 

“Then I suggest you give it a better place to nest,” the angel answered. 

Confusion crossed Sam’s face. “A what?’

“A better place to nest,” Aziraphale repeated. “A nesting box. Perhaps in the garage. With a little paddle pool to make it cozy.” He snapped his fingers and a book on duck keeping appeared in his hand. “Here.” He held the book out to Sam. “Just make sure you feed it proper. Bread is actually very bad for ducks.”

Sam took the book, shocked at the angel’s suggestion. “Thanks?” he said, not sure what else to say. This looked like the only answer they were going to get.

“You are quite welcome,” Aziraphale said before turning his attention back to his scroll.

Sam turned to look at Dean with the book in his hands. 

Dean glared at him. “We are not putting a nesting box in the garage for your dumb bird. My baby is in there.”

Sam glared at him. “Why not?” he sassed back. “I bet it likes Queen.”

Dean’s jaw tightened in anger. He was still pissed that his car was turning his tapes into the best of Queen when he forgot them. “Bitch,” he snapped and turned to stalk off.

“Jerk!” Sam responded before leaving in the other direction. 

They still didn’t have an answer for their duck problem.

Chapter Text

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called as he swaggered into the room as a quicker clip than usual. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late.”

Dean looked up from his movie and stared at the demon in shock. Crowley wasn’t wearing his normal outfit. He had a formal coat over a white shirt and a black skirt that hung just past his knees. Flashes of a red and black plaid could be seen in the many pleats of the skirt. His normal snakeskin boots were replaced with a closed toed shoe that laced across the top and knee length socks with a flash of the red plaid tucked into the fold. He had some kind of furry pouch thing hanging down in front of his crotch.

“What, my dear?” Aziraphale said, looking up from his work.

“It’s Burns Night,” Crowley prompted. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t make it before they close the doors. You know how much you enjoy the Address to the Haggis.”

“That’s tonight?” Aziraphale gasped. 

Crowley nodded.

“Oh dear!” The angel stood up and snapped his fingers. His normal suit disappeared and left him dressed in a cream colored version of Crowley's outfit. His skirt was the same pattern as his normal bow tie. He fussed with his white fir pouch for a moments. “Do I look all right?” 

“You always look good, Angel,” Crowley said as he stepped forward and kissed the angel’s cheek. “Now, come on before we’re late.” Crowley turned and started to lead the way out. 

Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, Dean spoke up. “You guys are going out in skirts?”

Aziraphale turned and glared at Dean. “They are not skirts,” he snapped, irritated. “They are kilts.”

Crowley stopped to watch his angel correct the hunter. Amusement twisted his lips into a grin.

“This,” Aziraphale said, passing a hand over his outfit to show it off, “is the traditional formal dress of Scotland.” He turned and actually looked at Crowley. “Oh good lord,” he huffed. He turned his eyes away from the demon as if he couldn’t stand to look at him. “Are you really wearing that?”

“What?” Crowley said patting his kilt. “I think I look nice.”

Aziraphale huffed again and gave the demon an irritated look. “Why are you wearing a Cameron tartan? You know I have my own.”

Crowley writhed in exasperation. “Angel,” he whined. “You’re tartan is cream. It’s not my color.”

“It is your color,” Aziraphale snapped. “As my husband, my tartan is your tartan.” He crossed his arms and turned away from the demon. “Either you change that tartan or we will not go.”

Crowley let out a harsh hissing noise. “You know how much I hate tartans,” he gripped.

Aziraphale didn’t budge. 

“I’m doing this for you.”

The angel jerked his head up just slightly, still not giving in.

Crowley thrashed around for another minute before breaking. “Fine,” he barked. He snapped his fingers and the red in his kilt and on his socks turned to the cream colors of the angel’s tartan. “Happy?”

Aziraphale dropped his arms and turned to face his demon. A smile lit up the angel’s face. “Much.” He came over and took the demon by the arm. “Thank you, my love.”

A blush rushed over Crowley’s cheeks and he pushed up his glasses. “Yeah. Whatever,” he said instead of ‘you’re welcome’. “Lets go get you some haggis.”

With a flutter of feathers, the pair disappeared.

“What the hell was that about?” Sam asked as he came in from the back doorway. He’d been standing there watching the angel and demon argue.

Dean just shrugged and turned his attention back to his movie. “Marital drama over the color of Crowley’s skirt.”

Sam looked at the spot where the angel and demon had disappeared from. He still didn’t know what had happened, but he did know one thing. “They’re kilts,” he corrected his brother.

“Bitch,” Dean snipped.

“Jerk,” Sam sassed as he passed through on his way out of the library.

Chapter Text

Sam looked up from his computer. Aziraphale had made a noise that didn't sound right coming from the angel. “Is everything okay?” 

Aziraphale gave Sam a distressed look. It wasn't a good look on the angel. “I’ve finished the last scroll.”

“Already?” Sam said. Aziraphale had only been working on it for a day or so.

“It was not very long,” the angel admitted. “Could you please bring your brother?”

Alarm raced through Sam. Something was wrong. “Yeah,” he said. He pushed up from the table and went to find Dean. Whatever was in the scroll couldn’t be good if it upset Aziraphale so badly.

***

Sam and Dean stood together facing Crowley and Aziraphale. The angel was visibly distressed. He clutched the original scroll tightly. Crowley didn’t look terribly at ease either.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“I’ve finished the scroll,” Aziraphale said. 

Dean held his hand out for the original scroll like they had always done. 

Aziraphale shook his head and gripped the paper tighter. “Crowley,” he prompted. 

The demon proceeded with the formalities that they had gotten away from. “Can this scroll be used to physically harm celestial beings?”

“No,” Aziraphale said. His fingers couldn’t tighten around the scroll anymore without damaging the thing. 

“Aziraphale?” Sam asked. Worry on his face. 

The angel shook his head and waited for the demon to go on.

“Does the scroll contain something dangerous?” Crowley asked.

“Extremely,” Aziraphale answered. “Give them the book, Crowley.”

Sam and Dean shot each other a concerned look. Sam took the book and flipped it open. “What is it?” he asked

“Read it,” Aziraphale said.

Sam read over the two pages. The color drained from his face and he read it again to make sure he understood it. 

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“A spell,” Aziraphale answered.

Hope brightened Dean’s eyes. “Is it something Cas can use in his war?” He took the book from Sam’s hands and read over the spell. 

“Possibly,” Aziraphale said, “But I will not allow it.”

The hope in Dean’s eyes died as he read over the pages. He breathed through his mouth trying to contain his horror. “Is this…” He looked up to the angel unable to finish his sentence.

“God’s reset button,” Crowly offered grimly.

Aziraphale nodded. “This spell would not just end Castiel’s war in Heaven. It would end everything. It brings down the barriers between Heaven, Hell, Earth, and Purgatory.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed and closed the book. He held it gently as if it could explode. “What do we do?” He asked the room in general, but looked to Aziraphale. 

“I can not leave this scroll in human hands,” Aziraphale answered. “The spell is very simple and anyone could activate it. Even if they do not read Enoch.”

“How do you activate the scroll?” Sam asked. He took the book back from his brother to read the spell again. 

“You destroy it,” Aziraphale said. “A simple fire in your stockroom could have release Hell and Purgatory into the world unchecked. It would have been a disaster.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed “I’ve been to Purgatory. Let’s not do that.”

“You’ve been to Purgatory?” Crowley asked, disbelieve thick in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “Long story. Not a nice place. Possibly worse than Hell.”

Aziraphale drew in a breath to ask, but Dean shook his head.

“What do we do about the scroll?” he asked instead of letting the angel continue. 

“I have a place I can put it that is safe,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“We’re not giving you the scroll,” Dean growled.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm to calm his brother. “The scroll is ours and our deal does state that we get to keep the original if it contains something dangerous.”

“That may be true,” Aziraphale said calmly. “But I can not allow this power to remain in human hands.”

“And we’re not going to give it to a demon,” Dean glared at Crowley.

“Oi,” Crowley snapped back.

Aziraphale reached over and touched Crowley’s arm, soothing him. He turned his attention to the hunters. “First off, Crowley is not a demon. He is a Fallen Angel. An entirely different class than you are used to.”

Crowley leaned over towards Aziraphale and unquietly whispered. “I am a demon.”

“Hush dear,” the angel said quietly. “I am defending you.”

“Oh, okay,” Crowley sassed. “Then by all means.” He held his hand out signaling for the angel to continue. 

Missing or ignoring the sarcasm in the demon's voice, Azriaphale nodded and turned  back to the hunters. “And secondly, he is not just a Fallen Angel. He is a Guardian Angel. Capital g. We both are. It is our job to protect the world from things like this.” He tipped the scroll forward to indicate his meaning.

“So you’re going to just take the scroll and what?" Dean growled. “Stick it in your bookshop?”

“Oh Heavens no,” Aziraphale said. “It would not be safe there. My bookshop has already burned once. But I do know of a place where no man, monster, or angel would dare to tread.”

“Where?” Sam asked.

Aziraphale gave him a weighted look. “Somewhere safe,” he said. His tone politely told Sam not to ask again.

Sam drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “We’re going to have to talk to Cas about this.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Take the book. Talk to Castiel. Crowley and I will remain right here until you have made your decision.” 

Sam stared at the Guardians. Aziraphale’s tone had said more than his words did. They would remain to hear the hunters' decision, but they would enact whatever plan they had concocted regardless of their input.

Chapter Text

 Dean sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Cas to finish looking at the spell. “Well,” he asked as soon as the angel looked up.

“This would destroy everything we’ve worked for,” Cas said, distress thick in his voice. 

“What do we do with it?” Sam asked. 

Cas turned to look at the younger brother. “It can’t remain in the hands of man. Even a minor accident could activate the spell.” He looked down at the book. “I could take it to Heaven, but I don’t think it would be safe there.” 

“So we should what?  Just give it to them?” Dean growled angrily.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Sam added. “Aziraphale isn’t going to give up the scroll without a fight. And I don’t think we can take him.”

“He’s only a Principality,” Cas said, considering his options. “I could probably take him in a fair fight, but he’s got the Serpent on his side. And I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“We’ve won against worse,” Dean pointed out

“That still leaves us with the problem of where to keep the scroll.” Sam pointed out. “There are too many dangers to leave it on Earth, Heaven's at war, and Hell would probably use it.”

Cas considered this, but could not think of anywhere safe. “Aziraphale said he had a safe place?”

“Yes,” Sam confirmed. “But he wouldn’t say where.”

Cas’s jaw tightened. “Then maybe we should ask again.” Closing the book, he turned and lead the way back to the library. True to his word, Aziraphale stood in the exact same spot Dean and Sam had left him. Crowley had pulled two chairs over behind the angel. He sprawled in one and had his feet propped up on the other. 

“Have you come to a decision?” Aziraphale asked. 

“No,” Cas admitted. “Where do you plan to put the scroll?”

“Somewhere safe,” the angel said vaguely.

“Nowhere is safe for something like this,” Cas said, shaking the book at Aziraphale. 

Crowley leaned back in his chair and looked around his angel. “There’s one safe place in all of creation for that,” he answered. “And only one being holds the key. Nothing could get in without him knowing.”

“I am sure She could get in if She wanted,” Aziraphale added. “But the walls are unbreachable and the gates have stood sealed for six thousand years."

"I breached those walls," Crowley pointed out.

Aziraphale twisted to better see the demon behind him. "Yes, my dear," he admitted. "I felt when you entered the garden but there was so much life there that I did not realize you did not belong." He turned back to the hunters. "But that is not a problem now. The animals were set free when Adam and Eve were cast out."

"Eden," Sam breathed the word softly.

"Eden was destroyed," Cas said firmly. 

"It was not," Aziraphale explained. "Once the gates were sealed,  Eden was removed from the physical plane of existence but it still remains in the metaphysical realm."

"You can't enter the metaphysical realm," Cas pointed out. "The power required to get there is astronomical and would likely destroy a physical body."

"Not necessarily," Aziraphale said. "Crowley and I have both been to the metaphysical realm and returned unharmed. We could take the scroll and book to Eden to intern them."

"You want to take both?" Dean asked surprised.

"Yes," Aziraphale said. "I do not believe the spell can be activated from a copy, but we can not leave a record if its existence for someone to find. If the wrong people get their hands on the book, they may go looking for the scroll. Eden is only safe because no one remembers it’s there."

"But you remember it's there?" Sam asked.

"Of course I do," Aziraphale said. "I helped lift it off Earth and I am still the Guardian of the Eastern Gate."

"So how do we find it?" Sam asked.

" We don't," Crowley said pointedly. "Aziraphale and I find it. Humans were cast out of the Garden and forbidden to return."

Dean's jaw clenched in anger. "You're not taking the scroll without us."

Crowley rose from his chairs like a snake getting ready to strike. "What part of forbidden do you not get?"

"You are not taking the scroll without us," Dean declared again.

Aziraphale raised his hand to stop Crowley from arguing with Dean. "Adam and Eve were not cast out of Eden for eating the fruit."

"Yes they were," Dean snapped.

"No they weren't," Cas corrected. "They were denied the fruits of the Garden and punished for eating from the Tree of Knowledge, but they were cast out to prevent them from taking from the Tree of Life."

"Correct," Aziraphale agreed. "As long as we do not take from the Garden, I can not see the Almighty having a problem with a short visit."

Crowley turned to face his angel. "Are you sure about this, Angel? You know what will happen if you're wrong."

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and let it out in a deep sigh. "I do not see another choice. I do not want to take the scroll against their will, but they do not trust us enough to give it freely."

Crowley glared at the hunters and their angel. "We're trustworthy," he snarled.

"My dearest love," Aziraphale said in a soothing tone. "Do you trust them?"

Crowley glared at Aziraphale for a minute before looking at the Winchesters. They had become friends, but did he really trust them? He finally huffed at them. "No," he growled.

"Then why would you expect them to trust us?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley glowered and huffed, but gave in. "Fine," he huffed. "You can take um, but I'm not responsible for um."

The angle chuckled. "I would never dream of holding you responsible." There was a teasing note to the angel's words.

"Oi," Crowley snapped. He glared at the grinning angel.

Aziraphale ignored the irritated demon and turned back to Cas and the Winchesters. "Have you decided?"

Cas turned at looked at the brothers. There was a moment of silent communication before the angle turned back to Aziraphale. 

"We will allow you to take the scroll and book to Eden," Castiel proposed. "If, we can come along to make sure they are safe."

Aziraphale licked his lower lip. "I will allow Sam and Dean to come, but I will have to ask you to stay behind."

"If Cas doesn't go, we don't go," Dean snapped.

Cas held his hand out to stop Dean from going on. "Why?"

"How long have you been in you vessel?" Aziraphale asked.

Cas thought about it for a moment. "A few years."

"Do you think that form will contain your essence in the metaphysical realm?" Aziraphale inquired.

This made Cas stop and think. He was comfortable in his vessel, but he wasn't sure if his physical form would contain all of his Grace as the metaphysical world tried to draw it out. He considered Crowley and Aziraphale. "Won't you have the same problems?" he asked. 

"Crowley and I have been in the same form for over six thousand years," Aziraphale informed him. "We will be unable to hide our wings, but our corporations were made with physical representations that hold our Grace." He let his wings unfurl behind him to show Castiel. "It is perfectly safe for us to be around your humans."

Castiel gaped at Aziraphale's wings. They were unlike anything he had ever seen on an angel. "What are you?" he asked.

Aziraphale reached into his pocket and pulled out his pen. Twisting his wrist down, he let the sword slip into reality without taking it from its sheath. "We are the Guardians of Earth. Appointed by the Almighty herself." He held the sword out so Cas could read the inscription on the pommel. 

Cas stared at the white disk with black writing around the edge in awe. Aziraphale had told him the were Earth's guardians, but he thought it was more of a self declared job and not an actual Appointed position. He looked back up to the angel and then to the demon. Crowley had let his dark wings, sprinkled with stardust, slip into reality. He leaned on his staff. It was almost too much for Castiel to handle. "Yeah," he said, breathlessly. "I'll stay here."

“No,” Dean snapped. “He goes.” 

Cas drew in a deep breath and turned to argue with the stubborn human. Dean’s shoulders were set in such a way that Cas knew this was going to take awhile.

Chapter Text

Nearly three hours later, Castiel had finally convinced Sam and Dean to allow him to stay behind. Dean was still not happy with the decision, but none of them could come up with a way for Cas to contain his Grace in the metaphysical plane. 

“So how are we going to do this?” Sam asked Aziraphale. 

“First we will need a box,” the angel said. He turned to face Crowley. “Do you have enough of Her gift left to make us something?”

Crowley crossed his arms, irritated. “I was saving that,” he grumbled.

Aziraphale gave him a pleading look and Crowley caved.

“Okay, yes, fine,” the demon snapped. He got up from his chair and let out his wings. He plucked a feather from his wing. “I need a feather,” he said to his angel. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said in surprise. “Of course.”  He let out his wings and turned so Crowley could choose. 

The demon ran his fingers over his angel’s wing and pulled a feather loose. He next turned to the hunters. “I need a hair from each of you.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

Crowley glared at him over his glasses. “If you don’t want to add something to the scroll’s protection, that’s fine by me, but you were the ones that didn’t trust us to guarded it in the first place,” he said sarcastically. 

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm before he could yell at the demon. “No,” he said quickly. “We’ll add whatever you want.” He reached up, plucked a strand of hair from his head, and held it out. “Will this do?” 

“Yes,” Crowley said, taking Sam’s hair. He turned to Dean and cocked a challenging eyebrow. 

Dean glared at the demon and ripped out a hair of his own. “Here,” he said as he shoved it at the demon.

“You’re too kind,” Crowley sassed with an unpleasant smile that fell away from his face as soon as he turned away from the hunters.

“What about Cas?” Dean asked looking over at his angel.

“Not including him,” Crowley said as he laid the hairs on his palm with the feathers. 

“Why not?” Dean demanded. 

Crowley sneered at the hunter, but answered. “He doesn’t have traditional feathers and I will not add essence from a borrowed vessel to this.” He gave Cas a calculating look. “And he ain’t got the Grace to spare.”

“No,” Cas agreed. “I need everything I have for the war.”

“Anymore objections?” Crowley asked, pointing his attention at Dean.

Irritated by the demon, Dean clenched his jaw. “No,” he growled. He did not like leaving Castiel out, but Crowley had a point.  

“Crowley,” Aziraphale prompted. “If you please?”

The demon nodded. He gave Dean one last questioning look over his glasses.

Still unhappily, Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to protest again.

Crowley nodded and turned his attention to the items in his palm. He held his hand close to his chest and placed his other hand over it, palm to palm, so his fingers touched his opposite wrists. He tipped his head forwards in concentration. A silverish glow formed between the demon’s hands. His wings quivered with the effort.

Aziraphale stepped closer and placed his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I’ve got you, my dear.”

Crowley nodded slightly and focused on his task.

The light in the demon’s hands grew as he spread them apart. 

“Is that…” Cas gasped as the hunters watched the demon pull the silver light into something long enough to hold the scroll. He could not believe what he was seeing.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said as he gripped the demon’s shoulder tightly.

When the silvery light dulled, the demon was left holding a golden casket. He staggered in exhaustion, but Aziraphale’s grip kept him on his feet. 

“That’s impossible,” Cas gasped. 

“It is not impossible,” Aziraphale said as he guided Crowley down into one of the chairs. He took the golden box from the demon’s hands and set it on the table. “Crowley was…” He shot the demon a look before changing what he was going to say. “...a Maker before his Fall.”  Turning the key, Aziraphale opened the box and fit the scroll down inside the carefully formed velvet interior. 

“But it is,”Cas continued. “You can’t pull something like that,” he waved at the elaborate box, “out of nothing.”

“It was not pulled out of nothing,” Aziraphale corrected. “It was made out of a few feathers, some hair, and a rather sizable chunk of chaos.” He held his hand out for the book.

Sam gave it up.

“Most of what I had left,” Crowley complained now that he’d caught his breath. “I was saving that for somefin important.”

Aziraphale placed the book in on top of the scroll and closed the lid. “I think making an indestructible box to protect the scroll that could destroy the world would count as something important.”

“Ngh,” Crowley waved Aziraphale’s words away. “I was think’n a gift for you. Like a new jacket.”

Aziraphale huffed and tugged at his coat sleeves. “There is nothing wrong with my coat. I’ve kept it in tip top shape for nearly two hundred years.”

“And that’s what’s wrong with your jacket,” Crowley said with a teasing grin. “It’s two hundred years old. Thing should be in a museum.”

Aziraphale tutted at the teasing demon. “I am sure you will be able to find a fine gift even if you can not make it yourself. You always choose the most amazing presents.” He raised a warning eyebrow at the demon. “And my coat is off limits.” He turned back to the casket and locked it. He drew the heavy, golden key out of the lock and held it out towards the demon.

Crowley nodded towards Dean.

Aziraphale nodded and presented the key to Dean. “For you.” He held it out for the hunter to take. 

Curiosity filled Dean’s eyes as he took the key from Aziraphale’s hand. A long cord miracled itself onto the end of the key as it slipped free.

“I suggest you keep it close,” the angel said as he stepped back.

“There is only one key to this box,” Crowley informed them. “Don’t lose it and don’t give it away. Should someone try to open the box, the key will pulse. You have our numbers,” the demon waved his hand at Dean, putting their contact into their phones, “call us and we will come.”

“Okay,” Dean said as he knotted the ends of the cord together and slipped the necklace over his head. 

“So when do we leave?” Sam asked. 

Crowley let out a bark of laughter. “When do we leave,” he mocked. He looked over his glasses at the taller brother. “The metaphysical realm isn’t someplace you can just pop off to for a picnic. It takes time and planning if you want to survive.”

“The metaphysical realm is not for the faint of heart,” Aziraphale agreed. “But I feel you boy can handle it. Come.” Turning towards the back of the library, he pulled in his wings and headed to the back entry. “Show me your hunting gear and I will help you choose what you might need.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look and hurried after the departing angel. 

Crowley wrenched his wings in, leaned up against the table, and kicked his feet up on the other chair. He looked up at Castiel. “So, how good are these boys?”

Castiel drew in a deep breath and let it out. “They’ve only died a few times.”

Crowley let out an unhappy laugh. “Well there goes my pardon in Hell.”

Chapter Text

An electric buzz hits Dean in the chest, startling a cry from the hunter.  He dropped the knife he’d been pulling out of the impala’s trunk and scrambled in his shirt for whatever what stinging him. 

“Dean?” Sam asked looking at his brother’s frantic movement. 

Dean’s fingers closed on the zapping object and he ripped it out of his shirt. It took him a moment to register what it was. “The key,” he gasped and looked up at his brother. 

“The box,” Sam gasped. The brothers stared at each other for a heartbeat before grabbing weapons and racing from the room.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale cried and chased after them, fumbling for his pen.

Sam burst into the library and paused. Both Castiel and Crowley laid slumped on the floor, but he couldn’t see what had taken them down. 

“Cas!” Dean cried as soon as his eyes found the downed angel. He raced to his friend’s side.

Sam turned his attention to the box. The duck was perched on top of it. Sam leveled his gun and slowly squeezed the trigger.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped as he burst into the room behind the hunter. 

Startled by the angel’s outburst, Sam’s gun jerked up just a hair, missing his target. 

The duck squaked frantically, flapped away from the box, and flew out into the war room.

Cursing at the missed shot, Sam took off after the duck. He raced down the steps and stopped. The duck was nowhere to be seen. He moved around the room with his back to the wall hoping to find some sign of the waterfowl, but it looked like the creature had vanished into thin air. Giving up the chase, he came back into the library to find Dean had pulled Cas into his arms and was patting the side of his face. 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked, crouching down next to his brother. 

“I can’t wake him up,” Dean said as he clutched Castiel to him. 

Standing up, Sam went to where Aziraphale was holding Crowley against him. The angel had pulled Crowley’s glasses off and was stroking his face. 

“Is he hurt?” Sam asked. He still had his gun cupped and ready for another attack. 

“I do not think so,” Aziraphale said as he petted the demon. “It looks like he is just sleeping.”

“Then why is he still asleep?” Sam asked. He stood up and looked around for signs of danger. 

“I think he is bespelled,” The angels said. He pulled the demon further into his arms and spoke softly. “Crowley, my dear. It is time to wake up.” He brushed his fingers through the demon’s hair but nothing changed. “Please, you’re scaring me.” Real worry was slipping into the angel’s voice.

Crowley moaned a little but didn’t wake. 

“Hang on,” Sam said as he shoved his gun into the back of his pants. “I have some books on spells and hexes. There might be something on sleeping spells.”

Aziraphale snapped and miracled a pillow next to him. He slipped it under Crowley’s head and stood up. “Let me help you,” he said, following Sam to the book cases. “I am very good with research.”

Sam pulled several books from the shelves and piled them into Aziraphale’s arms. “Start with those.” He turned back and pulled several more off the shelves. They took the books back to the table to pour through.

Carefully laying Cas down, Dean came over to join them. 

***

“Is this it?” Dean asked, holding the book out for Sam to see. His brother ripped it from his hand. 

“It could be,” Sam said, reading over the spell. He showed it to Aziraphale.

“I’ve heard of this spell,” Aziraphale said, reading the short passage. “Do you really think the answer could be that easy?” They had been at the books for thirty minutes, but this looked like the most promising answer.  

Sam shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, still stretched out on the floor. The demon has a habit of thrashing when he slept by himself, but he had been unusually still. “Let us see,” the angel said. He strode over to the unconscious demon and knelt on the floor. He pulled the limp form up to lean against him. Aziraphale let the demon’s head lull back. “Come on, my dearest. Wake up.” He slipped his hand into the hair at the back of the demon’s head and placed a gentle kiss to his thin lips. 

The demon’s eyes fluttered and his hand came up to grip the sleeve of Aziraphale’s coat. 

Aziraphale pulled back from the kiss and looked down into the serpent’s golden eyes. They were hazy with sleep, but seemed all right otherwise.

“Mornin, Angel,” the demon mumbled. He yawned wide. “Had the weirdest dream. Was sitting here with Cas, watching a scroll that could destroy the world when a duck came in and told us to go to sleep.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That may have been exactly what happened.” He looked over to where Cas was still laid out on the floor asleep.

Crowley tipped his head back so he could see the sleeping angel. “Well, that’s a problem.”

Aziraphale helped the demon to sit up. “Are you sure you are all right?”

Crowley stretched. “Yeah,” he said surprised. “Actually, I feel pretty good.” He got up from the floor with a bit of extra spring in his step. “What happened?”

“Dean felt the key for the box buzz,” Sam explained. “So we came back to find you and Cas asleep and the duck sitting on the box.”

“Just sitting on the box?” Crowley asked. He walked over and rested his hand on top of the box. He turned and looked at Dean. “Can you feel that?” 

Dean placed his hand over the key, but there was no biting energy in it. “No,” he said. 

Crowley touched the lock. “How about now?”

A sharp zap hit Dean’s hand. “Yes,” the hunter gasped as he jerked his hand away from the key.

“Interesting,” Crowley said, looking at the box.

“What are we going to do about Cas?” Dean snapped.

Crowley clicked his fingers and miracled his glasses up from the floor. “I suggest you do whatever you did for me.” Turning, he slipped his glasses on and leaned his hip against the table. 

“Well,” Aziraphale said as he stood up from the floor. “I have already given my kiss today. It is someone else’s turn.”

Everyone turned to Dean.

The hunter stared back in shock. “What?” he barked. “You expect me to kiss him?”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth turned up in glee. “He is your angel.”

Dean turned to glare at Sam. “He’s your angel, too.”

The glee bent Sam’s face too. “Maybe, but he doesn’t answer my prayers the way he answers yours."

“He’s my friend,” Dean yelled. “Doesn’t mean I want to kiss him.”

“You do,” Crowley corrected.

Dean shot the demon a death glare.

“There is nothing wrong with kissing your friends when they need it,” Aziraphale said in a soothing tone as he approached Dean and touched his upper arm. “Your friend needs it right now. Are you going to leave him in need?”

Dean met the angel’s pleading eyes. “Ughhh,” he said in anguish. He rolled his eyes, letting his head follow in a full body gesture of exasperation. “Fine,” he snapped, pulling away from the angel’s hand. “But don’t you dare say anything about this.” He glared at the three peopleish beings in the  room. “None of you.”

“I would not dare,” Aziraphale said, backing up to stand with his demon.

Sam made a motion as if he was locking his mouth shut.

Crowley leaned close to Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’d forgotten how good you were at temptations, Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled at him. “I learned from the best.” He gave his demon a light kiss. 

Dean glared at them, but turned his attention to Cas. He hated to think the angel has manipulated him, but that still didn’t change what he needed to do. Castiel was still unconscious and someone was going to need to kiss him.

Drawing up his courage, Dean knelt down next to the angel. He’d thought about kissing Cas in the past, but it was always a fleeting thought fueled by alcohol or relief at surviving another accident. Now that he was faced with the task, he didn’t know how to feel about it. He moved so he was on his hands and knees directly over the angel’s face. His eyes darted to the angel’s lips and he licked his own. A voice raced in the back of his mind. Would they be soft? He pushed that thought away and dropped his lips to his friend's.

He’d intended for it to be a quick peck, but once he’d made contact with that soft skin, he found he didn’t want to pull back. The kiss had started out simple and light. It was Cas’s fingers slipping into Dean’s hair and pulling the hunter closer that deepened the kiss. There was no telling how long the kiss would have gone on, but the catcalls from the demon ripped the hunter back to his senses. He threw himself back away from the angel, panting for breath. His kiss bruised lips tingled as he sat on the floor staring at Cas. 

Castiel rolled his head over and looked at the frantice hunter. “Dean?” His voice held a note of questioning in them. 

The hunter’s face burnt with the heat of his embarrassment. “I…” Dean started, but stopped. He was going to apologize, but found he didn’t want to. “I got to go,” he said instead. Scrambling to his feet, Dean raced from the room. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

***

Crowley leaned against the table watching the confused hunter race from the room, leaving a more confused angel to recover on his own. He leaned over to Aziraphale again. “Temptation accomplished,” he teased. 

“And wasn’t it lovely,” his bastard of an angel grinned back with a twinkle in his eye. 

Crowley sighed in delight. Yes, it was.

Chapter Text

"Aziraphale, can we talk?"

Aziraphale looked up from the messenger bag he was packing to find Castiel waiting for a response. Aziraphale hadn't spent much time around the other angel,  but he was clearly upset about something. "Of course, my dear," he said, pulling his attention from his bag and focusing on Castiel. "What can I do for you?"

"It's Dean," Cas said. "He's avoiding. I tried to ask Sam, but all he did was laugh."

"Ah," Aziraphale said, instantly understand the problem. "Were you trying to talk to Dean about the kiss?"

Cas cocked his head and a confused look crossed his face. "No," he explained. "I wanted to offer him my angel blade for the trip." Cas dropped his arm and let the thin silver blade slip out of his coat sleeve. He held it up for Aziraphale to see. "But he ran off before I could even offer it."

A warm smile covered Aziraphale's face. "A man after my own heart," he said fondly. He reached out and touched Cas's hand, guilding it down. "Hold on to your blade for now," he said. "The metaphysical realm may be filled with the Almighty's reject creatures, but I promise you, your humans will be safe. It will only be a quick flight from our landing site to Eden. Crowley and I can handle anything that might trouble us."

Cas gave him another confused look as he dropped his hand to his side. "But what about the supplies Sam and Dean have gathered." There was a whole mountain of camping and hunting gear piled in the garage waiting to be packed.

Aziraphale's face lit up with amusement. "Your boys have insisted on packing for the worst case scenario," he said. "I have told them what to expect, but they still insist on packing extra."

"What do you expect?" Cas asked.

"Well," Aziraphale started. "The trip shouldn't be too bad. Eden has stood empty for six thousand years, but its power has affected the desert around it. A jungle has grown up in the valley in front of the gate. We will land in the desert outside of that valley.

"The transition over will be the hardest. Crowley and I will not be affected much, but I suspect it will be terribly draining on the boys. We will wait in the desert for the Winchesters to recover before flying over the jungle to the Eastern Gate.

"Dealing with the gate will take some time, but I suspect the whole trip to only take a day or two."

"I see," Cas said. He still had a troubled look on his face. "But that doesn't answer my question about Dean. Why is he avoiding me?"

"That," Aziraphale said in a very knowing tone, "is a very human thing."

The confusion on Cas's face deepened.

"Dean is having troubles with his feelings," Aziraphale explained. "He loves you."

"I know that," Cas said. "He’s loved me for a while now. I can feel it.”

“But he doesn’t know it,” Aziraphale explained. 

“How can you love something and not know it?” Cas asked.

Aziraphale smiled. “Love is a complicated thing,” he explained. “Sometimes it starts out fast and hard, and you know right away that you love someone. Sometimes it starts out imperceivable and grows over time. Often times it takes a monumental event to make one realize they are in love. I suspect Dean’s love for you is the second and the kiss you shared may have been the moment he realized he was in love. Give him time to sort through his feelings, he will come around. I know I did.”

Cas considered this. “What was the event for you?”

Memories flooded Aziraphale and he smiled. “Crowley dropped a bomb on a church and saved a bag of books. Still took me eighty years to come around and admit my feelings.”

“Dean doesn’t have eighty years,” Cas said in a worried tone.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “Thankfully humans move much faster than I, and Dean does not have to worry about hiding his love from Heaven and Hell.” He reached up and touched Castiel on the upper arm. “Just give him time and be there for him when he needs you. That is all you can do until he is ready to admit how he feels.”

“All right,” Cas agreed. He took his sword and shoved it up his sleeve where it belonged. “I will wait for him.”

Aziraphale dropped his hand away from the other angel. “I suspect you will not have to wait too long,” he said, turning back to his satchel. “He seems like a man that is quick to make decisions.”

Cas snorted out a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Cas. “Impulsive?”

“To a fault,” Cas agreed.

Aziraphale turned back to his bag. “Then not long at all.”

Chapter Text

“Are we ready?” Aziraphale asked. He hitched up the strap on his messenger bag so it rode better on his hip. 

Both Sam and Dean shift their backpacks, making sure they were settled properly. The internal frame packs were miraculously light for the astonishing amount of supplies Aziraphale had helped them crammed inside. 

“I think so,” Sam said as he patted down his weapons to make sure they were secure but easily accessible. 

Dean looked up at Cas, blushed, and looked away again. Memories of their shared kiss rushed through his mind. He’d been avoiding the angel, unable to sort out his own feelings for his friend, but Cas has stayed to see them off. Swallowing down his mixed emotions, Dean looked up to his friend. He did not know what to say.

Thankfully Cas did. “Good luck,” the angel said. “If you get into trouble, call me. I’ll find you.”

A wobbly smile bent Dean’s face. “Thanks.” He turned away from his friend to face Aziraphale. “Let’s go.”

“All right,” Aziraphale agreed. He moved to stand close in front of the brothers. Reaching out, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and drew them together. “Traveling between realms is not pleasant,” he warned. “Hold on to me and I will do my best to shield you from the shock of the transition.” Unfurling his wings, Aziraphale drew the brother closer and laid his arms up over their shoulders. “You will need to hold on tight for this.”

The brother’s wrapped one arm over each other’s shoulder and one around Aziraphale’s back below his wings. 

The angel brought his wings up around the brothers so the were wrapped in his feathers, much the same way he had protected Dean from the Hellfire. 

Crowley stepped up behind the brothers and wrapped the huddled group in his wings. “Last chance,” the demon said, offering the brothers an out.

Aziraphale glanced at the two hunters, but neither of them looked like they were going to back out. He looked up to meet Crowley’s gaze through his glasses. “When you are ready,my dear,” he said.

Crowley nodded. “Deep breath and hold it,” he warned.

All four of them drew in a final deep breath and held it.

Drawing up his power, Crowley ripped their little group out of reality. It has the same sensation of being squeezed out of a frozen toothpaste tube. Sam and Dean both made pained noises, but the crush of feathers against them kept out the soul sucking cold found between realms.

After a moment of excruciating discomfort, their feet landed on soft sand. The trip had sucked the strength from their limbs and their legs buckled underneath them. Both of the hunters went down taking the angel with them. Aziraphale cried out in pain as Sam landed on top of his wing, bending it awkwardly with a sicking pop. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped as the group dropped out from under his wings. He yanked his feathers back just in time to see his angel’s free wing flap around, rolling the angel to his back. Sam still laid on the other, but the new position eased the unnatural bend in the wing. The demon grabbed Sam by the shoulder strap of his pack and lifted him off Aziraphale. 

Now free, the angel rolled away from the hunters so his wing hung more naturally over top of him. 

Crowley dropped Sam back to the sand and jumped over the hunters to where his angel was curled on his side in pain. “Aziraphale?” he asked, looking at the wing that had been pinned. His fingers gently ran the length of the long bone in the angel’s wing. “You ok?”

“It hurts,” the angel gasped in pain. 

“Where?” Crowley asked as he searched his love’s wing. 

“The wrist,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley’s fingers probed carefully into the main joint of the wing earning him a cry of pain. He pulled his fingers back and looked at the misaligned joint. “I think it’s dislocated.”

Aziraphale huffed in a few shallow breaths before answering. “Can you reset it?”

Crowley considered the damage. He knew how to fix it, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Yesss,” he hissed, not liking his options. “Hold tight,” he said. He looked at the two hunters. Sam was still down, but Dean had started to recover. Striding over to the older brother, Crowley unhooked the backpack. “Come help me,” he demanded.

Still unstable, Dean struggled out of the pack and let Crowley haul him to his feet. “What happened?” His mind wasn’t making much sense of the mass of white Crowley steered him towards. 

“Your brother landed on Aziraphale’s wing,” Crowley explained. “Got to put it back in place before it starts to heal.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed as he finally realized the cream colored object was Aziraphale. “Tell me what to do.”

Crowley pushed Dean to the ground next to the top edge of the wing. He guided the hunter’s fingers into the lesser coverts to the grip the bone above the damaged wrist. “Hold that tight.”

Dean nodded and sunk his grip into the muscle along the edge. 

Aziraphale whimpered in pain, but did not protest the touch. 

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Crowley said softly as he moved to the leading edge of the wing below the wrist. “This is going to hurt.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard, but nodded his head. “Do it.”

Dragging up his courage, Crowley gripped the wing and gave it a hard pull and shake. 

Aziraphale screamed as the bone popped back into place. 

Crowley let the wing slip from his fingers as it folded up normally. He touched Dean’s shoulder, drawing him away from the injured limb. Kneeling in the sand, Crowley gently touched the damaged wrist.  Relief filled his heart. There was heat in the joint, but it felt like it had gone back in place properly. The demon shifted closer to the angel’s head so he could sink his fingers in the angel’s unruly curls. “Aziraphale?” he said softly.

After a moment, Aziraphale tipped his head back to look up at the demon.

“Is there anything else that hurts?”

The angel shook his head before reaching up and wiping his tears with the sleeve of his coat. “No,” he whimpered and relaxed back to the sand.

Crowley petted his head a few more times before leaning over and kissing the angel’s temple. “Just relax for a bit. I’ll see to the Winchesters.”

Aziraphale sighed heavily, but did not move. Things were not starting out well.

Chapter Text

The bright flames of the small campfire pushed back the darkness of the other world. Sam, Dean, and Crowley sat around the fire, evenly spaced as they finished up their meal. Aziraphale laid on the ground behind Crowley. The curve of his hips pressed into the demon’s back as his wing stretched out behind him. The injured wing rested against the cool sand, relaxed and healing. The demon’s wings stretched out over the angel, keeping him warm from the cool night air.

“So what now?” Dean asked as he crumpled up his wrapper and tossed it into the fire. Their plans of flying to Eden were smashed the moment Sam had landed on Aziraphale’s wing. They all sat there quiet for a few minutes.

“We could try to fly to Eden in the morning,” Aziraphale suggested, showing the foolish determination of a soldier that knows a task is impossible.

“No,” Crowley snapped. He reached down and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand from where it lay in the sand. “If you stress that joint before it’s healed, you could cripple your wing.”

Shame made Sam squirm. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. 

“It is not your fault, my dear boy,” Aziraphale said. “Accidents happen.”

“It’s just our luck,” Dean grumbled. 

Crowley glared at the hunters over his glasses, but did say anything. Which, in itself, was surprising since he still blames Sam for hurting his angel. He let the comment go and thought about their predicament. “It would take me a couple of trips, but I could fly us to the gate,” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale shook his head. “No,” he refused. “It is too dangerous to split up the party like that. Besides, you can not carry me while my wings are out.”

“Point,” Crowley agreed and let the idea drop. 

Sam looked out into the dark in the direction of Eden. He couldn’t see the wall or forest now that it was dark, but the sight had been impressive in the day. “How far is it?” he asked.

“It’s about a four day walk from here,” Crowley explained. “And that’s if we don’t get eaten by the animals.”

“The forest is very dangerous,” Aziraphale agreed.  

“Do you have any better ideas?” Dean asked.

The fire popped and crackled as they waited for someone to come up with something else. 

“It looks like we’re walking,” Dean said when no one spoke up. 

Aziraphale sighed. He wove his fingers into Crowley’s and rubbed his thumb over the demon’s skin in a soothing motion. “Crowley and I will do what we can to protect you,” the angel explained. “But the forest is filled with all the things deemed too dangerous to let loose on Earth. Everything the human imagination has come up with and more can be found in those woods.”

“We’ve faced worse,” Dean added. 

“I doubt it,” Crowley sassed. “There are things in there that can kill you by looking at you.”

“Only a few of the creatures are truly dangerous,” Aziraphale added before the Dean could start arguing with the demon. “It is best to stay on your guard and not touch anything without asking.”

“All right,” Sam agreed for both of them. He looked at the way Aziraphale laid on the sand, still feeling bad for hurting him. “Are you going to be up for this?”

Aziraphale gave him a gentle smile. “I’ll be right as rain come morning.”

“No he won’t,” Crowley snapped. “He’s going to be in terrible pain for the next couple of days, but he isn’t going to tell anyone about it.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale fussed. 

Crowley glared down at his angel. “Tell me I’m lying.”

Aziraphale huffed at the demon but turned his attention to Sam. “I’ll be fine. Absolutely tickety-boo.”

The fact the angel didn’t answer Crowley’s challenge and used a contraction spoke much to the angel’s condition, but Sam let it go. He knew about putting up a good front to get through hard times. “Well, if there is anything I can do to help, just let me know,” he offered. 

Aziraphale’s smile warmed. “I will,” he promised. “As for right now, we should all get some rest. We have a long way to go and I would like to get an early start if possible.”

“You all sleep,” Crowley ordered. “I’ll stand guard for the night.”

Aziraphale petted the demon’s arm. “Thank you, my love.”

Crowley pulled his hand free of Aziraphale’s and ruffled the angel’s hair. “Sleep now, Angel,” he ordered. “I’ve got you.”

The angel made a contented noise and allowed himself to relax into sleep. 

Crowley looked up to the hunters. “Get your asses to bed too, before I have to put you there.”

The brothers exchanged a look, but did what they were told without argument. It was clear the demon was still pissed about the angel’s injuries. He was probably going to be techy for the next few days.

Chapter Text

The morning was unbearable. Crowley has spent the night guarding over Aziraphale and it was obvious the demon was tired. He snipped and snapped at everything. He was so over protective of Aziraphale and his injured wing, that the demon almost didn’t let him up from the ground. It had taken most of Aziraphale’s endless patience to convince Crowley that getting up from the sand wasn’t going to injure him more, but, even then, the demon wouldn’t let him actually do anything.

“I’m not an invalid,” Aziraphale fussed. “I can get up and help.” He tried to get up from the sand.

“No,” Crowley barked and rushed over to make sure Aziraphale didn’t get up. “You’re hurt and need to rest.”

Aziraphale glared at him, his well of patience starting to run dry. “I have rested,” he snapped. “All night.” He pushed the demon’s hand from his shoulder and got up. “If I rest anymore we will not make it to Eden.”

Crowley fussed again and took Aziraphale’s bag. “Fine, but Sam’s carry this,” he growled. “He hurt you.”

The last of Aziraphale’s patience snapped. “You,” he barked sharply and pointed at Crowley. 

Crowley froze at the sound. This wasn’t the angel’s normal voice. It had too many notes in it to be made by human vocal cords. The demon looked up at the angel, afraid of what he would see. Aziraphale still looked like himself, but there was a more ethereal quality to him. His hair and wings glowed slightly and his eyes flashed with power. “Aziraphale, I…” he started.

“No,” the angel snapped. “Noodle. Now.” He took the finger he’d pointed at the demon flicking it to the ground.

Shock flashed across Crowley’s face before he shrunk down into his snake form and plopped onto the sand. 

Aziraphale rushed forwards and fished the snake out of the pile of clothing. His hands were firm, but gentle as he lifted the snake up and stared at it in the face. “I’ve had quite enough of your attitude this morning,” the angel admonished. “You have been nothing but a pain to everyone. Yes, I am hurt, but I am not incapable of doing my part, and you will stop treating me as such. And while I appreciate you keeping watch through the night, it is obvious you need a kip.” He flipped the snake up over his head and pulled it around his neck like a scarf. “Stay there until you’ve had a nice long nap and can at least pretend to be decent again.” 

Crowley scrunched himself up and hissed, but did not move from Aziraphale’s shoulders.

Ignoring the tetchy snake, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Crowley’s clothing folded up inside his bag. The angel picked the demon’s glass up and tucked them in his pocket. He took the bag and held it up to his hip. He threw the strap up his back and it wove itself between the angel’s wing and over his shoulder before falling to his hip where he could buckle the strap. Pulling his pen out, he shook it into its sword shape and attached the scabbard to his hip. He took a moment to check the draw before scooping up Crowley’s bag and slipping it inside his already stuffed satchel. Once that was done, he picked up Crowley’s staff and turned to the hunters.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a clipped tone. His voice hadn’t returned to normal yet, but it wasn’t the full angelic cord he’d used with Crowley.

“Yeah,” Dean said, scrambling to shove his shoulders into this pack’s straps. “We’re good.” He clipped the waist strap closed and pulled the strap tight.

“Good,” Aziraphale said bluntly. He waved at the remains of the fire, vanishing it. “This way.” He turned towards the valley and started off without waiting for the hunters.

Dean slowly turned his head to look at his brother with wide eyes. 

Sam was halfway into his pack and staring at the angel in shock.

“Remind me not to piss him off,” Dean said as he started after Aziraphale.

Sam snapped into action and pulled his pack all the way on. “Yeah,” he said as he snapped his straps into place and hurried to catch up with his brother. “I’d hate to see what he would do if he really got mad.”

***

Aziraphale leaned on Crowley’s staff as he picked his way down the loose sand. His wing throb under its own weight, but that pain paled in comparison to the ache in his heart. His anger had cooled leaving him regretting his actions. He and Crowley often fought over things, but it was very rare that he ever blew up at the demon. He was ashamed he had done so now. Especially after the demon had taken such good care of him. 

He let out a long sigh and tipped his head over to press his cheek into the snake’s cool scales. “Crowley,” he said softly.

The snake hissed and thrashed its tail.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale admitted. “You have done your best to take care of me through this ordeal. It was wrong of me to loose my temper and yell at you. Can you forgive me?”

Slowly, the angry tension that had been racking the snakes body eases and the demon relaxed around Aziraphale's shoulders. "Yesss," he finally hissed.

A smile eased its way across Aziraphale's face. "Thank you, my love," he said, moving to deposit a kiss to the top of the demon's head. "I am a touch more irritable than normal," he admitted. 

Crowley slithered around the angel's neck into a more comfortable position. "Imagine that," he hissed with a snaky snark.

Aziraphale chuckled. "You can't blame me much," he teased. "You were being a rather surly serpent this morning."

Crowley wiggled his tongue in what passed as a raspberry in this snake form. The tip tickles the angle along the jaws. 

The angel giggled and stroked his hand down the snake's back. "I am also sorry I ordered you to shift like that," he admitted and looked around at the desert. "Especially here." He didn't see any dangers, but there was no telling what was around. "Would you like me to stop so you can shift back?"

Raising his head, Crowley looked around. The desert was open all the way to the forest's edge. "No," Crowley admitted. "I am a ssssurly ssserpent and I could ussse a nap." He relaxed back to the angel's should.

"Very well," Aziraphale agreed. "Shall I wake you when we get to the forest?"

Crowley hissed his agreement and raised up to bop the angel's cheek with his snout in a snakey kiss. Laying back down. He tucked his head into the angel's collar and let himself relax under the gentle strokes of the angel's fingers.

Aziraphale sighed under the comfortable weight of his demon. His heart was lighter and that, in itself, made the pain in his wing more bearable. Now he had to find a way to apologize to the Winchesters for being so short with them. But that could wait until they stopped outside the forest. 

He glanced back to find the hunters lagging behind the strenuous pace he'd set in his anger, but they seemed to be holding their own. Aziraphale eased his stride to something more relaxing. They were all going to need to conserve their strength if they planned to make it to Eden in on piece.

Chapter Text

“Let’s break here for the day,” Aziraphale said as he stopped a few hundred feet from the edge of the forest.  

Sam and Dean both paused and looked at the cool shade of the forest just feet away. The sun had already past its zenith and was more than halfway to the horizon, but there was still plenty of day left. “Shouldn’t we go on?” Dean asked.

Aziraphale unhooked his bag and dropped it to the ground. “No,” he said, turning to the hunters. “We have come a long way today and deserve a rest.” He turned back to the forest. “Besides, Crowley is still asleep and I am not quite ready to face the forest yet.”

Sam and Dean both looked at the woods and considered at the ominous darkness already gathering under the trees. It made them both shiver. Neither of them wanted to head off into those woods right now.

“We’ll tackle that in the morning,” Dean agreed. He unclipped his pack and swung it to the ground.  It had already been a very long day.

Chapter Text

The morning sun shone through the high canopy making the woods seem bright and alive. It was much better than the oppressive darkness that had gathered under the leave the night before. Dean was glad they waited for morning to start this leg of their trip.

Aziraphale led the way between the trees. While there was no real path, the angel seemed to know where he was going. 

Having been warned to be high alert, Sam and Dean both watch the forest around them as Crowley brought up the rear. So far they had seen nothing to worry.

Dean’s eyes swept back and forth over the forest floor. Every now and then something would catch the hunters eye but there was nothing worth noting besides the blue mushrooms scattered all over the area. Absentmindedly, he kicked one over with his toe to have a better look. It looked like any number of wild mushrooms back home, the only difference was the vibrant color. Shrugging he started to move on.

A sharp pain jabbed the hunter in the neck and he swung up and slapped it. His hand landed on something large. He cupped it and pulled it away from his neck. “Shit,” he cursed when he saw the thing in his hand.

“What?” Sam asked coming over to his brother.

“It’s a fucking fairy,” Dean said in disbelief. The small alien like creature was hairless with pale blue skin. Its long, twig like arms and legs were in contrast to its over sized head. For insect wings jutted out of its back. 

“A fairy?” Aziraphale asked, stopping in his tracks.

Dean held the thing out for the angel to see.

“Oh no,” Aziraphale said and came rushing back to Dean’s side. He took the small body from Dean’s hand. “What did you touch?” the angel asked. 

“Nothing,” Dean said defensively. “I was just walking behind you when the thing bit me.”

“The mushrooms,” Crowley said, coming up behind the group. “You kicked over a mushroom.” The demon pointed down to the damaged fungus.

“So,” Dean asked, rubbing the sore spot on his neck. It was really starting to hurt.

“The fairies are linked to the mushrooms,” Aziraphale said as he cupped the small creature between both of his hands. He breathed on it, healing the small body. The thing sat up and chattered at him angrily. “We are sorry,” the angel said to the small creature. “He did not mean to damage your home.” Aziraphale carried the small creature over to the mushroom. “We will fix it.” He held the fairy down as Crowley picked up the mushroom and miracled it back into place. 

The fairy chattered again and jumped up from Aziraphale’s hands. It flew up to Dean’s face and hissed before flying down to the mushroom and disappearing under the cap. 

Aziraphale stood up and faced the hunters. “Do not step on the mushrooms or flowers,” he warned. He turned his attention to Dean. “Let me see your neck.” Reaching up, the angel gripped Dean’s chin and turned his head to see the bite.  

Dean let the angel pull his head to the side. The side of his neck was starting to burn.

“Crowley,” the angel called. “Did you bring some salve?”

“Yeah,” the demon said, digging in his bag. He fished up a jar and held it out.

Aziraphale took the jar and twisted it open.

“What’s that?” Sam asked. The cream inside the jar was a bright purple. 

“Just an old time remedy to nullify fairy poison,” the angel explained. “It is a mixture of rowan, thyme, hawthorn, elderberries, and verain.” He stuck his finger in the jar, scooped up a glob of the mixture, and smeared it on the bite. “Unfortunately it’s highly hallucinogenic.”

“ What ,” Dean gasped. He moved to wipe the salve away, but Aziraphale swatted at his hand. 

“Leave it alone,” Aziraphale ordered. “Death by fairy bite is not a pretty thing.” He twisted the cap back on the jar and looked at Sam. “Normally I would suggest that we stop, but we have too far to go. Can you watch him?”

“Yes,” Sam agreed.

Aziraphale nodded and held out the jar for Sam to take. “Make sure you reapply the salve every hour for the next twelve hours, and for goodness sake, keep him from stepping on any more mushrooms.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he took the jar of cream.

Shaking his head, Aziraphale started back through the forest again. 

Sam sighed at his brother. “Come on,” he growled, pushing Dean into motion. 

Dean gave his brother a dirty look, but turned to follow the angel.

Crowley snickered as he fell into line behind Sam. “Oh this is going to be fun.”

Chapter Text

“Sammy,” Dean called over his shoulder.

“What, Dean?” Sam answered.

"That stuff's supposed to cause hallucinations, right?" Dean asked.

"The salve?" the younger hunter asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered looking around him.

"Yes," Sam confirmed. "Why?"

“How do I know if what I’m seeing is real?” the older brother asked. It had only been an hours since Aziraphale had first put the salve on the fairy bite and Dean wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Sam let out a deep sigh. “Tell me what you see and I’ll tell you if it’s real.”

Dean looked at the long vines climbing up the trees. “The vines,” he said. “The flowers on the vines. They have teeth.”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam said calmly. “The flowers have teeth.”

Dean looked at the vines growing up the trees around them. All covered with thousands of buds the size of baseballs. Three rows of teeth lined the inside of each flower.

“Watch this,” Crowley said from behind the hunters. He picked a rock up from the ground and tossed it at one of the trees. It struck one of the buds and all the flowers reacted by gnashing their teeth and straining to pull the vine off the tree and onto whatever had touched it.

Both of the hunters paled at the horrible sight.

“Please don’t play with the flowers,” Aziraphale called over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Dean agreed as he hurried to catch up to the angel.

Crowley snickered and threw another rock as the trees.

Chapter Text

"Sammy?" Dean called over his shoulder.

"Yes, Dean?" his brother answered back.

Dean looked at the object floating in front of him. "I'm seeing bubbles."

"Bubbles?" Sam asked. 

"Pink bubbles," Dean said reaching up to the round object floating in front of him. It popped as soon as his finger touched it. "They're singing Queen."

"There are no pink bubbles singing Queen," Sam reassured his brother.

"Okay," Dean said trying to ignore the new bubble that floated into his vision. This one was yellow and was most definitely belting out Bohemian Rhapsody.

****

Sam did his best not to snicker as he turned around to see Crowley with a large bottle of bubble solution blowing more bubbles up the path.

The demon grinned and blew another bubble, making sure it it carried the same tune as the rest and was most definitely not pink.

Chapter Text

Dean's eyes caught movement in the underbrush and he stopped. His hand slipped to the gun in its holster. "Sam," he said quietly. He stared into the darkness and saw a strangely familiar sight. He pulled his gun and pointed it at the bush.

"What is it?" Sam asked, coming up close to his brother and looking at the shrub Dean had in his sights.

"It's there," he said pointing at the plant with his gun.

"What's there?" Sam asked, staring at the bush and not seeing what Dean saw.

Dean blinked a few times and lowered his gun as the silhouette disappeared. "It was there?"

"What did you see?" Crowley asked, coming up behind the brothers. He stared at the plant intently. 

"It’s the duck," Dean said moving closer to the now empty bush. 

Sam gave his brother a confused expression. “The one from the bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He cupped his gun, but did not put it away yet. “It was under the bush.”

Walking over, Crowley used his staff to lift the edge of the plant up. “It isn’t there now.”

“You’re seeing things again,” Sam reassured his brother. “Put your gun up.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed and holstered his weapon. He rubbed his tired eyes, he’d seen a lot of strange things in the few hours since Aziraphale used that cream on him. He was starting to question his sanity.

“Come on,” Sam said gently patting Dean’s arm. “There is no duck,” he reassured his brother. “It’s just the medicine.”

Dean gave the bush one last look before nodding and turning to follow Aziraphale. He paused one last time as a familiar sound met his ears, but he shook it away and hurried after the angel. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. He most certainly did not hear the gentle tones of duck laughter in the underbrush.

Chapter Text

Holding his cup of tea tightly, Dean stared at the small creature pushing out of the underbrush. He didn’t trust that his mind wasn’t making things up again. He leaned over towards his brother. “Sammy,” he said softly. 

Sam made some noise that told he was listening. 

“Do you see that?” he whispered, nodding to the small creature on the other side of the clearing.

Sam looked up and stared. His mouth hung open for a moment. “Yeah,” he said unable to believe his eyes. “I do.”

Dean looked at the foot tall creature on the other side of the clearing. It’s pure white coat and shining horn glittering in the dappled light. “Is that a unicorn?”

Crowley looked up to see the tiny creature. “Oi, Angel,” he called getting Aziraphale’s attention. “Shem didn’t bugger it up completely.”

The angel looked up from his thermos of tea. “Oh how splendid,” the angel cooed. Setting the cup he’d poured down, he reached into his bag and brought out a sugar cube. “Come here, darling.” The angel held the treat out to the tiny unicorn.

“Careful, Angel,” Crowley warned. “I remember how temperamental those things can be.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale said as the small horse like creature came closer. “Unicorns are amazing creatures.” 

The small unicorn let of a tentative whinny and tossed its head. It moved closer to the angel’s outstretched hand. After a few coaxing words from Aziraphale, the small creature closed the gap and took the cube from the angel’s hand.

“You are gorgeous,” Aziraphale said. Moving slowly, he gently stroked the unicorn down the side of the neck.

“Don’t unicorns travel in herds?” Crowley asked.

“They do, my dearest.” Aziraphale confirmed. He looked up to the underbrush where the unicorn had come from. “And I do believe that is the rest of her herd.”

Sam and Dean both looked over to find several white bodies drifting out of the undergrowth.

“Just be still and let them come to you,” Aziraphale cautioned as he stroked the unicorns white hide. “Unicorns startle easily and they are quick to defend.”

Crowley held out his hand, but the small creatures skittered away from him. “They don’t like demons much.”

“They can sense the evil in you,” Aziraphale explained.

Crowley scoffed. “I don’t see why they would come to you then, bastard that you are.”

The angel smirked at him. “I may be a bit of a bastard, but I am still an angel,” he said smugly. “Inherently good.”

Cowley blew a raspberry at his husband before turning his attention to the shocked brothers. “Watch out for the horns,” he warned “Full sized unicorns were quick to use them as weapons. Blasted buggers are sharp and magical. One scratch could do nasty things to a man.”

Sam and Dean watched as the herd of unicorns surrounded them. While the small creatures clustered around the angel, they gave Crowley and the brothers a wide berth. 

The demon considered the unicorns and their reaction to the brothers. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been to Hell?”

“More times than we would like,” Sam admitted. 

Some tugged on the back of Dean’s shirt. Without thinking about it, he reached back and brushed at the pull. A startled whinny met his ear. He hissed in pain as something sharp bit into his hand. Yanking his hand back to his front, he clenched it into a fist, trying to get the stinging to stop. A jagged line of red tore across his skin. He stared at the scrape. It was only a mild scrape that didn’t quite break the skin.

“Dean?’ Aziraphale asked. Hes wings shivered in worry. 

“We’re good,” the hunter said. “It’s not bleeding.” He twisted around just in time to see the startled unicorn paw the ground, lower its head, and ram it’s tiny horn into the fleshy part of his back. “Fuck!” He cursed as he swatted the creature away. He looked down at the break in his skin and the blood welling up.

Crowley cackled with glee. He shooed the angry unicorn away and looked at the wound on the hunter’s back. “Fuck is right!” He pulls his glasses down for a better look. “Aziraphale?” he called to the angel. “How well do you think unicorn magic will mix with fairy venom and that highly hallucinogenic healing salve?”

“Oh dear,” the angel answered.

Dean’s eyes widened. That couldn’t be good.

Chapter Text

The pillow under Dean’s head was just the right softness. It matched the fluffy blanket Aziraphale had miracled up. Neither were doing much to comfort the hunter at the moment.

Dean took deep even breaths as he tried to hang on to his sanity. The magic from the unicorn was not mixing well with whatever else was in his system, but he wasn’t going to let that slow down their trip. They had to get to Eden so that scroll could be protected. Well, that had been his thoughts and argument all the way up to the point where Aziraphale’s protests hung in the air. They literally hung in the air as the angel spoke them. In golden scrolling ink. Crowley’s words were badly written in purple glitter gel pen. It has been very surreal seeing there spoken words float in the air like that.

That was the point Dean decided he needed to lay down. 

No one argued.

But, back to where we started. Dean curled around his fluffy pillow under the warm blanket and watched as Crowley prepared a meal. 

It would have been interesting to watch as the demon pulled out pots and pans from his impossibly small bag and cook something, but that isn’t what happened. Instead, the demon pulled out a small round object, stood in the middle of the clearing with his wings spread wide, and started to sing.

“On top of spaghetti. All covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed!”

Dean watched as Crowley took the round object, now recognizable as a meatball, and waved it around. 

“It rolled off the table, and on to the floor. And then my poor meatball rolled out of the door,” the demon sang. He dropped the meatball to the ground and rolled it around. “It rolled in the garden, and under a bush. And then my poor meatball was nothing but mush.”

Dean looked at the meatball and saw that it was all crumbled up like mush. 

The demon sang on. “That mush was as tasty, as tasty could be. And then my poor meatball grew into a tree.”

Right before Dean’s eyes, the meatball burst up into a small tree.

“That tree was all covered in beautiful moss. And it grew lovely meatballs in tomato sauce.”

The tree sprouted meatballs and dripped with pasta sauce.

“So if you eat spaghetti, all covered with cheese. Hold on to your meatballs. And don’t ever sneeze.”

Unable to deal with the sight of what was happening, Dean closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing deep and even. This worked for a little while until Sam came over and touched his on the shoulder. 

“Dean,” the younger man said. 

Dean opened his eyes and looked at his brother. Sam’s words hung in the air written in blue ink and sharp readable print. He made a noise to show he was listening. 

“It’s dinner time,” his brother said gently. Sam set a plate of spaghetti down next to his brother. 

“I don’t want spaghetti from a tree,” Dean complained. He grabbed the edge of his blanket and pulled it up over his head, ignoring his brother and the conjured food.

****

Sam set the plate of food near Dean and backed away. He turned around to join Aziraphale and Crowley sitting by the fire. Crowley had just taken the pot of spaghetti and meatballs off the fire as he hummed a catchy tune.

“He doesn’t want to eat,” Sam said as he sat back down.

Crowley handed Sam a plate he’d just finished dishing up.

“Leave him be,” Aziraphale said, turning his attention to his own plate. “He should feel better in the morning.”

“I hope so,” Sam sighed. He stuck his fork into his food, pulled out a few noodles and popped them into his mouth. “This is really good,” he said, complementing Crowley’s work.

Crowley puffed up proudly. “Thanks. Real cooked food always tastes better than conjured.”

Chapter Text

The world slowly made its way back into Dean’s sense. He heard the wind rustling through the high tops of the trees, but they didn’t produce the bright flashes of color that they had a few hours ago. Encouraged by this change, Dean carefully opened his eyes.

The forest was calm this morning. Thin light filtered down through the canopy casting the world in an ethereal glow. Aziraphale stood in the center of the clearing with his back towards the hunter. His wings hung behind him, one drooping a hair more than the other.

Dean stared at the angel as he his tired brain worked over the scene. It was obvious the angel was still in pain from his injuries. The slight drop in the wing showed as much. So why was he standing there and not resting. Dean’s eyes traced the being taking in all the little hints.

Aziraphale stood, watching out into the forest. His hands were held behind his back, fiddling with something small and red. The angel rocked on his heels causing his wings to sway a bit as he moved. Soft music drifted from the angel as he hummed snatches of songs. It took Dean a few moments longer to realize the angel was standing guard over them. He was a sentry, albeit, a board one. 

Dean snorted softly as this revelation. He’d taken his fair share of guard watched and found the angel funny. A guard was supposed to remain on high alert for trouble, not singing in a board fashion. 

Relaxing his eyes away from the angel, Dean tried to look into the underbrush on the other side of the clearing. There was nothing there. Or, at least, Dean couldn’t see anything there. A massive wall of black scales blocked his vision. He focused on it and quickly realized why Aziraphale was so relaxed in his duties as guard. Moving his head, Dean traced the wall of serpent that coiled around the clearing. Aziraphale wasn’t worried because Crowley had encircled them and would instantly know if something tried to reach them.

Dean rolled, following the line of the serpent until the sight of his brother, sleeping near him, broke his view. Sam looked peaceful, tucked up in his sleeping bag. Something caught the corner of Dean’s eye and he rolled a little further. A duck sat up on Sam’s hip, nested down in duckish dreams. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He turned back to see Aziraphale, still relaxed in his pose as guard. Surely the angel would have noticed if a duck had gotten inside Crowley’s protective ring of scales. The hunter looked back at his brother and the sleeping duck and shook his head. He rolled back over and pulled the covers tighter. He’d hallucinated this duck before. Undoubtedly, he was doing it again. Obviously things weren’t out of his system yet and he needed to go back to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called.

Sam looked up at the angle in front of him. He’d stopped and was staring into the underbrush he’d been picking his way through. There were no paths through the forest, but Aziraphale seemed to know where he was going. Sam stopped and tried to see over the angel’s shoulder to whatever had caught his attention.

“Hmmm?” the demon called from behind him.

“Could you come here please?” the angel called.

Crowley shifted to the side and slipped past both of the brothers to stand with Aziraphale. 

Dean moved up to stand next to his brother. “What is it?” he asked, trying to see over the pair of beings blocking the way.

“Not sure,” Sam said as he craned his neck to get a better look. He was taller than Aziraphale, but the angel’s wings blocked his view.

The demon and angel whispered together as Aziraphale pointed out into the brush. After a moment, Crowley nodded. He dropped his bag and handed Aziraphale his staff. “Wait here,” the demon warned. 

“Do be nice,” Aziraphale called as the demon slipped into the brush to their left. 

For a man with two huge wings on his back, Crowley was quick to disappear into the dense foliage. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, moving closer to Aziraphale.

The angel turned to look at the hunters. “Nothing to be worried about, my dear boy,” the angel said calmly. “There is something in our path and I did not want to startle it. Crowley has gone to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” Dean asked.

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale explained. “While most of the fauna in the area are simple creatures, a few have a higher intelligence. Those tend to be more aggressive about trespassers. I would much rather negotiate for our safe passage than fight our way through someone’s territory.”

“Oi, Angel,” Crowley called from the forest where they were heading. 

Aziraphale and the brothers focused their attention on the demon sauntering their way back. He held out his hand with what appeared to be a snake wrapped around it. What made the creature so strange was the bright tuff of green and red feathers that poked out of its neck. Two small wings were folded down it’s back.

“And?” Aziraphale prompted. 

“She says she’ll let us through her part of the woods,” Crowley explained, “but she wants an offering.”

Aziraphale cocked his head. “All right,” the angel said tentatively. “But I am not familiar with this kind of thing. What kind of offering does she want?”

Crowley turned the snake thing and asked. 

It hissed at him.

A smile turned his lips before he gave his attention back to Aziraphale. “Some of your cocoa.”

“My cocoa,” Aziraphale said shocked. “Why my cocoa?”

Crowley snickered at the possessiveness Aziraphale showed his favorite treat. “She’s a Quetzalcoatl,” Crowley pointed out. “Standard offerings are gold, blood, or chocolate. The only gold we have are our wedding bands and your Halo. We ain’t give’n those up.” His eyes moved to the Winchesters. “Could probably drain a few pints from them.”

“No,” Dean growled.

Crowley cocked his eyebrow in amusement. “Leaves cacao. Since snakes can’t chew chocolate bars…”

Aziraphale sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. “But it will have to wait until we stop for rest. I do not have any made up right this moment.”

The Quetzalcoatl hissed and uncoiled itself from Crowley’s arm. A few quick flaps of its wings had it soaring towards Aziraphale. 

The angel raised his arm and let the winged serpent alight on his hand. 

The creature let out a long line of hisses and head bobs while looking at the angel.

Crowley’s jaw tightened, but he translated. “Says she will accept your offering and allow us to pass unhindered, but she wants to stay with you until she gets what she is promised.”

Aziraphale seemed surprised and looked at the small repritel. “Of course,” he agreed. He paused as a thought occurred to him. He looked up to Crowley. “As long as it is all right with my husband.”

Warmth and love washed the tension from Crowley’s jaw. He strode forwards and grabbed Aziraphale’s lapel in one hand. He pulled the angel toward him and placed a quick, but passionate kiss on the angel’s mouth. 

Aziraphale’s wings shivered in response, but the demon drew back from the kiss before he could act or comment.

Crowley turned his focus to the small Quetzalcoatl sitting in Aziraphale’s hand. “Alright by me.” He made a show of smoothing the wrinkles from the coat. “Take our new friend and lead on, my angel love,” Crowley said. He picked up his bag and took his staff from Aziraphale’s hand. “I’ll take up the rear and guard you from behind.”

The Quetzalcoatl let out a series of short laughing hisses that shook the creature's body. It slithered up Aziraphale’s arm and looked over the angel’s shouler and hissed at the demon. 

Crowley chuckled as he retook his place behind Dean and Sam. “Glad we understand.”

Once the Quetzalcoat was settled on Aziraphale’s shoulder, the angel started picking his path through the undergrowth again. 

Dean and Sam exchanged a confused look. “What the hell was that?” Dean. 

“I think he was making a statement,” Sam said, staring at the green and red feathers.

“Hell yes, I was making a statement,” Crowley hissed. “Can let that winged bastard start getting ideas. That’s my angle.” He gave both brothers a sharp look. “Now come on. Chop chop,” he nodded in the direction Aziraphale was heading. “I’m not letting that thing out of my sight.”

Sam and Dean exchange a look before turning and chasing after the angel. Crowley was in a mood and it was probably best not to annoy him anymore.

***

It had taken several hours of Crowley’s quiet seething for Aziraphale to find an acceptable spot to stop for lunch. 

“There you go, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he set the sauser of cocoa down on the ground. 

The tiny Quetzalcoatl hissed and slithered up to the plate. It’s long tongue flicked out across the surface. Happy with what it found, the feathered serpent dipped the tip of its snout into the liquid and slurped it down greedily. Once it was done, it sat up and hissed at Aziraphale.

The angel looked up to where the demon was standing above them with his arms crossed. 

“Says she accepts your offering and promises that our path will be clear to the end of her territory,” the demon translated.

The Quetzalcoatl looked up to Crowley. She beat her wings and flew to him. 

Crowley held out his hands to catch her.

The creature hissed at him for a moment, before stretching forward and tapping his cheek with her snout. 

A warm smile crossed the demon’s face. “Thank you,” he said before bending over and setting the creature on the ground. 

It hissed one more time before slithering away into the underbrush.

“What was that about?” Aziraphale asked as he stood up from the ground. He picked up the used sauser and looked up at the demon.

“Nu’fin,” the demon said. A blush rushed over his cheeks. “She just… aaa… wished us the best."

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, reading between the lines. He’d gotten better at it since admitting his feelings. “Then come,” he said, wrapping his arm around Crowley. “I think that calls for a little celebration. I put a little extra spice in the cocoa this time.”

Crowley snorted, but let Aziraphale pull him into motion. “Fitting,” he muttered. “Not everyday an Aztec deity blesses your marriage.”

Chapter Text

Sam startles as Aziraphale’s wings flare in front of him. He pulled up short, surprised by the sudden move. “Aziraphale?” he asked.

“Shh,” the angel hushed him softly. “Keep quiet and stay behind me.”

A hint of fear raced through Sam at the sound of the angel’s voice. The desire to look over the angel’s shoulder ran through him, but the command in the words held him back. 

“What is it?” Dean whispered from behind his brother.

“Don’t know,” Sam whispered back.

“Not good,” Crowley hissed in a quiet voice. Grabbing both of the brothers, he shoved them together and forced them to huddle right up against Aziraphale’s back. “Close um, Angel,” the demon hissed.

To the brother’s shock, Aziraphale bent his wings back and wrapped them around the hunters. 

Once they were fully cocooned in the feather, Crowley gave them a sharp look. “Do not move,” he warned.

“Crowley, it sees us,” Aziraphale, gasped. A shudder ran down the angel’s body and his knees threatened to give out.

Both Sam and Dean placed a hand on the angel’s back to support him.

“Fuck,” Crowley cursed. Stepping backwards he slipped out from between the angel’s wings.

The sound of Aziraphale's sword being drawn made the hunters tense up. Something bad was out there. The trembles running down Aziraphale's back increased.

Intending to give Crowely some back up, Dean removed his hand from the angel's back and reached for his gun.

"No," the angel gasped, feeling the movement in his feathers. Clenching his wings tighter, he dropped to his knees. 

Distressed by the angel's sudden collapse, Dean's hand came back to Aziraphale's side. He looked at his brother.

Sam's eyes were wide with shock. Normally the hunters would have rushed out to face what danger was there, but the angel's protests held them back. 

A loud cry from Crowley sent a shot of adrenaline racing through their veins. A sound, something like a rooster crowing, rang through the air. Pain chased the adrenaline from their systems.  Every major muscle in both Sam and Dean's body clenched and the brothers cried out. Aziraphale's shivering wings held them up for a few seconds longer before the angel collapsed to the ground, taking the protective shield with him.

The sudden coolness of the woods was shocking compared to the warmth of the angel's wings. Both Sam and Dean gasped at the change. They slumped as the cramping released, but the pain held them in place for a few seconds more.

Lifting his head, Dean forced his eyes open and looked over the downed angel. Crowley stood over something, repeatedly stabbing it with Aziraphale's sword. Dean's hand found the clip to his pack and dropped the bag behind him. He staggered to his feet. "Crowley?" he called.

"Stay there," Crowley called back. He stabbed the thing again. "It's not dead yet. Check on Aziraphale."

Dean froze as he watched Crowley pound the creature into pulp. He turned to find his brother checking on the angel.

"Aziraphale?" Sam said softly he leaned over the angel, trying to reach his head without leaning on his limp wings. The hunter placed his hand on the angel's back between his wings.

The angel's brow scrunched up and he whimpered, but he didn't move.

"He's alive," Sam called.

"Good," Crowley called back. "Let him rest." He continued smashing the sword into the ground for a while longer. Yanking it out, the demon inspected the pile of mush he'd made of the creature.  Satisfied, he wiped the blade of the sword on some grass and staggered his way back. He plopped to the ground next to Aziraphale's head.

Dean stared at the red mush on the ground and was shocked to see the flesh twitch. "What is that?"

"A cockatrice," the demon answered.  His hands reached for Aziraphale but stopped short of touching him. He looked up at Dean. "Roll him over."

Sam and dean worked to gather Aziraphale's wing up and roll him up on his side.

The angel whimpered again, but moved limply in their hands.

"Aziraphale," Crowley called softly. "I need you to wake up now." He reached to touch the angel again, but stopped short. He looked up at Sam. "Pat his cheek," the demon ordered. 

Sam looked at him shocked. "What?" 

"Pat his cheek," Crowley said again. "Wake him up. I'd do it, but I'm covered in venom."

Sam's eyes widened and he crouched down next to the angel. "Aziraphale," he called as he patted the angel's cheek to wake him. 

Aziraphale groaned and tensed as he came around. Pain twisted the angel's face.

"Come on, Angel," Crowley said softly. "I need you to wake up."

"Crowley," Aziraphale answered in a raspy voice. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the demon, but quickly shut them again. His hand came up to rub across his face. "Is it dead?"

"No," Crowley said, "but it'll take a while for it to heal."

"It's not dead?" Dean gasped. He looked back to the mashed up creature.

"It takes more than a beating to kill a cockatrice," Crowley explained. "But it's as dead as I can get it without a rooster or a mirror." He looked at Sam. "Can you bring me a bottle of water?"

The hunter nodded and rushed to get a bottle from his pack. "Here," he held it out towards the demon.

Crowley shook his head and turned his attention to Aziraphale. "Angel," he said in a soft voice. "Are you alright?"

Aziraphale laid on the ground for a moment before answering. "I'll live," he groaned. Slowly he started to work his way up into a sitting position. 

Crowley snickered. "Do you think you have it in you to bless this?" He nodded towards the bottle in Sam's hands.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked at the bottle. With great effort, he raised his hands and took the bottle of water. He pulled it into his lap. "Yeah," he said softly. He cradled the bottle in his hands and prayed. The water flared with light. Once the light faded, Aziraphale held it back out for Sam to take.

"Thanks, Angel," Crowley grabbed the sword and struggled to his feet. He looked at Sam and nodded towards the woods. "Come on."

Not sure what he was supposed to do, Sam grabbed the bottle of water and followed Crowley a fair distance into the woods.

Crowley stopped and turned to face Sam. He held the sword out with the blade flat. "Help me clean the venom off," the demon asked.

Getting the idea, Sam twisted the cap off the bottle of blessed water and started pouring it over the blade and the demon. By the time they were done, Sam had washed the demon and sword in several more gallons of holy water than the small bottle could realistically hold. 

"That's good," the demon said. He took the bottle of water and drank deeply from it. He shivered in response, and made a disgusted face.

Sam stared at him in shock. "Are you going to be okay?" He'd never seen a demon drink holy water before. 

"Yeah," Crowley said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his drenched coat. "Cockatrice venom is highly toxic and extremely potent. It tends to run up the weapon and kill the wielder. Even poking the thing with a stick can be lethal. Thankfully I'm a snake demon and have some immunity to the poison. The holy water should counteract the rest."

Sam stared at him in shock. "But Dean's not." His brother was known for poking things with sticks when his curiosity got to him.

Crowley stared at him in shock. "Fuck," the demon cursed. Both he and Sam raced through the woods back to where they had left Dean and Aziraphale. 

They stopped when they found Dean sitting on the ground with the angel, pouring out a cup of tea from the tartaned thermos. 

Aziraphale took the cup with shaking fingers. He looked up at Sam and the demon. "Is it over?" he asked.

Crowley nodded his head. "For now," he said he turned to look at the quivering pile of meat. "It'll take a few days to recover. We'll be gone by then." He dropped himself on the ground next to his angel.

"Good," Aziraphale said. He took a sip of the tea before offering some to Crowley. "And the venom?"

Ceowley took the cup and sipped the tea. "All cleaned up," he said handing the angel back the cup. "And you?"

"Give me a few minutes and I should be all right to move," Aziraphale said.

"We could stay here for a while," Dean suggested. 

Aziraphale shook his head. "We need to put some distance between us and that," he nodded towards the injured creature, "before we can properly rest. It may take days for that thing to recover, but all it takes is a glance to kill you."

Sam stared at Aziraphale in awe. "And you're not dead?"

Aziraphale smiled at him weakly. "I am somewhat immune, although it does hurt like Hell. I do not fancy another round should the creature heal enough to look at us."

Dean swore as he glanced over at the cockatrice again. 

"My thoughts exactly," Aziraphale said. He drained his cup and handed it back to Dean. "Let's get out of here before it pulls itself together."

Chapter Text

Aziraphale hung heavily on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter’s arm wrapped around the angel’s waist helping him along. Just a few steps behind, Sam held Crowley in a similar fashion, although the demon was supporting himself more. Neither being was doing so well after their encounter with the cockatrice.

“Is this good?” Dean asked, looking around the clearing. It was smaller than the other three clearings they had stumbled through. 

Aziraphale cast his weary eyes around the break in the forest. “It will have to do.” He stumbled as his knees gave out again. 

“Oh no,” Dean growled as he tightened his grip on the angel. He held Aziraphale to his side and drug him to the center of the small glade. 

“Forgive me,” Aziraphale said weakly, unable to go on. He slumped as Dean lowered him to the ground.

“Shud up, Angel,” Crowley called as Sam helped him over to the angel. The demon settled himself to the ground near Aziraphale’s head. “Done nufin needs apologizing for.” Carefully he moved so support Aziraphale’s head in his lap. “Done good, Angel. Everyone lived.”

Aziraphale snorted in amusement, but didn’t move. “Yes we did.”

Crowley smiled softly down at his angel and wove his fingers through his hair. “Rest now,” he ordered. He looked up at the brother as he petted Aziraphale into sleep. “Can you figure out your own dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, pulling off his pack. “We got it tonight.” He swung it around and set it on the ground next to him. The hunter looked out at the woods around them. The day was getting old, but there was still a fair amount of daylight left. “Are we safe here?” he asked. Once they understood the full extent of the danger, the incident with the cockatrice had terrified them. 

“Probably not,” Crowley admitted while he stroked Aziraphale’s hair. “But it’s going to have to work for now.” He let out a tired sigh. “I’ll stand watch tonight.”

“If you want to rest, we can stand guard tonight,” Dean . 

Crowley gave him a considering look before snorting in amusement. “Yeah, sure, why not.” 

***

Dean poked his stick into the fire. Small lizards raced through the coals. “This isn’t what I had in mind,” he scoffed.

Sam turned his attention away from the salamanders in the fire to look at his brother. “What?” he asked, not understanding.

Dean’s irritation flared. “This,” he growled, waving the stick in the air. “This isn’t standing watch, this is being babysat.” 

Sam looked around at the glade. Off to one side, Aziraphale curled on a pile of dark coils, his wing tucked over him to keep him warm. Crowley’s head was nestled up next to the angel. His golden eyes stared off into the night. Sam wasn’t sure if the snake was watching them, or sleeping. The rest of the demon’s dark body wrapped around the glade between them and the woods. Firelight shimmered on the dark scales. Nothing was getting in or out without the snake knowing it. 

“Think of it this way,” Sam said. “Were the guards on duty and that,” he pointed to the line of dark scales, “is our rampart.”

Dean scoffed at him.

Sam gave him a pointed look. “We just stood off with a thing that can kill you by looking at you. From a distance. It took an angel down without even touching it. Crowley beat the thing into a pulp without actually killing it. Do you want to face off with something like that, by ourselves, in the dark?”

Dean hemmed and hawed before poking his stick in the fire and chasing the lizards around again. “No,” he finally answered in an irritated voice. 

“Then quit your bitchin,” Sam said pointedly. “And stop poking at the fire, you’re scaring the lizards.

For those not familiar with the folklore of the Salamander, they were once believed to be creatures that either dwelt in or created fire. For more information on salamander mythology, check this out. https://mythology.wikia.org/wiki/Salamander

Chapter Text

"We need to get a bit of a wiggle on," Aziraphale said as he pushed the hunters through the forest.

Dean glanced at the angel over his shoulder. "A wiggle on?" he said, confused by the cute phrase.

Aziraphale gave him an exasperated look. "Run," he translated.

The hunters didn't need anymore prompting before they turned and raced off into the woods. The sound that initiated their flight ripped through the air, much closer this time.

Aziraphale kept pace as the huge creature crashed through the forest behind them.

The noise, a cross between a scream and a roar, echoed through the trees as the creature caught their scent and chased after them.

Dean glanced back at the large, bipedal lizard with sharp teeth and small arms. "Is that a fucking dinosaur?" he gasped, but didn't slow down.

"Yes," Aziraphale answered. 

"I thought they were extinct," Sam yelled back.

"They never existed," Aziraphale called. "Bit of a cosmic joke."

"Then what is that?" Dean yelled glancing back at the t-rex now hunting them.

"Bones had to come from somewhere," the angle explained. 

The hunters shook their heads and put their hearts into their flight as the dino got nearer.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale screamed, looked around for the demon who was supposed to be stopping the dinosaur from eating them.

"On it," the demon cried from somewhere behind them.

Aziraphale glanced back just in time to see Crowley, sitting on the tyrannosaur's neck with a long length of vine. 

The demon threw the vines towards the dino's head and they wrapped around it like a bridle. "Woah," the demon cried as he pulled back on the newly formed reina.

Shocked by the new addition,  the t-rex faltered in its chase. It scrunched up its neck and shook its head.

Crowley gripped the creature with his heels and held on tight as the thing let out another roar. 

The dino bucked and shook itself.

Lifting one hand into the air, Crowly let out a whopping cry as he rode the dino like a gigantic bucking bronco.

"It's not a horse, Crowley, " Aziraphale cried. He'd stopped running shortly after the demon had reined in the dino.

Crowley let out another yell of joy before answering. "More fun." Unfortunately the violent thrashing was too much for the demon's grip and Crowley went flying off into the undergrowth. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated groan. "Really," he scoffed. He looked up at the dino thrashing around, trying to get the bridle off. The angel snapped his fingers and the dinosaur disappeared.  Disgruntled and tired, Aziraphale stormed over to the bush Crowley was stuck in and pulled the demon free. "And I'm supposed to be the nice one," he complained as he righted his love and pulled some leaves free of the demon's wings.

"You are the nice one," Crowley said with a smile as he sat on the ground recovering. 

Aziraphale smiled, amused. "Are you hurt, my dear?"

"Just my pride," Crowley admitted.

Giving the demon his hand, Aziraphale helped him to his feet. "What do you think you were doing?" the angel asked, waving towards where the dinosaur had been.

Crowley shrugged as he straightened his coat. "Though we might have been able to ride it all the way to Eden."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and shook his head. After a moment, he looked back at the demon. "It is times like this that I need to remind myself why I love you."

A smile turned the corners of Crowley's mouth. "Because I'm the hottest demon you know," he said, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the angel's lips. He pulled back and looked at Aziraphale with a spark of mischief in his eyes. "And I'm good in bed."

"Cheeky," Aziraphale huffed and swatted playfully at the demon. The love in his voice contradicted any reprimand the action may have had. Letting out a soft sigh, Aziraphale turned to the woods. "We should probably go find the Winchesters before something else finds them."

"Good idea," Crowley said, starting off in the direction the brothers were running. "Don't want to risk my pardon in Hell."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes again, but started after the demon

Chapter Text

Movement from the underbrush caught Sam's attention. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the spot where he'd see the flash of brown feathers. "Dean," he called softly to his brother.

"What?" Dean called back.

"I think the duck is stalking us," Sam said.

Dean twisted his head around to look at his brother over his shoulder. "The duck from the bunker?"

"Yeah," Sam explained. "I keep seeing it  in the bushes as we pass." He stopped and looked over to the shrubbery where he saw the feather.

Joining his brother, Dean scanned the foliage. "I've seen it too. But I thought that was because I was high."

"I remember you pulling a gun on a bush," Sam recalled.

"It was more than that," Dean explained. "It was sleeping on you the other night."

" Sleeping on me?" Sam said, shocked. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Dude," Dean snapped back "I thought I was tripping. "

"You were tripping," Crowley said as he stopped with the brother.

Dean glared daggers at the demon.

"So what's the problem now?" The demon asked.

"Sam saw a duck," Dean explained.

"A duck?" Crowley asked dubiously. 

"The same duck I saw in the bushes earlier," Dean explained.

"The same duck that knocked you and Cas out," Sam explained.

A serious expression covered Crowley's face.

"Oi, Angel," he called to Aziraphale. 

The angel stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

"We may have a problem," Crowley called.

Aziraphale came back to join them. "What's the issue?"

"The boys keep seeing a duck," Crowley explained. 

"A duck?" Aziraphale said surprised. 

"The same duck from the bunker," Sam explained.

Aziraphale gave them a confused look. "Your pet duck?"

"It's not our pet," Sam complained. "It just showed up."

"And started sleeping with him," Dean said nodding toward Sam.

Sam shot his brother a hash look.

Dean shrugged. 

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said, a little worried. He turned to Crowley. "Can you sense anything around?"

Crowley closed his eyes and touched his fingers to his temples. He breathed slowly for a few moments before opening his eyes again. "I can't feel anything watching us, but animals are harder to sense."

Aziraphale worried his fingers in thought. "I do not see how the duck from your bunker could have made it here," he pondered. 

"I don't know," Dean added. "But that's what I saw."

Aziraphale drew in some air, pursed his lips in thought, and let out a heavy breath. "Well, I guess we had better hurry then. Eden is not far. We will be safe within her walls." The angel turned an hurried off through the woods. 

Sam and Dean gave each other a worried look, but turned to follow.

Crowley took one last look at the vegetation around them before hurrying after everyone, muttering as he went. "Of all the things in this world, I can't believe we are scared of a duck."

Chapter Text

The walls around Eden were impressive.  From a distance they looked tall, up close they were massive.

Sam stared at the line of solid white stones. "How do we get in?" he asked, awed. "Climb?" There was not a break to be seen.

Crowley chuckled. "You could spend your whole life climbing that thing and not get in," he explained. "I know. Tried."

"How did you get in?" Sam asked.

"I crawled up from Hell," the demon answered. 

"Near the northern gate, if I remember correctly," Aziraphale answered.

"Only crack I could find," Crowley added.

"That crack has been sealed," Aziraphale added.

"So how do we get in?" Dean asked.

Aziraphale smiled. "We use the door,"

Both Sam and Dean stared at the unbroken wall. There was not a door to be seen.

"Where?" Dean finally asked.

The amusement on Aziraphale's face spread into a grin. "Right here." He walked over to an oddly shaped stone and dug his manicured nails into the crack. It took a little wiggling to get the stone loose, but once it was, the angel pulled the massive rock out.

Dean and Sam watched in awe. They would not have been able to shift the block on their own. The fact that Aziraphale lifted with ease was mind boggling.

Dean looked over at Sam. "Why are we here?" he asked. For the entire trip through the forest, they had been nothing but liabilities to the angel and demon.

"C’us you're vain and had to be included," Crowley pointed out as he watched Aziraphale work.

"Now Crowley dear," Aziraphale said as he set the stone to the side. "There is no reason to be cruel.  The Winchesters have been delightful company in our travels."

“When they weren’t getting into trouble,” Crowley sassed back. 

Both of the brothers stood there feeling small. They had been trouble for the angel and demon. 

“Now, none of that,” Aziraphale reprimanded as he rounded on the demon. “It does not matter if they were trouble or not. They are here to witness.” He turned his attention to the hunters. “Are you ready?”

Dean swallowed, trying to make his suddenly dry mouth work. “Yeah,” he said with a slight nod of his head. His stomach was twisting in weird ways.

Aziraphale gave them a slight nod and turned his attention back to the hole he’d made in the wall. He placed his hand on the block above the hole and spread his wings. “I am the Principality Aziraphale,” he spoke in a commanding tone. “Guardians of this gate. By my power, I command thee; Open.” For a moment, nothing happened. Closing his eyes, Aziraphale pushed his power into the stones harder. The rock took on a heavenly glow.

Dean, Sam, and Crowley all took a few steps away from the heat forming in the rocks.

“Open for me,” Aziraphale repeated.

Slowly the rocks sealing the Eastern Gate moved. When the light faded and the dust settled, two huge iron gates blocked the newly formed hole. Aziraphale’s hand rested on the lock. The angel panted in exertion. 

 “I don’t remember it being that hard to open,” Aziraphale admitted as he lowered his wings and tried to catch his breath.

Crowley came closer and pulled his angel into his side. “It has been six thousand years, and we aren’t the same as we once wore.”

Aziraphale leaned his face into his husband’s shoulder. “You are right,” he admitted, giving himself a moment to recover. Once the lightheadedness passed, he stood on his own. He turned to the hunters waiting behind him. A smile curled his lips. “May I present Eden.” He held his hand out and stepped back so the hunters could see through the gate into the lush garden beyond.

Crowley backed up to stand on the other side of the gate.

Dean and Sam came closer and looked in. Unlike the dark and dangerous forest behind them, the garden of Eden was warm and inviting. It called to them, deep inside.

“How do we get in?” Dean asked, stepping closer to the gate. He touched the metal, surprised to find it warm.

“Some ground rules first,” Aziraphale said.

This pulled both of the hunters out of their awe. They turned to look at the angel. 

“Keep your grubby paws to yourselves,” Crowley barked from behind them.

They snapped around to see the demon. 

“Quite right,” Aziraphale agreed. “Humans were cast from Eden so they would not take what was forbidden. Touch nothing.”

“Wait,” Dean said as things didn’t line up for him. “Didn’t man already take from the Tree of Knowledge.”

“They’re worried about the Tree of Life,” Sam explained.

Dean gave his brother a confused look. “There are two trees?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale explained. “Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, gaining the ability to know good from evil. They were cast out before they were able to take from the Tree of Life and gain immortality.”

“Immortality,” Dean whispered in awe. Endless possibilities rushed through his head.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Crowley complained. Outliving everyone you know sucked.

“Quite right,” the angel agreed. He turned serious eyes to the brothers. “Now, before I open this gate, I must insist on your solemn oath. You will not touch anything inside these walls.”

“We promise,” Sam agreed.

Possibilities raced through Dean’s head. What could they do with immortality?

Sam looked over at his unresponsive brother. “Dean?”

Dean turned wonder-filled eyes to his brother. 

Sam could see the gears in Dean’s head turning. “Dean,” he said in a stern voice. “No,”

Dean glared at him. The brothers had a silent battle of wills before the older brother gave in. “Fine,” he huffed. “Touch nothing.”

Aziraphale watched the boys for a few moments longer, appraising how well they would keep their word, before accepting their oaths. The angel reached for his pocket watch. He chased the chain to its tail and unhooked it from inside the velvet waistcoat. A small key hung on the end of the chain. “If you will excuse me,” he said, waving the hunters back from the gate.”

The Winchesters stepped back, giving the angel room to work.

Lifting the key, Aziraphale slipped it into the lock. Light shot out across the gate, making it glow. The angel turned the key and the entire land rumbled with the sound of the tumblers letting go. The gates swung free. Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale pulled the key from the lock and pushed the gate open. He held his hand out, inviting the hunters inside. “Welcome to Eden.”

Chapter Text

Verdant foliage spread out as far as the eye could see. Flowers in brilliant colors nestled in greens more vibrant than anything the Winchesters had ever known. 

“This brings back memories,” Crowley sighed as he walked in behind the brothers.

“It does,” Aziraphale agreed as he closed the gate behind them. The lock clicked into place almost silently. He slipped the key back into his pocket and turned to lead the way. “Step lively now,” he called. “We can not let the sun do down on us in here.”

Sam looked up to the sky, the sun had already started its slide towards the horizon. He hurried his steps so he walked next to Aziraphale on the wide pathway. “What happens if we’re here after dark?”

“Best not ask,” Aziraphale answered, leaning towards Sam a bit. He straightened up and walked on. “But, it should not be an issue. The trees are not far.”

Sam nodded and fell back until he was following the angel. 

Dean looked around at the brilliant garden. It was warm and lush, but there was an unnatural hush in the air that was unnerving. “Why is it so quiet?” he asked.

“Humans weren’t the only things She kicked out of Eden?” Crowley said sourly.

“She kicked the animals out, too,” Dean said, shocked. 

Aziraphale sighed. “The humans would have starved if the creatures had stayed in Eden,” the angel admitted. “Besides, it would only have taken a few years before the animals would have overrun the garden. Nothing can get in or out unless it is through one of the four gates.” Aziraphale’s wings fluttered in sadness. “I am the last of the Guardians.”

“What happened to the others?” Sam asked.

“Reassignments,” Aziraphale answered. 

“Six thousand years of Heaven’s bureaucracy,” Crowley said, bitterly.

“And Demons,” Aziraphale whispered.

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look.

“Why weren’t you reassigned?” Dean asked. 

“I was promoted,” Aziraphale said at the same time Crowley called out, “He was punished.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale complained. “My assignment to Earth was not a punishment.”

“How can you call being left to watch over humanity and an empty garden, for six thousand years, a promotion?" Crowley snarled.

“Someone had to make sure no one got back in,” Aziraphale fussed.

“Even after it was lifted from Earth?” the demon pointed out.

“Well…” Aziraphale started. “I think someone may have forgotten.”

Crowley snorted in amusement. “Bet those feathered wankers don’t even remember you've got a key.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Probably not,” he mused. He paused as he thought of something. “But it is convenient that I do still have my key.”

Crowley scoffed. “Yeah, having a key to the only completely empty, inaccessible location in creation that might be safe to store a scroll that could literally end everything. Very convenient. ” 

The angel glanced over his shoulder at the demon. “One might say it’s…”

“Don’t say it,” Crowley growled. 

“...ineffable,” Aziraphale finished with a mischievous grin.

Crowley groaned loudly.

“What do you have against the word ineffable ?” Dean asked the demon.

“It’s a terrible word,” the demon snapped. 

Aziraphale laughed. “He does not have an issue with the word ineffable ,” the angel explained. “He has a problem with Her plans being ineffable.”

“So all of this,” Sam made a circling motion with his hand to take in everything they were going through, “is part of God’s greater plan?”

“It is hard to say,” Aziraphale admitted.

“It’s too convenient ,” Crowley sneered. 

Aziraphale sighed. “I admit, the circumstances do line up too nicely, but I will not question it,” the angel said. “We have the scroll now, it needs protecting, and this is the best option.”

“But doesn’t it piss you off that God might be manipulating you?” Sam asked. He hated that Chuck had played around with their lives.

It took a few minutes for Aziraphale to answer. “Not really,” he admitted. He stopped at a crossing in the path and turned back to face Sam. “I was created to serve Her, and while I have not always been happy with the way things went, I can honestly say I have lived according to my beliefs. She may have manipulated the circumstances that brought me here, but it was my choice to follow the path She laid. Right now, that path leads to two trees. Which are that way.” Aziraphale turned and started down a smaller side path.

“Umm, Angel,” Crowley called from behind the hunters.

Aziraphale stopped and looked back at the demon. “Yes?”

“The trees are that way,” Crowley pointed the opposite direction Aziraphale has headed.

Confusion crossed the angel’s face and he looked back at the other path. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Crowley snickered. “Yes,” the demon said as he slipped past the hunters and led the way down the new path. “Spent more time slithering around this place than you. Barely got off your wall, if I remember correctly.”

Aziraphale huffed and waved the Winchesters to follow the demon. “I didn’t have much choice at the time,” he groused. “I was supposed to be guarding the gate.”

“Didn’t stop you from sneaking around and sampling the fruit,” Crowley teased. 

Another indignant huff came from the angel. “Just lead the way, foul fiend.”

Sam and Dean held in their amusement as they followed the demon down the winding path.

Chapter Text

It's commonly thought that the Trees of Knowledge and Life were the crowning achievements in Eden. That they were centrally located in a place of great honor for all of the creatures to look upon and bask in their splendor.

They are not.

In fact, Dean and Sam were rather disappointed when Crowley led them into the small glade set to one side of the garden. The only thing that set these trees apart from the others were the brilliant fruit weighing down their limbs and the small sign, tilted to one side, reading don't touch.

"That's it?" Dean asked as he stared at the two trees. One had red fruits that were somewhat apple shaped and the other held yellow that were more pear in appearance. 

"That's it," Crowley said as he walked over and straightened up the sign. He leaned on it, driving it into the ground a little firmer. "What'd ya expect?"

Dean looked at the Tree of Life. "Not a pear tree," he grumbled.

"I like pears," Aziraphale said coming up behind them. He passed the boys to walk around the two trees. "It doesn't look like they have changed at all." There was wonder in the angel's voice.

"They have," Crowley said. He walked over and touched one of the lower limbs of the appleish looking tree. "I remember when this branch would barely support me." He wrapped his hand around it and tested its strength. The limb swayed under his grasp, but held firm. A single apple dropped off and rolled towards the hunters. It stopped just shy of Sam's foot.

The entire group collectively held their breath and stared at the fruit. The Tree of Knowledge did not drop its fruit for no reason. The only sound that broke the tension was the babble of the little brook just to the side of the glade. 

After a few heartbeats, Aziraphale turned his attention to the frozen demon, holding on to the branch. "Crowley," he said in warning. His eyes light up with power.

"It wasn't me," the demon cried. He let his hand slip from the branch and rushed over to retrieve the fallen fruit. "I swear to you, Angel," he said in a panic, clutching the apple. "I would not jeopardize us for a temptation." He held the apple to his chest and moved away from the hunters.

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It took him a moment to settle before he looked at the demon again. "Let's just get this done before something torrid happens." 

It didn't take the angel long to fish the casket containing the scroll and translated book from his bag and settle it between the trees.

Crowley placed the fallen apple on top of the box.

The hunters watched as the angel and demon stepped away from the trees.

"Is that it?" Dean asked.

Crowley gave him a curious look. "What else did you expect?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Something with flair," he admitted. 

"Oftentimes miracles come in the most unassuming packages," Aziraphale explained.  He turned to face the trees and box. He folded his hands in prayer. "Oh Lord," he prayed softly. "Please protect and guard this box. May it forever be strong and sturdy and never found by those that may seek to use its contents. Amen."

Crowley hissed at the angel. "Didn't think my miracle was good enough to protect it?" he said indignantly. 

"Oh no, my dear," Aziraphale said. He came over and took the demon's hand. "I am sure your miracle will hold until the end of time, but a little extra blessing never hurts." 

An irritated look crossed the demon's face,  but he didn't argue.

"Speaking of," Sam said, drawing attention. He unclipped his pack, dropped it to the ground, and started digging in it. He pulled out two containers of table salt and tossed one to Dean. "A little extra protection never hurt." The two hunters made quick work of wrapping both trees and the box in a thick ring of salt.

Crowley chucked. "That should keep most everything out,"

Aziraphale smiled. "Quite right," he admitted.  He looked over the glade one last time before turning towards the path. "Come on, it is time we got out of here."

"Ya know where you're going, Angel?" Crowley teased.  

Aziraphale tutted at him. "I always know my way to the Eastern Gate."

Crowley chuckled and turned to wait for the Winchesters to follow the angel. Once they had started after Aziraphale,  Crowley looked back at the tree and box. He looked up towards the Heavens. "Keep this safe," he warned. Turning he hurried after the retreating party.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for the adventurers to find themself back at the garden walls. 

“Hey, Angel,” Crowley called from the back of the group.

Aziraphale paused and turned to look at the demon.

“Fancy a side trip,” the demon nodded to a set of steps leading up the inside of the wall.

The angel looked at the steps and bit his lip. He cast his eyes to the sky. The sun was still above the horizon, but it was starting to paint the horizon in golden tones. “We shouldn’t dawdle,” he said. There was longing in his voice, but he knew that they should not stay longer than needed. 

“One last look over Eden,” Crowley tempted as he headed towards the stairs that would take them to the ramparts. “For old times sake.”

Aziraphale bit his lip and rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know.”

Crowley heard the contraction and knew the angel was torn. He wanted to go up, but couldn’t bring himself to act upon that desire. “Come on,” the demon tempted as he mounted the steps. “I’m sure Sam and Dean would love to see the whole of the garden before they're cast out again.” He turned his gaze to the hunters. “Right?”

The brothers both drew in a deep breath and agreed.

“I would like to see the garden,” Sam said.

“It is lovely this time of day,” Crowley tempted again. “He gave his focus back to Aziraphale. “We’re already at the gate.” He waved his hand towards the iron gate just feet away from the stairs. “We could be up and back before the sun fully sets.”

Aziraphale blew out a defeated breath. “Yes, all right,” he agreed. “Just a quick look.” He wave the hunters on. “The climb up will be easier if you drop your packs,” the angel suggested. 

Sam and Dean struggled out of their bag and dropped the on the ground next to the wall. They hurried up the narrow steps after Crowley. 

Shaking his head, Aziraphale followed them up.

The view from the top of the wall was breathtaking. The setting sun spewed reds and golds across the clouds floating in the western sky. 

“Wow,” Dean gasped as he stared out of the lush foliage of Eden.

A fond smile turned up the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth. “It is lovely,” he said softly.

Crowley slipped up and leaned against his angel’s side. “Aren’t you glad I tempted you?”

The angel sighed and wrapped his arm around his husband. An act he would never have dared do the last time they were here. His wing raised and stretched by itself in memory. “Yes,” he whispered. “Thank you, my love.”

Crowley leaned over and laid a soft kiss on the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. “I love you.”

Aziraphale leaned into the kiss and chased the demon as he pulled back. “And I, you.” He settled a soft kiss to Crowley’s lips before pulling back and leaning into the demon’s shoulder. Their eyes turned to the slowly sinking sun.

After a few minutes, Sam’s voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them. “You’ve been here since the beginning.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley shifted so they could see the hunter. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. “I was stationed here before the garden was fully finished.”

“So you were here before Adam was created?” Sam asked.

“He was,” Crowley nodded to the angel. “I came after.”

“But you were here when Adam and Eve were kicked out,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah,” Crowley said sarcastically. “It was kinda my fault.”

“But you were here,” Sam said, turning back to the garden. “And when everything was kicked out you were kicked out too,”

Aziraphale drew in a shock breath, he’d never thought about it that way. He looked out over Eden. “I suppose I was.”

“I was never supposed to be here,” Crowley groused.

“That doesn’t matter,” Sam said as he turned back to the angel and demon. “You were kicked out and instead of going home, you stayed on Earth to watch over man.”

“Hell isn’t much of a home,” Crowley admitted. 

“And I had my orders,” Aziraphale explained. 

“I’m sure there were ways you could have gotten back into Heaven,” Dean remarked.

Aziraphale bit his lip. The hunter was right. He could have put in for a transfer back to Heaven. So many other agents had come and gone in the time he’d been on Earth. He’d considered it a time or two, but he didn’t want to have to explain what happened to his flaming swords. Even now, the Archangels couldn’t prove that he’d given it away. “ I suppose,” he said weakly.

“But you didn’t,” Sam pointed out. “You gave up Heaven for this.” He waved his hand at the world around them. “To watch over the rise and fall of man right up to the end of the world.”

“Which didn’t happen,” Crowley pointed out.

“Thankfully,” Aziraphale added.

“That thanks to you too,” Sam added. “Had you not been there, the world would have ended.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I doubt it,” he admitted. “Adam would not have let it happen.”

“But you were there to give him the support and courage that he needed to stand up to the Devil,” Sam pointed out. “Has anyone ever thanked you for that?”

The angel and demon exchanged looks. In all the time since the apocalypse that hadn’t happened, they had never received more than a passing hint of gratitude or appreciation. “No,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Then let me say it for all of mankind,” Sam said. “Thank you. Thank you for watching over us. Thank you for taking care of us. And thank you for not letting the world end.”

A radiant smile lit Aziraphale’s face. “You are most welcome, my dear boy.” He pulled Crowley into his side and turned to watch the sunset over the garden. “It has been an absolute pleasure.”

Chapter Text

It was nearly dark by the time Crowley, Aziraphale, and the hunters made it down from the wall. 

“Come on,” Aziraphale said as he hurried the group along. They had spent much longer at the top of the wall than planned. The sunset had just been too lovely to not watch to its end. “Mustn't dawdle,” he said nervously as he hurried to the gate. He slipped the key in the lock and opened the gate.

Sam and Dean grab their bags and hurried out past the angel. 

“Will this be ok?” Crowley muttered as he passed the angel.

“It has to be,” Azriaphale said as he stepped out of the garden and pulled the gate closed behind him. He twisted the key and locked Eden up. Turning around, he found Crowley and the Winchesters had stopped just outside the entrance. “What is it?” he asked, moving to see what had them frozen.

A duck sat several feet from the gate. It quacked at them indignantly.

Aziraphale stared at the creature in shock and recognition. “Oh my,” he gasped. He folded his hands over his belly and worried them. “I am so sorry we were late leaving,” he said to the duck. “We stopped at the wall to watch the sunset.”

The duck gave him a sharp look before glancing at the Winchesters. It returned it’s focus to the angel. 

“I know I should not have brought them here, but I had too. They would not let me bring your scroll without them,” the angel explained. “We were all good within your garden.”

The duck gave him one final, penetrating look before quacking and dissolving into flecks of light.

The hunters and Crowley stared at the spot where the duck had disappeared. 

“Was that…” Sam started.

“God?” Dean finished. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said as he turned back to the gate. He placed his hand over the lock and willed the stones to cover the gate once again. They flowed back with just a hit of power. “I told you She was never far.” He picked up the last stone and fit it into the hole, sealing the garden once again. 

“God’s a duck,” Sam said in shock.

"She can be anything She wants to be," Aziraphale explained.

“She's been sleeping in my bed,” Sam exclaimed.

Aziraphale smiled. "You should feel blessed. It is not often the Almighty feels the need to be close to another."

Dean snickered. "You've been snuggling with Chuck," he teased.

Horror made Sam's jaw drop and he stared at his brother, unable to process that.

Shocked, Crowley wobbled over to where the duck had been and collapsed to his knees. “She was here,” he muttered as he reached out and ran his fingers through the grass where the duck had been sitting on. He came back with a single duck feather. “She saw me.”

Aziraphale came over and lowered himself to the ground next to Crowley. He put his arm over the demon’s shoulder and pulled him to his side. “Yes She did,” he said softly.

"I'm alive" the demon gasped. "She doesn't disapprove." He turned his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and sobbed as he clutched the feather.

"No She does not," the angel said. "She hasn't for a while now." He petted his husband in a soothing manner. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other and tried not to watch the demon losing his shit. It was common knowledge that demons could not be in the presence of the Divine, yet Crowley had seen the duck on several occasions. He might not have recognized it for what it was, but he has never suffered in its presence. 

A rustling noise from the nearby brush brough both hunters to high alert. 

“Guys,” Sam called. “I hate to break up an intimate moment, but do you think we could get out of here?”

Dean pulled his gun and pointed it towards where the bush was still moving.

Aziraphale looked up at the noise. “Let there be light,” he said snapping his fingers. A ball of bright light filled the area. Whatever was in the brush scampered off. 

Crowley pulled himself together and wiped his nose on his cuff. He clutched the duck feather but nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said, moving to get up. “Let’s get out of here. 

Chapter Text

The trip back to reality went pretty much the same way the trip to the metaphysical realm had gone. Only this time, Aziraphale was quicker pulling his wings back when the hunters slumped to the library floor.

The quick movement unbalanced the demon and the angel. Both being staggered away from the fallen hunters. Aziraphale let gravity pull him back and he sat hard on the floor.

Crowley's wings smacked into one of the book cases and he grabbed onto it for support.

"Dean," gasped a raspy voice.

Both beings looked up to find Castiel jumping from his chair. He rushed over to the fallen hunters. 

"Where have you done?" Cas snapped sharply as he dropped to the floor. He rolled the hunter up into his lap.

"He will be fine," Aziraphale assured the worried angel. He carefully folded his wings back and out of reality. 

"Traveling between realms is hard," Crowley pointed out. He too folded his wings away. 

Cas considers the angel and demon before turning his attention back to Dean. The hunter was just starting to recover. "Dean?" he said again.

Dean made a pained noise, but moved his hand to pat Cas. "I'm fine," he groaned without opening his eyes.

"Where have you been?" Cas demanded. "You said it would be a quick trip." He looked up at Aziraphale for an answer. "It's been six weeks."

"Six weeks!" Crowley gasped. He looked at Aziraphale in horror. "My plants."

Aziraphale sighed and pulled himself from the floor. "Time must move differently in the other realm. It's only been a few days for us." He swiped at the dirt on his trousers. Unfortunately the journey had ground the dirt in. "I'll never get these clean."

Crowley snapped the stains into oblivion, leaving Aziraphale as crisp and clean as ever.

The angel smiled at his husband, pleased. "Thank you."

Crowley waved the gratitude away.

"But you said the trip would only take a few hours," Cas complained. 

"It's not their fault," Dean said, finally opening his eyes. His hand found the clasp of his pack and unhooked it. "There was an accident." He slipped out of the pack and sat up. "We had to walk to Eden."

"An accident?" Cas said, worried.

"I fell on Aziraphale's wing," Sam admitted. He unhooked his pack and pulled out of the shoulder straps. "Dislocated the wrist." He sat up, but slouched, still recovering. 

Cas gave Aziraphale a pained look.

"It is better now," Aziraphale admitted. "But it did keep us from flying to Eden."

"So it's done?" Cas asked. "The scroll is safe?"

"As safe as it will ever be," Aziraphale offered. He pulled one of the chairs out from the table and sat down.

"And you're okay," Cas asked looking at each person in turn. "All of you?"

"It may take us a few days to fully recover," Aziraphale admitted. "But we are unharmed."

"No thanks to the fairies," Crowley said with a snicker. He stood up from the bookcase he was leaning on.

"Fairies?" Cas asked, looking around for an answer.

"You should ask Dean about that," the demon said as he moved towards the kitchen, not quite up to his normal saunter. "Tea, Angel?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes please," Aziraphale called back. He stood up to follow the demon into the kitchen.

"Fairies?" Cas said, looking at Dean.

"I don't want to talk about the fairies," Dean groused as he got up from the floor.

Sam chuckled. "They were better than the cockatrice," the hunter pointed out.

"Damn fairies and their singing bubbles," Dean grumbled as he grabbed his bag from the floor to put it away.

"Fairies, " Cas said again as he got up and followed Dean out.

Sam sat on the floor, recovering in the silence. He closed his eyes and relaxed his mind. So much stuff has happened in the last few days. He was going to need time to decompress. 

The soft quack of a duck broke into his thoughts. 

Shocked, Sam opened his eyes and looked around, but there was no duck to be seen. A shiver ran down Sam's spine. Pushing up from the floor, he grabbed his pack and headed towards the door to the garage to put things away. Company suddenly seemed like a very good thing to have.

Chapter Text

"I have a question," Dean said, breaking into the comfortable silence that had settled in the library.  

Sam looked up from the old book he'd borrowed from Aziraphale.

"If God was the duck, why did She knock Crowley and Cas out and try to steal the scroll?" Dean asked.

Sam gave his brother a confused look. “After everything else, you’re going to ask that?”

Dean cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at his brother as he thought. “Everything else makes sense.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and he pulled in a breath, not sure what to say. There were a lot of things that happened that didn’t make a lick of sense.

"I do not think She was trying to steal the scroll," Aziraphale said from the wing-back chair he'd brought in from the other room. He looked up from the book he was reading. "I think She was testing the box's security."

Both of the brothers looked over to the angel where he lounged with his feet up on a matching ottoman. “Testing the box?” Dean said. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, letting the book he'd been reading drop to his lap. “If it were me, I would want to make sure the box was safe and secure before leaving it to protect something so dangerous. I can only assume She would want to do the same.”

Dean thought about this for a moment. He was inclined to believe the angel’s words. “Okay,” he relented. “You have a point, but I still don’t understand why Cas didn't wake up after She left.”

The boys all speculated on this for a minute. 

“We did startle Her,” Sam pointed out. “Maybe She forgot.”

“Or maybe She thought a sssertain angel needed a good sssnogging,” the snake draped around Aziraphale’s shoulders hissed. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “I always need a good kiss,” he admitted and placed a soft kiss on the snake’s head.

The snake let out a hissy laugh and bumped his snout against the angel’s cheek. “I wasssn’t talk’n about you.”

Dean’s face flushed bright red and he buried his face back into the work he’d been doing. 

Chapter Text

Crowley flounced through the library with a more eager step than his normal saunter. “Oi, Angel,” he cried. 

It was the only warning Aziraphale had before the demon dropped himself over the edge of the wing-back chair and into his lap. Thankfully, Aziraphale was used to this antic and moved his book to accept the demon’s weight. “Crowley,” he reprimanded. There wasn’t enough harshness in the angel’s voice to be a true scolding, but it was enough to pull both Dean and Sam’s attention away from their respective endeavors (Sam was busy with one of Aziraphale’s books and Dean was watching some movie with a lot of good explosions).

“Read to me,” the demon demanded as he wiggled into a comfortable position in the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale sighed and pulled the book he’d been reading around so he could see it.

“Not that one,” Crowley said, plucking the book from his hand and closing it. If a single black feather miracled itself in as a bookmark, the demon would never say. He dropped it on the floor next to the chair. “Read this one!” He held out a paperback. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but gave in to the demon’s demands. He took the book and looked at the black cover. “Is this more of your Be-Bop?” he asked looking at the mass market paperback. The image on the cover was of two shirtless guys standing next to an old car.

“Be-Bop’s music,” Crowley corrected. “You’ll like this.” He wiggled until he was curled on the angel in a way that made Sam and Dean’s bones ache. 

“All right,” Aziraphale said. He opened the book to the title page. “Supernatural. By Chuck Shurley.”

“Oh Hell no!” Dean cursed and stood up. He stormed over and ripped the book out of Aziraphale’s hand. “Where the fuck did you get this?”

Aziraphale’s hands hung in front of him. Shock at having the book ripped from his hands covered his face.

Crowley glared up at the hunter. “Found it in the store room. There’s a whole set of um down there.”

Dean turned horror filled eyes to Sam. “I thought you said you got rid of there?”

“I did,” Sam said, dropping Aziraphale’s book to the table. “They shouldn’t be there.”

Taking the book, Dean turned and rushed from the room with Sam hot on his heels. 

Aziraphale reached out his hand and whimpered as the book rushed from the room with the hunters. He still hadn’t comprehended how Dean had been strong enough to rip it from his fingers. He never let anyone take a book from his hands like that.

“Shhh,” Crowley soothed as he slipped from the angel’s lap. He held out a second copy of the book for Aziraphale to take. “You read, I’ll take care of them.”

Shock and surprise still covered the bewildered angel’s face, but he took the book. As soon as he spoke the author’s name, Aziraphale knew what this book was. True prophecy, written by God himself. This was better than finding the copy of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies in the back of Crowley’s car. He opened the book with a reverence he hadn’t shown the first one and began to read to himself.

Satisfied his angel was content, Crowley squared his shoulders and stormed after Dean and Sam. No one took a book away from his angel.

Chapter Text

“Sam!” 

His brother’s distressed cry brought Sam fully awake. “Dean?” he called back. 

“Help me,” Dean called. 

Sam threw back his covers and hurried to find his brother. “Dean?” he called again.

“In here,” Dean yelled.

The call had come from Dean’s room. Sam hurried over to the partially open door and pushed on it. “Dean?” Sam asked. The room was dark, but he could see something was wrong with Dean’s bed. Reaching over, Sam hit the light switch. The sight that met him froze him in place. Some time in the night, part of the bed frame had collapsed, allowing the boxspring to slip out. The mattress on top had managed to slip out in the other direction and the pair had folded up around the older hunter, trapping in the beding. 

Dean thrashed around, unable to get up. “Help me,” he cried again.

Giggles slipped out as Sam came over to try to extract his brother from the bedding.

“This isn’t funny,” Dean growled indignity as Sam pulled the blankets free.

That made Sam laugh harder as they struggled to get Dean up. “Actually…”

Dean glared at him as he finally managed to get to his feet. He wiped his hands on his sleep pants as if he was dusting himself off. “It’s not.” He turned and glared at the offending bed. 

Bearly containing his mirth, Sam looked at the bed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said with a growl. He got closer to where the frame had parted. A bolt had sheared in half. He picked up the broken pieces. “Why does this keep happening?” he asked, showing his brother the damage. 

The last few days had been hell. If Murphy had had a poster child, his name would have been Dean Winchester.  Everything that could possibly have gone wrong had. 

Their hunt had been horrible for Dean. His gun had jammed, he couldn’t get the vial of holy water to break, and he'd managed to drop his notebook in a puddle right when he needed it the most. Sam had managed to pull his ass out of the fire and banish the ghost before it had done any real damage. Salting and burning the bones hadn’t gone well either. Dean’s shovel had broken, the box of salt had been empty, and he couldn’t get any of the matches to light. On the way home, the impala had run out of gas and all of his tapes had reverted to the Best of Queen even though he’d remembered to take them out of the car.

And that wasn’t the only bad luck Dean had had. He’d broken two shoelaces, fallen up the stairs three times, and couldn’t get Sam’s computer to play anything but defecation porn at very loud volumes. That had gotten a raised eyebrow form the angel currently occupying their library. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Aziraphale has somehow found another copy of that blasted book and was reading his way through the Supernatural series. 

Sam took the broken metal and touched the damaged end. “You haven’t had this much bad luck since that rabbit’s foot thing.”

Dean looked at the bolt with trepidation as he remembered the magical item that had nearly killed both of them with bad luck. He turned worried eyes up to his brother. “Do you think I’m cursed?”

A grimace bent Sam’s face. “Maybe we should call Cas.”

***

Cas turned the broken bolt in his fingers and considered everything as he listened to Dean.

“And that’s just this morning,” Dean concluded. He’s spent the last ten minutes telling Castiel about the lights in the bathroom that flickered as he walked past, the shower head stuck on cold, the toilets that wouldn’t flush, and the missing rolls of toilet paper. 

The angel tipped his head over looking at Dean. “You’re cursed,” he finally said. He pointed at the area around Dean. “I can see it in your aura. Traces of demonic energy that aren’t your own.”

“Who would curse him?” Sam asked, staring at his brother in horror. 

Cas pursed his lips thinking. “There is a demon in your midst.”

Dean gave him a shocked look. “Crowley?” he said, incredulously. “Why would he curse me?”

“He is a demon,” Sam pointed out. 

“But he’s not,” Dean exclaimed. “He’s retired.”

“But he’s still a demon,” Cas said again.

“He saved us,” Dean pointed out. “He wouldn’t curse us.”

“He only cursed you,” Cas explained. He looked over at the younger brother. “Sam is not affected.”

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Can you break it?" 

Cas considered him for a long minute. He waved his hand at Dean, but nothing happened. "It's a very strong curse," he admitted.

“But why would he do that?” Dean whined.

Cas and Sam exchanged a look, but didn’t have an answer. “Why don’t we go ask?” Sam suggested.

Chapter Text

“Aziraphale,” Castiel said, leading the way into the library. Sam and Dean trailed behind him.

Aziraphale looked up from his book. “Hello, Castiel,” he said. He pulled his feet from the footstool and sat up taller. 

“Where is the Serpent?” Castiel said, holding out the broken bolt for Aziraphale to see. 

Unsure what was going on, Aziraphale closed his book and stood up. He reached out and took the bolt. “I am not sure,” he admitted. “What has he done now?” Aziraphale looked at the damaged bolt and could easily detect the miracle that had broken the metal. It was very familiar.

“He’s cursed Dean,” Castiel explained. 

Anger tightened Aziraphale’s face. He looked up and around the library. “Crowley,” he called. “Come here. Explain this.” He held the bolt up to the room.

“Desssservessss it,” the demon hissed from his hiding spot. His voice echoed around the room, making it impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from.

“He does not,” Aziraphale said, stomping his foot. “Come out here and fix this.”

“Dossssseeee,” the hiss came. This time it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the room. 

Aziraphale turned towards the sound. “Do you want to come out and explain?”

“No,” Crowley hissed. “He knowssss.”

This irritated the angel more. “I am warning you, Crowley.”

“When he apologizsssesssss,” the demon hissed.

Anger flashed in Aziraphale’s eye. He turned his gaze to Castiel and the hunters. “I am so very sorry about this,” he said, trying to give them a smile. “If you will allow me, I will undo what Crowley has done.” He held out the bolt to, offering it up along with his assistance.

“It’s strong,” Cas said, taking the broken bolt. He stepped back, giving Aziraphale access to Dean.

The smile that turned Aziraphale’s mouth showed his fondness for the demon. “I have known Crowley for a long time,” he said reassuringly. “There is very little he would do that I can not undo.” He looked at Dean. “If you will let me.”

Dean nodded his agreement. 

Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale ignored him. He clutched the book in one hand and placed the other on Dean’s sternum. He closed his eyes and focused on the curse. After a few seconds, his brow furrowed and he made an appreciative noise. Opening his eyes, he looked at Dean. “It’s an amazing piece of demonic art,” Aziraphale admitted. “The curse is designed to inconvenience and annoy without truly harming. Intricately woven together to keep others from tampering with it.” He paused to consider the spell. “I could remove it, but it would require a great deal of energy and would not be pleasant.”

Dean huffed in several breaths before steeling his nerves. “Do it,” he growled.

One of Aziraphale’s delicate eyebrows rose over his eye. “There is an easier way,” he admitted.

The hunter gave him a pointed look. “How?”

Aziraphale let his hand drop away from Dean’s chest. “All of the threads come to a single weak point. A heartfelt apology will break it.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean cried to the hidden demon. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”

A hiss echoed around the room. Crowley wiggled out of his hiding place in the top of one of the bookshelves and dropped to the floor. He shifted back to his humanish shape before hitting the ground. Standing up, he glared at the hunter. “Not to me,” he hissed coming over to stand behind Aziraphale. He wrapped his arm around the angel’s upper body and pinned the angel against him. 

Aziraphale squeaked in surprise.

“To him,” Crowley demanded.

Sam, Dean, and Cas stared at the demon in shock.

“To Aziraphale?” Sam asked, confused. 

Turning his head, Aziraphale looked at the demon. “To me?”

“Yess you,” Crowley hissed as he nuzzled Aziraphale’s hair. He glared daggers at Dean. “You’re lucky,” the demon growled at the hunter. “Few assault my husband and remain intact.”

“Assault!” Castiel gasped and turned to look at Dean.

Dean’s jaw had hit the floor. An offended look overtook the shock. “I never assaulted him!”

“ Crowley ,” Aziraphale said mortified that his demon would suggest such a thing. 

Crowley held him tighter. “You did,” he insisted. His hand ran down Aziraphale’s arm and gently eased the book from his hand. “You mugged him for this.” He held Chuck’s book up for them all to see. 

Dean’s mouth dropped open again and he drew in confused breath. “I didn’t mug him,” he said more gently.

“You did,” Sam said as he started putting things together. 

Dean turned betrayed eyes to his brother. “No I didn’t,” he denied again.

“But you did,” Sam said enlightenment coursing through him. “You jumped him, stole the book, and ran off.”

“He was reading those stupid books,” Dean snapped. He reached out to try to grab the book from Crowley’s hand. 

The demon yanked it back.

“They are not stupid,” Aziraphale said as he reached up and carefully took the book back from Crowley. “They are books of true prophecy.” He petted his hand over the cover as if it was one of his ancient tombs. “Do you have any idea how rare that is?” He cuddled the book close to his chest. A hurt expression bent his face.

“They were just Chuck’s idea of fucking with us,” Dean snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and snorted his irritation. Disappointment burned in the angel’s eyes. “Take me home.”

Before anyone could say or do anything else, Crowley snapped and both he and Aziraphale disappeared.

“Nice going, jerk,” Sam cried as he turned and slugged his brother in the shoulder. “You just pissed off the one person who could break your curse.” He turned away from his brother. His eyes fell on the table where he’d been working and noticed the stack of books was no longer there. “And they took the books!” he cried. He glared at his brother and stormed out of the room. 

“It’s not my fault,” Dean yelled after his brother. He huffed and turned back to Cas. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Cas sighed heavily and gave Dean a disappointed look. “Let me see what I can do.” Before Dean could say anything, Cas winked out of sight.

“It’s not my fault,” Dean yelled to the empty room. He let out a great sigh and let his shoulders drop, defeated. “It’s Chuck’s,” he muttered

Chapter Text

Cuddling the pillow under his head, Dean wiggled on the couch trying to get more comfortable. The cushions had separated again leaving a small gap that was annoying. He’d have to get up to fix it… again. Doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable couch, Dean rearranged the blanket. The tartan blanket Aziraphale had left was still amazingly soft, but it seemed smaller and didn’t quite cover Dean properly. It kept wanting to slip off and onto the floor. Unfortunately it was the only blanket the hunter had, having spilt an entire glass of juice on his own bedding. 

Dean sniffed, trying to clear his sinuses. Somehow he’d caught a cold without even going out. His head was stopped up so he couldn’t breathe properly and his eyes watered furiously. A single gnat fluttered around Dean’s face, but the hunter didn’t move to shoo it away. He’d been trying to get the bug to leave him alone for several hours now with no success.

In short, Dean was miserable.

He had been so since Crowley had taken Aziraphale home, but he could not think of a way to stop being miserable. Cas had tried to talk Crowley into lifting the curse, but the demon had refused, claiming the hunter needed to “learn a lesson”. What lesson was Dean going to learn from this? Demons were dicks? He already knew that. Dean was starting to think everyone needed to be put in that category. 

Sammy wasn’t speaking to him. He would check to make sure Dean was all right, but he refused anything more the curt conversation. He also refused to let Dean out of the bunker until they could find a way to break the curse. Minor bad luck at the wrong time could put them all in danger.  

Castiel had hung around for a bit, but had to go take care of some things in Heaven. This left Dean with nothing left to do.

Trying to alleviate his boredom had been a nightmare. Sam’s computer would work for the younger hunter, but when Dean got a hold of it, it played infomercials or bad porn that left Dean feeling queasy. Dean tried reading, but all of the edge of his magazines had gotten stuck together. After that, Sam wouldn’t let him near any of the books in the library. This was starting to get ridiculous. 

 All of this was over Chuck’s little bastardization of their lives. Why the Hell would anyone want to read that? Dean sure didn’t want Aziraphale reading that, thinking it was a true portrayal of their characters. There were things in there that he wasn’t very proud of. Things he didn’t want anyone to know or remember, but that damn demon had slithered up into the angel’s lap and insisted he read it… out loud.

He was still pissed at Crowley for that one. 

Dean still had no idea how the books had gotten into the storeroom. Chuck had gifted them with a sighed, first edition set, but he was sure Sam had disposed of them. The Men of Letters should not have a full set of books tucked away in their store room.  How did it get there? Dean closed his eyes to think.

The soft rustling of feathers drew his attention. 

He opened his eyes, expecting to see Cas, but the angel wasn’t there. The duck sat on the table staring at him. Dean glared at it. “This is all your fault,” he growled without moving. “If you hadn’t written those stupid books, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

The duck gave him a reproachful look and quacked at him.

Dean glared at it for a long minute before letting out a sigh and letting his anger go. He closed his eyes as he thought. “That’s wrong too,” he admitted. He opened his eyes to stare at the duck again. “You may have written those damn books, but they are the stories of our lives. We can’t change that.” 

The duck sat quietly on the table watching Dean. Waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“I probably shouldn’t have gotten mad at Az for wanting to read them,” Dean finally admitted. He rolled to his back and draped his arm over his eyes. “I don’t like having my life put out there for others to see. It’s my life.”

The duck made soft duckish noises.

“I know, I know,” Dean said. “My life isn’t really my own. It’s all part of your plan.” He snickered sickly. “It’s ineffable,” he said, stealing Aziraphale’s line.

The duck quacked reproachfully. 

Dean lifted his arm and peeked at the duck. “Are you telling me I had a choice in this?” 

The duck flapped its wings, sending bits of down scattering across the table. 

A rude snort slipped out of the hunter. He laid his arm back down over his eyes. “I’m all for Free Will, but your choices suck.”

The duck made more duckish noises that almost sounded apologetic. 

Dean thought for a few more minutes, listening to the duck. “I probably should apologize to Aziraphale. I may not have liked that he had those books, but he did not deserve what I did.”

The duck quacked in agreement.

Lifting his arm again, Dean turned to look at the duck, but the bird was gone. A paperback novel sat on the table where the waterfowl had been. “Not again,” Dean sighed as he reached for the book. He looked at the black cover with the white figure leaning back on a pair of white wings. The halo and book gave the character’s identity away. He laughed out loud before reading the title. Good Omens, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch . He stared at the halo and devil’s tail drawn into the title. So they weren’t the only ones God had immortalized in pulp fiction.

 Dean opened the book to find it was a first edition, signed by the original others. The inscription of Burn this Book made him chuckle. The duck footprint underneath was even more absurd. Giving in to his boredom and curiosity, he flipped to the first page and began to read.

Chapter Text

Standing on the corner in Soho, Dean looked up at the two story building. It was just as Sam had described. His eyes wanted to slide past the corner shop to the erotic bookshop next door. Definitely a place that set his hunter senses tingling. Dean looked up and down the street looking for the black Bentley Sam had described. It was nowhere to be seen. “Are you sure they are here?” Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at Cas. 

“London is not my stronghold,” Cas explained. “But this is definitely Aziraphale’s shop and we are here during the times he has listed for open hours.”

Dean snorted in amusement. He’d read over the shop hours in the book the duck had left, but didn’t quite believe they were true. No one kept hours like that. “Come on,” Dean said. He took a deep breath, checked for traffic, and led the way across the busy street to the shop. 

Castiel followed close on his tail. 

He wasn’t surprised that the open sign matched that in the book. They were slightly out of time with the posted hours, and the sign was flipped to close, but the door was unlocked. Dean pushed it open. A small bell chimed above them.

“I’m sorry, we are already closed,” came a familiar voice from the back room.

“Aziraphale?” Dean called.

Silence rang out through the room for a moment, before the angel’s footsteps could be heard. 

“Dean?” Aziraphale asked, coming out of the backroom. He tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat, straightening it. “I didn’t expect to see you in London.” He looked to Castiel and then to the door behind them. “Did your brother come too?”

Dean took a tentative step into the room. “No,” he said softly. “I came alone.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed up to Castiel. 

“He brought me,” Dean explained.

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head in curiosity. “Well, do come in,” he said in a pleasant manner that was somewhat cold. “I will put on some tea.” The angel turned and disappeared into the backroom again. 

Dean licked his lips and looked back at Cas. 

“It will be all right,” Castiel said, soothing him. 

Dean drew in another breath and nodded. He made his way through the tower bookshelves to the doorway Aziraphale had gone through. 

“Come in,” the angel said as he puttered around the small kitchen. “Please, have a seat.” He waved at the small table set for three. 

Taking one of the chairs, Dean set the bag he’d been carrying on the floor and waited for Aziraphale to finish making tea. He was quiet until they were all settled in place with tea and biscuits.

“So what brings you to London?” Aziraphale finally asked. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurted out. 

Aziraphale froze with his cup halfway to his mouth. 

“I shouldn’t have taken the book from you,” Dean continued.

Aziraphale finished raising the cup to his lips and took a long sip. He set the cup back down on the sauser and adjusted it slightly. “We all make mistakes,” he said softly. “I forgive you.”

“No,” Dean said sharply.

Aziraphale looked up from his cup in surprise.

“I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me,” Dean admitted. “You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

The cold atmosphere around Aziraphale melted and he gave Dean a genuinely warm smile. “We all have our fatal flaws,” he admitted, forgiving Dean his. “I probably should have asked before reading a book about your life.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dean said, reaching for the bag on the floor. He pulled it up and set it on his knee. He pulled out most of the books and placed them on the table. “Here.”

Aziraphale smiled at the complete Supernatural series. “Thank you, but I already have those.”

Dean smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “But these are first editions. Signed by the author.” 

The angel froze in shock. He stared at the stack of black books. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to snatch the books up. “Signed by the author?” he asked. 

Taking the top book, Dean handed it to Aziraphale. 

The angel took it gently and opened it to the title page. His breath stuttered as he read over the information. He looked up at Dean in shock. “Where did you get these?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Chuck gave them to us before he left.”

Aziraphale held the book back out for Dean to take. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take your books,” he said. There was a hint of longing in his voice.

Dean smiled. “Please,” he said. “Sam and I don’t want them in the bunker anymore.”

Azirpahale stared at him for a long minute. “If you are sure?”

“We’re sure,” he said. 

The angel got up and moved the stack of first editions from the table to the other room, safely away from the food. “Thank you,” he said, sitting back in his chair. 

“I’ve got one more for you,” Dean said as he pulled the last book out of his bag. He held the black book in his fingers thinking about the story within. “I can’t be mad at you for reading a story about my life. Not after this.” He held the book out for Aziraphale to take. 

The angel moved as if the book would explode. “The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch?” he read from the cover. His eyes jumped up to meet Dean’s. “There is only one copy of that book,” he squeaked.

“This isn’t Agnes's book of prophecies,” Dean explained. “It’s the story around them and the end of the world.”

Aziraphale gasped and flipped the book over to read the back cover material.

“It’s a first edition,” Dean explained. “Also signed by the authors.”

“I didn’t know someone had written our story,” Aziraphale said opening it to the title page to look at the signatures. He looked up in shock. “How did you find it?”

Dean smiled. “A little birdy left it for me.”

Enlightenment dawned on Aziraphale and he drew in a breath to speak, but nothing came out. 

A smile curled the edges of Dean’s mouth. “I didn’t tell Sam about it.”

A blush raced up the angel’s face. He closed the book, set it on the table, and placed his hand over the angel, hiding it from view. “Yes, well,” he muttered embarrassed. “That’s probably for the best.”

Dean looked at the book. “It doesn't say how Crowley survived the holy water,” he explained.

Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh. “Now that is for the best.” He slid the book off the table and hit it in his lap. He smiled brightly. “More tea?”

Chapter Text

Tension tightened the muscles in the back of Dean’s neck.  He twisted his head and the misaligned vertebrae popped with a satisfying sound. The tension and pain rushed out of the hunter. That had been a satisfying hunt. Everything had gone perfect for a change. Almost as if they were blessed.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion that a certain angel was extremely happy with his apology. 

Walking into the library, Dean froze when his eyes fell on something that did not belong. “Sammy,” he said, drawing his brother’s attention. 

“Hmmmm?” his brother said in a weary voice from behind him.

Dean nodded at a cardboard box that hadn’t been on the table before they left. He pulled the angel blade out of the back of his pants and looked around for the intruder that could have left the box.

Sam eyed the box and pulled his gun. 

The pair looked around the room as they eased their way through the door. When nothing seemed out of place (besides the box), they crept up on the carton. A letter sat on top of the box. 

Holstering his gun, Sam picked up the letter. Their names were written on the front in a familiar copperplate handwriting. “I think it’s from Aziraphale,” the younger hunter said and opened the letter to read.

Dean looked at the box. It was one of those banker boxes used to store things. Unable to see any traps, be carefully lifted the top off. He smiled at the contents.  "It is from Az," he said, setting the top to the side. He reached in, pulled out a package wrapped in paper printed with the angel's tartan, and held it up for Sam to see.

Sam glanced up from the letter to see the package before turning his attention back to the page. “It's a gift,” Sam explains as he finished the letter. “Aziraphale didn't like how things had been left. He appreciates your apology and wanted to send a token to show there were no hard feelings. He says that Crowley included some gifts too.” He held the letter out for Dean to look at.

Dean took the letter and scanned over it.

Sam drew the box to the edge of the table and started unloading it. 

Lowering the letter, Dean looked at the objects Sam sat on the table. There were two presents wrapped in tartan paper, two bottles of apple wine, and a stack of books. Each had a note on it. Dean grabbed the note on the apple wine. The sharp writing was obviously Crowley’s.  

“Share this with your angel,” Dean read. He glared at the note. “Why does he want me to share this with Cas?”

Sam shrugged as he reached for the stack of books. “Not sure, but I would probably do it,” he said. “I don't think you want to piss Crowley off again.”

Dean thought about it for a moment before moving the bottles a little further from the edge. “Probably a good idea,” he admitted. “Cas did say to call him the next time we were drinking demon wine.”

Sam chuckled as he picked up one of the books. Surprise lit his face. “Is this…” he gasped as he turned the book over in his hand and looked at it. It was one of the books he’d been reading before the angel had left. He opened the cover to find a note tucked inside. “Aziraphale is loaning them to me,” he said as he read through the note. “I didn’t think he’d let these out of his sight.”

Dean chuckled. “I guess I did a good job in apologizing.”

Sam pursed his lips and glared at his brother. “If you weren’t so much of a jerk, you wouldn’t have to apologize.”

Dean glared back. “Bitch,” he growled. He picked up one of the packages and read the tag. “This one’s yours.” He held it out to his brother. 

Sam set the book down and took the lumpy package. He gave it a gentle squeeze and found that it was rather soft. 

Dean picked up the second package. It was much smaller than his brothers. He tore the paper off to find a stack of tapes. The Best of Queen sat on the top. Dean sneered at it. There was no doubt Crowley had a hand in this gift. “Of course he’d send Queen.” Dean looked through the rest of the tapes. There was actually some good music included. Towards the bottom of the stack there was a note. Flipping it open, Dean chuckled. 

Sam looked up from his present to see what was funny. 

Dean held out the slip of paper. “Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all.”

Sam took the paper and read over the promise that these tapes would not turn into Queen if left in the car.  Sam smiled. “I don’t know about that,” he said as he held up the demon’s gift to him. 

Dean laughed at the stuffed duck in his brother’s hand.