Chapter Text
I will not be questioned!
Crowley grit his teeth and tugged at the bonds at his wrists.
When he and Aziraphale had figured out what the prophecy was telling them, it hadn't really occurred to him that their plan involved going back to Heaven. Back to the white bird cage in the sky which he had never thought he would see again.
Had never really wanted to see again.
But lo and behold, Gabriel, Uriel and Sandalphon had dragged him bound and gagged back to Heaven. Of course, they thought they had Aziraphale, they would never guess they had a demon in his place.
Never mind exactly who that demon had been.
Gabriel would never believe it if he was told who he was talking to. Who he had captured.
He had also never expected to see his siblings again. Hadn't wanted to.
It had been so very long since he had.
As long as it had been since he had really had the right to call them his siblings.
But he had walked on consecrated ground for Aziraphale and burned the soles of his feet so bloody he couldn't walk for a month, he had betrayed hell for Aziraphale, he had driven through an impassable ring of fire for Aziraphale.
He could face his siblings for Aziraphale.
"Ah! Aziraphale! So glad you could join us."
"You could have just sent a message." It came out snarkier than he had meant. But surely God's precious messenger could have sent a message.
He harbored no love for Gabriel. Not anymore. Not after the apocalypse that wasn't.
Maybe once. Long, long ago. More than six thousand years ago.
Before the fall. "I mean, a kidnapping in broad daylight."
"Call it was it was, an extraordinary rendition!" Gabriel corrected.
Crowley fought the urge to glare at him. Gabriel had always been a touch show offish, always wanted credit he believed was due.
A shame God's messenger wouldn't take the same humbling fall God's healer had gotten.
Why must they suffer, Mother?
It is my will.
But he was not Crowley, and he was certainly not God's healer. He was Aziraphale for the moment, and Aziraphale wouldn't glare.
So he forced himself to be calm, and continue to just watch Gabriel intently.
"Now. Have we heard from our new associate?" Gabriel asked.
"He's on his way," Uriel said.
Crowley had already been long gone when that particular sister had come into existence. The last one to know him had been Gabriel.
Gabriel grinned. "He's on his way. I think you're gonna like this, I really do. And I bet you didn't see this one coming."
Crowley was willing to bet that he had. It would be why it was he, in Aziraphale's body, had been the one to go to Heaven and was now facing three of his younger siblings. His brother had always been predictable. Michael was a worthier opponent than Gabriel. She had wit and a brain behind her.
Gabriel had learned to recite the meaning of the word ineffable before anything else. It was very telling when it came to his every other trait.
Well, ex-siblings and ex-brother. He was fairly sure that if any of them did know, if God hadn't kept the second felled archangel to herself, they wouldn't still be thinking of a demon as their brother.
He had heard from Aziraphale that the common rumour was that Raphael was making stars in some corner of the universe.
He hadn't corrected the angel.
Footsteps stalked along the ground behind Crowley. He didn't twist to see. Watched the lower demon walk across the floor. "You don't get this view down in the basement," he remarked, glancing around before tossing something at a containment circle on the ground.
Just as Crowley had thought.
A pillar of infernal flames sprung up from the ground. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Gabriel looked down at him with a false smile. His purple eyes betrayed him, told Crowley exactly what Gabriel was thinking.
Oh, he was happy. Happy to see Aziraphale burn away to nothing.
Crowley fought the urge to smile back. Aziraphale wouldn't. Aziraphale's face may have betrayed his every thought but the angel wouldn't have smiled.
"So. With one act of treason, you averted the war."
Crowley did smile, feigning nervousness, then. "Well, I think, for the greater good-"
"Don't talk to me about the great good, sunshine, I'm the Archangel fucking Gabriel."
And I'm the Archangel fucking Raphael, so I outrank you. Crowley knew better than to say it.
But why, Mother?
No more questions, my Raphael. My will must not be questioned.
"The greater good was that we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all!"
Uriel marched herself over to Crowley. He decided immediately that he didn't like this particular archangel.
Not that he really liked any of them, anymore.
But he had loved them, once. His brothers and sister, now torn apart by the hands of God herself. Ripped away from each other.
I WILL NOT HAVE YOU QUESTIONING ME, RAPHAEL!
"Up." Uriel ordered, pulling the ropes from his wrist. Crowley stood, looked at the fire, and then at Gabriel.
Then back again.
He supposed he had better plea. Really, he would gladly step into the fire without complaint, it might even restore some of his severely expended power, but Aziraphale couldn't want to be destroyed.
So as much at his made him want to vomit, to beg his younger brother for his life, Crowley had to try. "I don't suppose I can persuade you do reconsider? We're meant to be the good guys, for Heaven's sake."
Gabriel was clearly unimpressed by that attempt. "And for Heaven's sake, we're meant to make examples out of traitors. So, into the flame."
Crowley gave another nervous smile. Took a few steps forward. The heat bathed his face.
He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's face. "I- Well- lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion."
"Shut your stupid mouth, and die already."
Another fake smile. Crowley's blood started to boil.
Gabriel could do and say what he liked about demons, but that was a step too far. No one spoke to Aziraphale like that.
He set his jaw, and walked directly into the pillar. He could feel Gabriel's sadistic smile, Uriel and Sandalphon's eyes on him, eagerly observing his destruction.
The fire smarted, nothing in Hell was painless. It didn't burn like the fall, it stung like the aftermath.
Welcome home, brother.
This is not my home.
It is now.
Crowley flexed his fingers, cracked his neck.
The smile morphed to shock. The demon could feel, just as he had predicted, his strength returning.
He turned towards his younger siblings and roared, expelling fire in a jet towards them.
Gabriel grabbed them and jumped them back.
Crowley wouldn't have let then get hit, anyways.
"It may be worse than we thought," Gabriel said.
"What is he?" Uriel asked.
Crowley's first response would have been "the Archangel Raphael, the Healer." and to attempt to pull rank over what had been his youngest brother, at the time of his fall. The healer did, in the grand scheme of things, outrank the messenger, and he was older than Gabriel, after all.
Another part of him revolted, wanted to burn the part that said Raphael-the-Healer in this infernal fire, and say "The Serpent of Eden." To transform into that form and lunge at the Archangels and exact his fury for the harm they had tried to cause Aziraphale.
But he was neither of those things right now. He was Aziraphale, Principality of the Eastern Gate.
So he said nothing.
Simply stepped out of the fire. "I believe it is best for everyone, Gabriel, if I am left alone, from now on."
He patted out the remaining smolders on the shoulders of Aziraphale's coat and resolved to miracle away the damage before he met the angel in St. James park.
Gabriel nodded.
Crowley forced himself not to sneer at his younger brother as he walked by to leave.
At the younger brother he had once loved almost more than anyone else.
At the only sibling of his whom Crowley didn't know, but knew what his fate had been.
It was Gabriel's idea.
They each a traitor to deal with. Heaven, the Principality Aziraphale, Hell, the demon Crowley, Serpent of Eden.
And sure, Heaven could have given a tongue-lashing and sent the Principality on his way.
But then Hell had come seeking something only Heaven could give them.
Utter destruction.
And well, if Hell was going to make an example out of their traitor demon, Gabriel had reasoned, then Heaven should do the same with their traitorous angel.
And thus, and exchange. Heaven got Infernal Fire in exchange for the contents of the pitcher Michael was holding in her hands.
Michael had offered to go to Hell. Gabriel had been going to send Uriel, keep Michael to witness the Principality's demise, but the idea of watching an angel's destruction, even if that angel was a traitor, had sat wrong with Michael.
After all, the traitors last time had simply fell. Michael, Gabriel and her missing brother Raphael had witnessed the fall firsthand, seen their brother Samael fall from grace, fall from Heaven to the sulphurous pits of Hell.
Gabriel and Michael had watched in silence.
Raphael had cried for their brother. Inconsolably, although Michael and Gabriel had tried to comfort him.
After witnessing Samael's fall, Michael's younger brother had left Heaven. She hadn't seen him since he had cried watching Samael plummet light years away.
God assured her that Raphael was making the stars at her orders, but Michael knew that Raphael had likely asked to be allowed to leave and been granted that assignment as a favour. He hadn't the stomach for the war, hadn't the stomach to witness God's wrath. He was their Mother's healer and he loved to paint the stars, he was not made for war and spite.
He was made of softer things.
Michael missed him.
The fall, as could be attested by the witnesses, had been brutal enough.
Infernal Fire was another thing entirely.
So Michael had said she would bring the Holy Water and avoid witnessing the destruction of an angel.
She was starting to regret it, as the rickety elevator descended, far faster than was necessary, shaking and rattling and creaking like it was about to send her plummeting into the depths. The lights flickered.
Still, she remained calm and poised. The demons would know better than to cause her harm.
The elevator shuddered to a halt and pinged. The doors opened.
"-the punishment fit the crime." Hastur was gloating.
Michael could hardly blame him. She walked out of the elevator, down a hallway of similarly flickering lights.
Stepped into the room at the end.
Five demons awaited her. Beelzebub on their throne, flies buzzing their face. Hastur stood next to a bathtub, a grin on his face. Dagon stood beside the throne, a guide beside her, both smiling pointedly at the remaining demon.
The Serpent of Eden didn't look as calm and confident as he had in Eden.
It was a better look for him. Michael had long wanted to wipe the smug look off his face.
"The Archangel Michael. That's… unlikely." The Serpent breathed.
Michael contemplated him.
There was something familiar about him.
Not in his dark sunglasses or short cropped hair or black blazer, but something in the way he stood.
"Cooperation with our old enemies!" Dragon's pointed-tooth grin grew.
"Well wank-wings? You've brought the stuff?" Hastur asked expectantly.
Michael looked away. The demon Crowley did too.
She brandished her pitcher. "I did. I'll be back to collect it."
She held it out for Hastur to take. He stepped backwards.
"Eh, no, I think perhaps you ought to do the honors. I've seen what that stuff can do," he said.
Michael supposed that was fair. She stepped over to the bathtub, held the pitcher at arm's length, and poured.
She could see the demon's eyebrows raise above his glasses as he stared at the tub in horror.
"That's Holy Water," he realized.
"The holiest, yes," Michael confirmed.
There was something very familiar about the sickened look on the Serpent of Eden's face, the way he grew pale and looked weak, face slack.
His red hair seemed to stand out more the paler he got. He looked like he may vomit, although demons and angels didn't do that.
She had known someone, once, with red hair.
Beelzebub sighed. "It's not that we don't trust you, Michael, but obviously we don't trust you. Hastur, test it," they ordered.
Michael didn't care to watch a demon be destroyed either, much less two.
She couldn't stop herself contemplating the treacherous demon on more time.
He really did seem familiar.
He stared back at her in abject horror.
Michael shook her head and stepped back down the hallway.
Made it back to the elevator, and closed the door.
Where had she seen that look before?
Staring down from Heaven as Samael fell.
Michael dropped her pitcher. It shattered into nothing but sparkles of glass at her feet.
That was impossible, wasn't it? That face wasn't in Hell. It was one of Lucifer's tricks.
Raphael was making the stars. Not about to be forced into Holy Water.
The elevator was accelerating fast towards the surface. Michael would have to return soon, but Beelzebub had insisted she return to the surface between the delivery and the pick-up.
Michael took a deep breath.
Lucifer, or Samael or Satan or whatever he called himself these days, wouldn't let his younger brother be destroyed. If one thing was certain it was that neither he nor Michael had been able to not adore their younger brother. Raphael was just a likeable sort.
But perhaps he didn't know. Didn't know what Beelzebub had planned for the demon Crowley. It wasn't impossible.
But surely God would have said something. At least to Michael and Gabriel, the last of the Archangels to have met Raphael, if he had been one of the fallen. Raphael was their brother, after all.
But God's plans were ineffable. Maybe she wouldn't say.
Michael tried to draw to memory what Raphael had looked like when she had last seen him, golden eyes full of tears, the same sick look on his face as the demon had worn, long, fiery red curls all in a mess as he sobbed into Gabriel's shoulder-
Michael slammed her finger into the down arrow on the elevator.
There could be no doubt about it.
Michael had just brought about the tools to her own brother's demise. To her beloved younger brother's absolute destruction.
She pressed her finger into the button again and again and again, sent up every prayer she could think of, tried for a miracle. The elevator slowed to a halt and started the track back down but it wasn't nearly fast enough and she wasn't going to make it in time she knew already that she was far, far too late, all it would have taken was a single drop of Holy Water and Michael would be too late.
But still she prayed for a miracle prayed for a chance to save her brother.
The door pinged open and Michael rushed down the hall.
It was only when she heard sizzling that she slowed to a halt, tears pricking her eyes for the first time in thousands of years.
She had not cried for Samael.
But how could she not cry for her once soft and curious little brother, whom she had vowed to protect. First from anything, and then from Lucifer, after his fall.
A vow of which she had failed. She had brought about her beloved brother's demise. Destruction. Annihilation.
The tears slipped down her cheeks.
She wiped them away, fought to compose herself. She would cry later. Find Gabriel, tell him the truth and mourn with him.
For now, she had a job to do.
She miracled herself a new pitcher, just remembering that her's had shattered on the elevator floor.
"Nothing to see, nothing to see here!"
Beelzebub shouting at the crowd of observers jolted Michael to action. She walked down the hall and back into the makeshift courthouse.
"I came to bring back the uh-"
Something shifted in the tub. Splashed water up the side. Michael turned to see what it was.
It was the demon Crowley, no, the Archangel Raphael, lounging in the bathtub, still fully intact. "Oh Lord," Michael breathed, although deep inside she had to admit that all she wanted to do was run up and hug the demon, or perhaps not demon, that was soaking in Holy Water and beg for his forgiveness.
"Michael! Dude, do us a quick miracle, I need a bath towel," Raphael held out a hand.
His eyes were no longer the soft gold. They were a harsh yellow, serpentine, with slits for pupils. Unnerving, unnatural and unfriendly.
Michael snapped her fingers and handed him the towel. She was on autopilot, unable to even try to process what was happening. A part of her still wanted to deny that the serpent in the garden could have ever been her sweet brother Raphael and she wanted to spread her wings and search the cosmos until she found him painting stars like she had been told he was doing but she knew the search would lead her here.
Now that she knew, there was no mistaking. He was more gaunt, had lost his cherubin glow, his eyes were wrong and he had cut his hair but it couldn't not be him.
"I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future," he said.
He even sounded almost the same. His voice was rougher, but still nearly the same.
Raphael looked over the demons, who one by one all nodded.
Then at Michael. Fixed her in his yellow but yet familiar gaze and made her voice die in her chest.
She nodded as well, though she had every intention of tracking him down the moment she could.
"Right."
Raphael scrunched up his nose and gave a mocking smile, a smile that did not belong on her brother's face, and climbed out of the tub.
Long after both she and Raphael had left Hell, Michael found herself wondering why Mother had lied.