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“Angel?”
“Yes dear?”
“I think we have a guest at the door.”
He looked over. Sure enough, a figure was standing at the doorway. After frowning at the lock, he let himself in.
Aziraphale thought he’d locked it. That was weird.
“Can I help you?” He asked politely. There was an… otherworldly feel around him. But maybe it was just Crowley.
“Yes, actually. I have a message for… Crawly?”
The man grabbed at thin air and a bag appeared. Crowley started. “What’s someone doing calling me? I retired from most of my job stuff after the whole showdown last apocalypse.”
“You did?”
This was the first he was hearing about it. Crowley shrugged. “I wanted more time to relax and cause trouble.” Of course he did.
The Messenger finally dug out a scroll of paper. “Here you go.”
“Thanks?”
The man looked at his list. “Do you by any chance know anyone by the name of…. Aziraphale? I think it made a mistake on the address.”
“That’s me.”
“Oh. Alright then.” He was handed a slim, neat looking letter with a small seal on the back.
“Thank you. Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you, but I have some things to deliver today.”
“Okay then. Maybe another time.”
The man was silent and stepped out.
They both looked at their respective messages.
“On three?”
A chuckle. “Sure.”
“One-”
“Two-”
“
Three!
”
They cracked open the seals and looked at the contents.
“Aziraphale, we regret to inform you-”
“Wait, mine says-”
There was a strangled yelp from both parties as they were flung apart, backs hitting both walls of the shop.
“Of all the things-!”
“What the hell?!”
Aziraphale sighed, trying to calm down enough to use logic. “May I see your letter, my dear?”
Crowley folded the piece of parchment into a paper aeroplane and tossed it over at the angel, who managed to grab it.
“Good shot.”
“Why thank you.”
He unfolded the parchment and skimmed it, eyes darkening dangerously as he read.
He got to the last line and they exploded into light, making Crowley grateful that he was wearing his sunglasses.
“What’s wrong Zira?”
“They-! Of all the things-! We bloody saved the world and they’re not thankful?!”
“Woah there angel.”
“They’re forcing us apart, Crowley! We can’t be on the same continent in three- oh. Three minutes.”
What?!
“They can’t do that!”
“Listen! ‘Due to your opposing natures, we have decided-’ Oh buzz off!”
“
Angel.
”
“What are you expecting me to say? That they can just do this?”
“It’s not like I like it Zira, but it’s
Heaven.
”
Aziraphale scowled darkly. Then his eyes twinkled.
He blinked at him. “Zira?”
“I believe I have an idea.”
He stood and walked over.
“What’s your idea?”
“I have to Fall.”
Crowley was shell-shocked. “What?” Then his brain caught up. “What?! You can’t be ssssserious!”
“You’re hissing, my dear.”
“I don’t bloody care! You’re choosing to Fall! For me?!”
“Yes.”
“I- no. I can’t. Zira-”
“My dear-”
“No Zira! I can’t let you do that!”
“Crowley. The sheer thought of doing it has tipped me over already.”
“Zira! You’re not listening to me! Falling is… It’ssss terrible!”
“Do you regret it?”
“It’sss what had to happen! But-” As he worked himself up, his speech dissolved into hissing, of which Aziraphale was only able to pick up a few of the words.
Pain- fire- I can’t- angel-
“Crowley. It’ll be fine.”
“
sss
sss- It won’t! It’ssss… like every molecule of yourssself issssset on fire! Your bonesss hurt like you fell from the heavensss-”
“Crowley. Please don’t work yourself up, my dear.”
“And that’ssss on top of the actual fall itsssself!”
“I won’t be falling Crowley. I’ll be right here.”
“You can’t-”
My dear-”
“It’ssss not your nature Zira! You’re insssufferably good!” Aziraphale just gave a small, sad smile.
“I don’t know if you can stop me, dear.”
There was a
pop
, and everything changed.
Crowley appeared in the middle of an alley. It was… dry.
“ZIRA?!”
No answer. He hadn’t expected one. He walked out of the alley.
Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, a motorbike sat on the edge of the road ten feet from him, a light dusting of sand covering the surface.
He blinked at it. It was black, and certainly his style. It wasn’t locked to the curb anywhere, and there wasn’t anyone in sight.
So he shrugged and hopped on, and, with a flick of his fingers, started the engine before speeding away towards what looked to be the centre of town.
Where was he?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
America. He was in fucking America. The licence plate on the bike said Nevada. He was an idiot. And screwed.
Of course! Of course had to be in America! The home of the strictest demons in the world! Well, other than Australia. Those guys were just pure evil.
The odds of him being able to get a flight home were next to zero though. The TSA were really good at their other job- as the Taskforce of Shitty Angels. Well, they were actually called something else*, but this one fit the bill.
The odds of him getting one that wasn’t a demon-hunter in disguise were next to nil.
[*Taskforce of Satan Apprehenders. They worked for Heaven, and were usually either close friends of angels, or just generally really good people. Crowley hated them. He just wanted to go to Vegas
once
for some fun and this is what happened the day after. He’d had to mail himself home. He was not doing that again.]
Now how was he supposed to get home?
He was in… a desert. He could tell that. It was a bit weird of a spot to be teleported to, but he could practically feel the sand he breathed in rattle through his lungs. He was in a desert.
He had no idea what the town he was in was called, or what part of Nevada he was in, if the licence plate was accurate at all, but he wanted to get out.
It was really hard to hold a demon if they really wanted to get out of somewhere.
But he technically had just been evicted, not kidnapped or any matter of other things. And he didn’t really have experience with that sort of thing.
Well, until today.
Wait- did that mean that he couldn’t be summoned if someone tried to summon him in Europe? What if Aziraphale tried to summon him? Or if he tried to summon Aziraphale? It was really hard to summon an angel, but it could be done.
Now, should he focus on a way to get home, or a way to contact Aziraphale? He didn’t want him to do anything rash until he found a way back-
Wait. Could he call the bookstore? Did he even have a phone in there? He had been talking about it- but even if there was he didn’t know the number.
In the meantime, he had to find out a few things.
Was he literally physically banned from going home, or had they just teleported him across the world for nothing but the sheer inconvenience? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to test that. It could be either.
Should he make a base here until he could find a way to contact home?
He wished he had Aziraphale… he wasn’t exactly the best at research. Or planning. That was not one of his skills*.
So what should he do?
[*His skills were getting drunk, making people believe that he knew what he was doing, and ruining days, among some others. He’d only managed to stop the universe from burning once, and had no plans to do it again. It was purely luck that managed to do it, not anything on his part other than the Bentley.]
He rode into town. There seemed to be a pizza place- Big Rico’s Pizza?- with a sign over the door that said:
Nobody does a slice like Big Rico’s.
Nobody.
It was somewhere between concerning and a kind of normalcy he had missed since before the almost-apocalypse.
Weird.
He went inside and ordered a slice of cheese and some tea.
He was used to stares for his fashion choices. Or his personality. But these were for a completely different reason. He was new in town.
This place seemed to be a very… close-knit community.
Then someone switched on the radio and his day just got weirder.
[Flashing lights appear overhead. The nearest windows start to vibrate with a tinny droning tone, the glass of water on the coffee table rippling and shifting, before falling and shattering into a million tiny cristalline pieces on the polished wood floor. There is a crashing noise outside. Something is in your backyard. Before you can move, a shadow appears in the window. The shape is unnatural, the air hums with energy- and you wonder. Are you alone in the universe? Is there a higher being out there? Is there, indeed, anyone at all? Welcome, to Nightvale.]
He almost burst out laughing at that intro. Higher being indeed.
[Hello listeners! Today I have some very exciting news! We have a newcomer to Nightvale!]
He almost spit out his tea. How did they-
[His name is… Crowley. Just Crowley. Eyewitness accounts say that he came to the centre of town on a motorcycle, but we cannot tell you how he got to the town lines. The only correlation we could suggest is that it is something to do with that strange glow we saw from that part of town about an hour ago. I don’t know about you, listeners, but I love a good mystery!]
How had he-
[Well I hope that he feels welcomed and accepted, and that he finds what he is looking for here in our lovely little desert community. And if you, Crowley, are listening in, which I have no doubt you are, I suggest coming over to the radio station! If you are looking for a job, we always are hiring interns, or if you have any questions, feel free to talk to me, Cecil Palmer! Now, onto traffic-]
He blinked at the opposing wall. How had they known who he was? His name, his whereabouts- how had they known? He’d only been here for half an hour at the most.
He took another drink of the glass in his hand and sighed.
He missed the Ritz. And Aziraphale.
And good, British tea. This was just flavoured cat piss.
He finished the slice of pizza, threw away the wrappings, and went out the door.
Time to find a way out of this hellhole.
He rode around town for a bit. ‘Just seeing the sights’ he told himself.
There was a house for sale by the car lot.
Something he took note of. Just in case.
The weird thing was, there was no post office. There wasn’t even a space for a post office. No post boxes either. Maybe this town was big on technology?
But he, and Aziraphale, weren’t. Which was an issue.
And unless he somehow managed to train a pigeon to carry a letter to Aziraphale, he didn’t really have a way to send him a message without some kind of influence.
Hmm…
Was there a way to send a message via a ritual?
He wasn’t sure. Again, that was Aziraphale’s realm of influence.
Ugh.
Things were too complicated.
Part of that was definitely his side’s fault.
When he got back, he’d have to give Aziraphale at least like… five points for that. Because it was a very big inconvenience.
He drove through a suburban area. This thing was fast, sure, but it wasn’t his Bentley. He had to say that it was reaching 140 kph* reasonably well.
[*about 86 mph for us Americans.]
He had slowed down to turn a corner when a parade of…
Holy shit.
Were those angels?!
I mean, they looked like angels. Wings. General glowing. One of them was the classic spinning rings covered in eyes and wreathed in flames.
And then there was an old woman just… walking beside them, talking.
Every angel turned to stare at him in unison. The name
Erika
rose forth to his mind from… somewhere.
TOUCH HER AND YOU WILL REGRET IT, TEMPTER.
He hadn’t been planning on it.
Now he really wasn’t planning on it.
He just nodded. They all turned away and moved up the street.
He looked back at the road and sped off, unsettled.
This was a weird town.
But he was starting to like it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He ended up getting the house. The sellers- they seemed to be scientists- were shocked when he stepped up the stairs and into the house without a problem.
One of them even fainted.
Apparently it was a house that should exist, would make sense to exist, but didn’t exist.
And he’d just stepped up and entered it.
Welp.
It was, however, a rather nice house.
He stepped inside, miracled a basement with a bit of effort, and looked at the space.
Concrete.
A grin spread across his face. Perfect.
Now to see if the library here had any arcane texts. A long shot, but it might be worthwhile.
He closed the door and set off towards his bike.
He was going to find a way to contact his friend come hell or high water.
----------
Okay, what the hell was this place? Sure, it said library, but Crowley was 99% sure it was a gateway to a very literary section of Down Under.
He wished Aziraphale was here with his sword. A sword would be great right now.
But he managed to stumble into the section he needed to while dodging the acid, so there was that.
Now let’s see….
----------
He crashed out of the library doors, his prizes wrapped in his jacket.
The screeching of the librarians behind him was delightful to hear as he sped into the streets.
He rode back to the house, trying to think of what he could do with them.
---------
He drew the last line of chalk and looked at his creation.
It seemed to be accurate. Actually…
It looked pretty damn good.
He flicked away the piece of chalk and looked at the book. Yep, that looked good.
“What are you doing?”
He jumped sideways about three feet at the sudden voice, sunglasses nearly falling off his head. He jammed them back hurriedly as he placed the voice. “Radio guy? Cecil? How did you get-”
He swore he had locked it-
“I got curious. So what is it that our newcomer is summoning today? I must say, it would be hard to top the Glow Cloud. ALL HAIL. I’m impressed at how well you dodged the librarians.”
“How did you get in here?!”
“I have my ways. So what are you doing?”
“I’m contacting a … friend. I’m contacting a friend. Maybe even manage to transport myself there, If I’m lucky. We got seperated.”
“Another demon then?” What? Um-
“An angel, actually.”
“Oh. Well, remind me when we’re done that I have to go to the city council to get reeducated.”
“What? Why?”
“Angels aren’t actually technically supposed to exist. So… want some help?”
He blinked, then noticed the faintly glowing tattoos up the man’s arms. The weird feeling he got when he looked at his face. A… merging point for something he couldn’t quite see. A Sight of some kind, possibly. He’d seen something similar before in Vegas. Americans.
But the help wouldn’t hurt.
“Ehh, why not?”
-----------
They both looked at the Circle, now glowing white. They’d actually done what they’d needed to do. This might actually work.
He was, dare he say, excited.
Cecil was flipping through the book.
“This thing is amazing. I should really try to get to the library more often.” That sounded like a bad idea.
He looked back at the Circle and cracked his neck.
“Let’s try this thing out, yeah?”
-----------
Cecil read the words while he stood in the Circle.
“Wish me luck.”
“It was nice to have you in Nightvale, Crowley.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome.”
A smirk, then Cecil read the last line.
His vision flared in a flash of white light-
And he saw Aziraphale’s shop.
He was home.
“Zira?” He called out, cautiously stepping across the circle that was burned into the carpet.
Nothing seemed to happen.
There was a crash of crockery and he turned to see his angel standing in the doorway to the back, a mug shattered at his feet.
“Crowley?”
He flashed him a blinding grin. “Hey Angel.”
“You- how?”
He winced. “Might have burned a Circle into your carpet. Sorry Angel.”
“Ignore the carpet, dear- it’s been three days. I was starting to worry we wouldn’t be able to find each other. I was just about to go back to my books when- wait, how did you get back?”
Wait, three days? Time must work differently in Nightvale. He wouldn’t be surprised.
“Used a Circle.”
“Which one?” He looked down at the carpet, waving away the broken cup and the mess of tea on the floor. “This? That shouldn’t have worked.”
Wait, what? “What do you mean?”
“This would be too weak- unless it was boosted I don’t-”
Crowley blinked. Then smacked himself on the forehead.
“Cecil, you clever human. Well, maybe human. Not quite sure on that one, to be honest.”
“Who’s Cecil? The name seems familiar-”
“Cecil… Palmer I think. I’m relatively sure he’s human-”
“Cecil Palmer? No, I don’t recognize that one. Strange. I knew a lovely Cecil in the 1800s who had the most marvelous tea collection-”
Crowley gave a small, almost dopey grin at the angel. “I missed you.”
Aziraphale gave a smile in return. “I did as well, Crowley. Would you like some tea?”
He sat in a chair. “Please. Americans have no taste in tea.”
“You poor thing. Well I’ve got just the drink. Sit tight, I’ll be back soon.”
He gave a sigh of relief and relaxed on the counter.
It was good to be home.