Chapter Text
Consciousness came to Crowley slowly, his body twinging painfully as it regained sensory input in bits and pieces. The hard ground dug into his back, and his foot pulsed- but when Crowley opened his eyes, he was lying near Aziraphale's feet, and everything was silent. This was good- if Aziraphale was still standing and not screaming their plan must have been a success.
Then he realized how calm he felt, like being home, and realized he was back in his own body. The realization gave him strength to spring up.
Aziraphale and Magnus were mutely staring at the pentagram. Crowley looked- and kept looking. It wasn't empty. There was another angel there, white wings feathered around a slender body and dark eyes raking over their party.
"Ithuriel!" Aziraphale squeaked. Crowley had never heard such an annoying sound, and he ardently wished he never would.
Ithuriel straightened. This close, he could see through the angel, and realized the angel was not here, not really-only a pale projection, the barest part of his consciousness.
Crowley heard a low sound, and turned to see Magnus staring with wide eyes. "I thought you were...gone. I thought you did not walk this Earth anymore."
Ithuriel turned his expressionless face toward Magnus. "I have not walked the Earth for only a short time, child. The last time I did, you were present-and the next time I will, you will not."
What?
Magnus bowed his head- but Crowley believed he'd caught a glimpse of fear and uncertainty. He wished he could say something, reassure the warlock, that angels rarely spoke what the meant, or meant what they spoke. Words were weapons, and they were magic, and angels did not lie-but their words often meant other things.
Ithuriel turned to Crowley then, and Crowley felt a prickling in his chest- a bare, instantaneous memory of the expanse of Heaven, bright and fiery and ruthless.
"Crowley, formerly known as Astaroth." Ithuriel's voice was in his thoughts. "The snake of Eden. You have aided an angel today. And I suspect, not for the first time."
"I thought Sammael was the snake in the garden," Magnus whispered.
Crowley waved a hand. "I was working in his department then. Sammael doesn't have the time to go around tempting humans, but he still likes to take credit, you know, like demonic bosses do."
Magnus clearly did not know, actually, but he kept quiet. Crowley also kept his mouth shut, fearing he would say something he wasnt supposed to.
Ithuriel glanced at Aziraphale, finally. "The Principality Aziraphale, assigned to guard humans." Aziraphale, too, remained silent.
Ithuriel's wings straightened behind him, growing to a majestic height. Eyes blinked on the feathers.
"Ithuriel," Aziraphale began, and Crowley instantly recognized the tone. This was an Aziraphale fearful of Heaven, wary of his angelic siblings. "Ithuriel, what brings you here?"
There was a very awkward pause. Crowley decided to covertly keep a few books on Nonhuman Etiquette on Aziraphale's desk.
"There was a cry for help." Ithuriel spoke, finally. "I have been made to serve this world, and I will continue to do so." He pointed at a shape on the ground some distance away, and Crowley realized with horror that it was moving. "Your foe has regained its wits."
The shape stretched and stood, and Crowley looked at the true form of Stheno for the first time. It was an angular, ruthless face that nevertheless looked fairly stupid and currently very angry.
With a roar, he launched himself at Aziraphale- but Crowley was faster. He snapped his fingers and Stheno froze in midair, jaw working as he tried to overcome his capture.
"You absolute oaf," Magnus said patiently. "This is why you were killed by the Shadowhunters twice in twenty years." Stheno grunted in furious rage, but the warlock simply rolled his eyes and made a gesture that summoned a silvery white knife floating above his hand. He made a slashing motion toward the oncoming demon, Stheno gurgled as a deep cut appeared in his chest, and starred folding into himself. They stood and watched as the demon vanished, still punctuated by the fading voice of "Revenge! Betrayal!"
"Not knowing Latin, or rituals, or the reason summoning instructions are handwritten on charmed pages, or that people that you force to do your bidding under fear of death will absolutely turn on you," Magnus observed. "What a dumb baby. Honestly, I would like to shake the hand of whoever told him a printed book written by mundanes who had no idea what they were talking about would suffice to summon a Prince of Hell. Made our job tons easier." He gestured again and the knife disappeared. "I hope the Shadowhunters won't be too upset with me stealing one of their precious adamas weapons. Hopefully they'll understand it was for a good cause."
Ithuriel inclined his head. "Clever. Illusioning the book's words to completely change the ritual was clever, Magnus Bane."
Crowley raised his hand. "Er, sorry to interrupt, but how are you two acquainted? A very unlikely occurence, it seems to me."
Magnus smiled thinly. "I witnessed Ithuriel burn, twenty five years ago. He nearly killed the woman who'd summoned him into her body- but he was bound to protect her life, and even as he wrecked revenge on the man who'd bound him, the woman was saved."
Crowley held up a finger. "Wait. What do you mean, summoned him into her body? No mortal, no Nephilim, nor anyone of Downworld, not even a demon, has that power."
Magnus had pulled on his gloves and composed himself. "Well, the woman in question was none of that."
Ah. Crowley had heard of her, once. A shape-changing being of both Heaven and Hell. But he had not known the extent of her powers, to host a holy angel in a body of demon blood, and still survive. Commendable. He hoped she would not decide to take up arcane studies in the pursuit of Armageddon. She could very well be the cause, with such unique and potent powers. But thankfully, it seemed to not be the case, since he'd heard no news of trouble, only of her strange children. Nevertheless, he had more pertinent questions.
"So you-" he pointed at Ithuriel- "you are here why and how, exactly?"
Aziraphale's ears pinked. "My fault. We were trying to join your soul with your body, and our strength was not enough. I called out for help. I suppose the pentagram was active due to the Shadowhunter blood and simply waiting for an address. Ithuriel must have lent the strength necessary to reunite you with your body. While you were waking up he also made the mortal woman vanish. Presumably, she is home and has forgotten absolutely everything."
Ithuriel did not confirm or deny. Crowley still felt compelled to muttered a "Thank you, Ithuriel." The angel folded his wings, gazed at Aziraphale, and said,"The miracles tonight, must be attested for."
Aziraphale nodded. "Of course. I will think of something." He looked at Ithuriel with dignity. "I trust you will not convey today's events to Heaven."
Ithuriel said nothing for a long time, gazing sightlessly at their ragtag group. "As long as everything has been accounted for." A silent agreement seemed to pass between him and Aziraphale, and his projection slowly paled until he had disappeared entirely.
The three beings stared at the pentagram, which sank into the ground to leave unmarked grass. It was as if nothing had happened.
"You know, he was always my favourite brother," Crowley said at last.
Magnus, who had broken a sweat from the amount of magic he'd done, said, "It has been a pleasure getting to know you, but for the sake of the world I hope I never see either of you again." Crowley had no choice but to agree. "Now," Magnus continued, "Since I have saved both your lives and the future of the Earth, I will be needing a favour."
***
The night was getting late, and Crowley had absolutely no idea where Magnus Bane had requested to be dropped off.
He'd nodded along as if he knew when Magnus gave him directions, but secretly he was magicking directions under the steering wheel. Annoying. Someone should invent a way for drivers to go where they weren't familiar.
They sped through the London night, down old alleys and roads narrow enough that Crowley had to perform certain metaphysical acts to get them through. The clouds had receded and the night was now clear and cold.
They screeched to a halt on a wide road and escorted Bane to the tavern. The front was simply a thick glass window with a door set in the middle. Inside, the tavern was glittering with human(or not) activity. Chandeliers of cut glass reflected the exciting new human invention- electricity- and lit the room in muted light. People, all around, laughing or slinking away, playing, working. Humanity never slept, apparently.
Bane tipped his hat at them both and announced, "I do hope both of you will be more careful with your mortal bodies." The man's slit pupilled eyes gleamed with something Crowley could not decipher. "I trust that when I see you next it will be on account of a social call, or a happier occasion. In any case, it's been a pleasure, gentlemen, and I shall take my leave now." He sauntered to the tavern, and turned one last time at the door. A hand flashed toward them, a goodbye.
The angel and the demon looked at the warlock through the windows, sitting down at a faro table, stretching out his long legs.
"Young, that one," Aziraphale murmured. "The countenance is oddly human."
Crowley had to agree. There was something humane about this Downworlder. He caught himself wishing that humanity would remain intact.
As they watched, a young boy with eyes as golden and infernal as hellfire stood up, shaking hands with a green skinned man. There were black runes on his skin.
Aziraphale squinted. "Isn't that..."
"Yes," Crowley answered before Aziraphale could finish. "The Shadowhunter with demon blood. That shape'changing woman's eldest. An interesting case, certainly, but that's Belial's blood, so I feel pity for the child more than anything."
Aziraphale smiled slowly. "That's quite unfair of you, my dear Crowley. The boy is also Nephilim. Angel blood, as you know, is dominant."
Crowley waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, I do not care. Although-" He turned to Aziraphale. "I'd rather not mention our adventure tonight to the bosses. You know. Poor duty from the man who was responsible for the Crimean War and all that."
He turned around and started sauntering to his motorcar, whistling. Aziraphale's voice, indignant, floated behind him. "That was my paperwork, if you might remember. You were asleep. Not that I'm terribly proud of it."
Crowley threw a smirk over his shoulder. He heard Aziraphale sigh and add, "I, uh, don't quite remember this night, do you? Indeed we were both quite fast asleep as far as I know."
Crowley's easy smirk slipped and he turned, smiling at Aziraphale- a genuine smile this time. Aziraphale blushed. It was so funny when Aziraphale blushed.
"Lift home?" Crowley offered. There was a sudden bang and they both swiveled to see the Shadowhunter boy holding a gun in his hand and laughing.
"I'll take that offer," Aziraphale said hastily. Crowley grinned.
They fell into step beside each other, the angel and the demon, and just a few paces away Magnus Bane was about to encounter James Herondale. But Aziraphale and Crowley both remained blissfully unaware of the entirety of Downworld, entirely wrapped up in putting out each other's fires.
Overhead the moon gleamed white as bone. For now, London could sleep.