Eustass Kidd for Pirate King

they'd been in each others circles for six thousand years, spent day, even a week or two in each other company every few centuries. And then there was Warlock.

it was the longest overlap their arrangement ever had, even in crawly mostly stuck to the house and Aziraphale to the gardens.

but it was long enough for their true natures to bleed over in ways they hadn't before.

Crowley was a menace at every turn, being cooped up like he was turning his boredom into outright harassment of the security details, and (in much more subtle ways) the Dowlings' themselves.

Aziraphale still enjoyed his food and books, but some of his more holy tendencies started to peak though, much more than he'd shown to Crowley in the past, and that's when the demon mentally cemented that this had to work, for the angels sake.

Aziraphale did his duty-bound tasks as Crowley expected, but then he did downright heavenly things. Aziraphale... prayed, for lake of a better term. it wasn't checking in with Gabriel, and he didn't act like he expected a response. but he clasped his hands, bowed his head, and knelt at his bed, much like the humans did nowadays. he confessed all the naughty things he did that heaven didn't approve of - he asked to be forgiven for his material possessions, his books. Greed. He as for forgiveness for the dinner he'd shared with some of the staff that night. Gluttony.

He asked for forgiveness for spending the evening past indulging in a book of poetry and a glass of wine. Sloth. For forgiveness in feeling unheard in his last meeting with Gabriel, the frustration in that his position didn't afford him enough of a voice. wrath. envy. he asked for forgiveness in wanted to spend more or the day with Crowley. Lust.

He asked for forgiveness for not letting the praise of his hard work for to the Almighty or to Gabriel. Pride.

No. no. this wouldn't stand. Crowley seethed in the shadows. heaven had his angel all twisted up, thinking these things as great deadly terrible sins.

that troublesome angel had started to destroy his demons.

The first few no doubt deserved it; they've been told the angel was to be left alone, but once Crowley had been forced back to the heels of his master, they couldn't help rub the angels face in it.

it was the last thing they did.

for a short time afterwards, demons up there just doing there jobs would find themselves decorperated at the hands of the angel, sent back to hell with one short simple message - let Crowley go.

the problem was, they all knew that it couldn't happen. not like that.

finally a newly dicorperated demon cowed before his a dark lord. the message had been changed slightly. Let Crowley go, or I will come get him.

"you know i can't do that..." Lucifer murmured, though no one was really certain who he was talking to. the demon was dismmised, leaving Lucifer with a few of his chosen council. the few that had been to busy to witness Crowley's execution suggested to let him come, one angel vs all of hell, on hell's own home turf? easy people to get rid of

"He's immune to hellfire," (notbeez) cautioned, " we could overtake him eventually, but our losses...."

"Too many, especially if he brings holy water. Heavens never tried to flood us on the sole grounds that they don't want us to burn them to the ground. But, he knows the fire wont work on him, and he has no alliance with heaven. There isn't a single thing keeping him from drowning us all, and waltzing out with Crowley after we're gone."

"can he powerful enough for that kind of blessing?" Lucifer asked, claws pressing against Crowley's temple. the demon refused to make a sound.

"He's killing our demons in some way. I wouldn't bet he couldn't"

They debated on the best course of action for some time after that, until Crowley slumped closing his eyes against tears that threatened, and finally voiced what they all needed to hear.

"you have to let me go." Lucifer growled at his daring to speak up at all, and yanked his head back with a fist full of hair. Crowley forced himself to stay calm, collected, resolved. "Either let me walk out of here, or destroy me outright. But.. if you keep me here, He's going to obliterate everyone. He's.. he's not going to stop. there's no reason left for him to do so."

Rural Mail Carrier Ezran Fell pulled up to the road block in his battered - but reliable - hatchback, trying to look casual as he draped his coat over the various tied off plastic bag on the passenger seat instead of the mail trays that would normal be stacked there.

The firefighter casually sauntered up to him as the officers looked on warily. With his top lights and magnetic decals and flimsy id badge, Fell was the boss at the moment, and the power imbalance made everyone unconformable.

Except maybe the firefighter, arms crossed on the car frame , leaning in though Fell's open window. Crowley pulled his shades down just a tad, so Fell could see him quite pointedly look at the suspicious like grocery bags he'd not quite hidden fully. and the jug of milk sitting on the floor.

"Morning Fell - how goes deliveries today?"

Honestly, Fell was just happy that Crowley was here today, instead so some of the other volunteers. not that he had any issues with the firefighters, but with the officers actually. and Crowley was about the only one that wouldn't just stand by ideally and watch him argue and be harassed by the law enforcement.

"Hopefully a quite morning, my dear man? Just planning on a quick pop in and out, if the Lord is willing..."

No one stops the mail. not even a road block.

But the fire department could strongly urge him not to enter for his own safety.

"Nothing moved overnight, but we're watching the west end next to route 4 closely. It's just a strong wind away from jumping, so if you can avoid it...."

The two had an arrangement. Only the mail or emergency services was allowed in, but they could not force anyone to leave. meaning a few people had hunkered down to wait it out. Crowley looked the other way if Fell brought in more than just mail, and Fell helped him keep tabs on who was still up there. As it was, Fell carefully slipped him an updated list. "I had two new mail holds, I'll confirm that the homes are empty today. I have one house for sure still on 4 still. older couple and a service dog. they moved the horses out before the block went up. Otherwise - there' the list for the other streets."

Neither was strictly legal, but it provided Crowley's team with a list of what houses to save first if it came to that. or at least what houses to slow the flames down long enough to convince the holdouts to leave. "Most of them have nothing else," Fell had explained to him once, "No family, no money, no ties to anywhere but here. And... many of them are older Crowley. they don't believe they have the strength of will to start over again. they plan to go down with the ship if it comes to that."

"Burning alive is not a good way to go, Fell."

"I know dear. but... fear makes people choose quickly, and then they just .... changing that choice is hard."

Crowley can't stop the mail. He can't stop fell from driving into Hell on earth - the smoke clouds thick int he air, the ash raining down as he puts his mask back on as Fell rolls up his window. Officer Messenger has the barricade pulled aside to let him past, and soon he's swallowed up by the smoke.

He'll pull the mail out of the boxes that have called in a hold, bring it back to the post office. He'll drive up a few of the longer driveways to check that the houses tucked away in the woods are still standing and mark them on the list he prints everyday. Mail and milk and bread and other essentials are dropped off at the doors of the few people left, and he does a welfare check on each one, refusing to leave until they've at least verbalized to him that everyone is still alive - although most will come out and talk for a few minutes before insisting her hurries on his way to not get trapped int he ever changing line of fire in the twisted back mountain roads.

A handful of hours later, he's back to the road block. By this time, they'd been a changing of the guard and it's new faces, most of them tired and unfriendly. They don't like that he goes in everyday (but Sunday), one more liability they have to keep track of. but. by law they cannot stop him.

And sometimes... sometimes he gets one of the holdouts to follow him down.

he was vaguely aware that someone was screaming, but it.. It was so far away.

Right now, the only thing he was aware of was the /heat/ enveloping his heart, and the snug look on Gabriel's face, warping a little at the edges, but smirking down at him none the less.

the air warped in front of him, rippling in heat waves from the ethereal flames pouring off the heavenly blade protruding from his chest.

stabbed in the back. how oddly appropriate.

Crowley is still screaming bloody murder off in the background, as Micheal pushes the blade deeper. it's her long sword - not meant for stabbing, but doing the job none the less. it also means there's more blade to come, and Aziraphale moves quickly. When he feels her bracing to drive it deeper, he grasped the lapel of Gabriel immaculate suit, and uses every bit of his angelic strength to pull the archangel into a gruesome hug.

Micheal can't stop in time, not positioned correctly to try and withdraw the blade, and Gabriel doesn't have a chance to make a noise as her blade is driven though his chest. Aziraphale holds him in place, wrapping arms around his torso, fighting both tears and a smile.

too late for either of them, Micheal frees her blade, the angel steel clattering to the ground as she drops it to try and wrangle Gabriel free of the death hug. the flames had burned the corporation's blood away, leaving only bright gold dust of their true forms to spill into the air. the force of Micheal's efforts into tearing them apart causing Aziraphale to stumble backwards as Gabriel collapses into her arms.

if e could hear, Aziraphale would hear the cursing and smiting being attempted behind him as Uriel and Sandelphon's attempt to control their hold on the demon, but Crowley wins in the end. he may not be fighter, but he's always been as slippery as a snake, and getting away from trouble has been his strong suit- even to his own detriment - since the beginning. he's as Aziraphale's side before the angel can crumple, holding him tight, shaking trembling hands ghosting over the mortal wound that tore his friend in two.

it burned like liquid fire, and Gabriel felt his corporation rebelling against him - protesting his lack of needing to breath with heart shuddering coughs, shaking apart his whole frame.

Across from him, Aziraphale at least had the decency to study his empty drinking vessel - pretend he wasn't bearing witness tot eh archangels' shame.

The Demon Crowley had no such reservations, throwing his own drink back, and refilling the trio of tiny glasses.

"Maybe this time, drink it, instead of breathing it. I knew its all the same hole at the start, but i promise they are meant to go different places."

Aziraphale used the guise of more patiently drinking his shot - still all in one go, but calmer than his century old drinking partner - to hide his aborted laugh.

Crowley help his own glass up, waiting for Gabriel to going them. not to be out maneuvered, Gabriel took his glass, clear liquid despite in the palm of his hand. He was certain that you where not meant to drink it like the demon preferred, but Aziraphale was clearly messing with him too. no way was this supposed to linger in the mouth. this attempt only went mildly better, still shuddering at the burning taste lingering on his tongue and the way this throat spazmed as it went down.

"It's an acquired taste," Crowley explained, "so until you get used to it, try not to.. taste it"

"Very helpful," Gabriel sneered; it was not helpful at all. but it did explain the odd tossing motion the demon had when he did drink, like he was attempting to avoid his tounge all together.

Aziraphale just shrugged, and took his time with each glass, happy for both drinks and a show.

"i don't think you understand how much you've hurt us, Aziraphale "

the battered angel could to little more than shrug, head spinning from the last blow Sandelphon had delivered. At this point he knew trying to correct his former bosses was a worthless endevour and energy was best saved for thinking a way out of the current ordeal.

if only he could he could get his head to stay on one thought long enough to think of a plan.

Crowley lay bound and gagged at his feet, but thankfully mostly forgotten. He glared venomously up at the archangels but remained quiet and calculating.

Gabriel clasped his hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, oblivious to the dark look on Crowley's face as watched his nightmares playout out in real time.

"we were family, Aziraphale , and..." Aziraphale whimpered as the grip turned painful, "you played us, for suckers, for thousands of years."

"i-i-i never..."

He choked off his excuse, truing to bury the scream that threatened when the bones where forced out of alignment, the muscles and tendons tearing where Gabriel's fingers dug in.

"You lied to us, and deceived us. Your family."

Crowley growled threateningly, coiling up at their feet, fury rising at Gabriel's mistreatment, and the uncertain pained look on his angels face.

Aziraphale knew Gabriel liked to twist things, Crowley knew that Aziraphale knew that Gabriel was masterful at lying while still telling the truth. But he also knew that Gabriel was a mastermind at getting into Aziraphale's head.

"You betrayed, *us* Aziraphale. your family. for what? Him? a Demon?"

"did… did Micheal know you could see?" "I always believed so," (prince) murmured sadly, looking at Heavens newest prisoner, form contorted in agony before being frozen for eternity. Unlike the pillars of the great hall, this one was a simpler affair, almost unnoticeable with the fake facade - or in this case, true pillar - mirroring it on the otherwise of the entryway to the archangels private areas. meditative areas, they claimed. honestly, the true nature of the area beyond was something for Prince and the other thrones to deal with; the only part Crowley cares about was the mutilated celestial that had been hidden away, yet on display as a sick trophy one the archangels knew about. they'd put his angel on display right under everyone's noses. but it seemed that they're pride has not been without a price, yet another one Aziraphale had been forced to pay. blank voids ripples in space to look at them, but no eyes stared back, all of them haven been blinded at some point. Aziraphale's form swirled in a vaguely humanoid shape, a tell of his millennia in such a body, but even then, the place where his face would have been was nothing more then an open angry wound, gaping accusingly back at him. Crowley caressed the barrier between him and the angel, biting his lips to hold back the string of ugly words that would do nothing to help at this time. he couldn't let it go - not yet. there was once thing, one thing he had to clear up with Prince before he could go on. He was a demon - he shouldn't care. But he did. "You could have hidden this from me. I've barely freed any of your lot. Why not hid him until I'd done more?" "Do not think me as selfless as that Demon Crowley. I let you free four of my fellow dissenters before i brought you here." "four. FOUR? oh, yeas, how cruel of you, to string me along for four angels out of thousands more to go" he snarled, bitter and angry, and not really sure who he was lashing out at the moment as sarcasms tainted his words. Did these angels even know what sarcasm was? "I believe we have enough now that we will not easily be swept away again. We will try avoiding a full on rebellion, but there are enough of us now to cause a shift in the statue quo that was been heaven for... to long. More would be wonderfully to have, but there is also a sad truth that i muss face. "You don't have the power to free many more. I think you have enough left for one, but that... may be all. At least i you want to retain enough power to still be able to escape when time begins it march once again. I could have let you go on, destroy yourself freeing the others. but when you i even get another demon back here to help me? "You see - it's purely a calculated move. no feelings involved, yours or mine." "You think i would come back, even if.. Aziraphale was free. that i'd come back and help you?" "The fact you helped us at all proves that you would be open to such an arrangement. So consider this a simply apart of that." "An arrangement..." "From what i have come to understand, you have held a very successful arrangement with another angel in the past, one that you both came out ...much better for have entered." "You overheard a lot int hat hall did you?" "Not a thing. but i saw much. And even angels say quite a bit without words." Prince nudged Crowley to the pillar, solemn. "Can you feel the other part of this, Crowley? The rest of the mystery?" The ripples opened, one on either side of his hand on the smooth clear prison. like Aziraphale knew he was there, and was greeting him in the only way he could. "Have you figured out why you couldn't find him - why he felt like he was everywhere to you?" "Because you where everywhere..." Crowley realized, his vision swimming as tears gathered against his will, ""You bastard, you the one who stopped time..." "More like he's holding it in a headlock." Prince conceded . "Even blinded, I can feel him stretching past the prison. I'm not sure even i can describe who when's done, but... i'm fairly certain that it will only hold until you free him. After that, there should be enough of my thrones left that we can cover the two of you returning to earth. There'll be enough chaos here foe a bit that the archangels won't have the ability to bother you for some time." "You hear that angel," Crowley smiled, ignoring the fresh wave of tears on his cheeks, "it's time to go home."

"Angel…" Crowley whispered, coiling tighter around the celestial being's very corporeal knees, and said being groaned back into the world of the waking.

Aziraphale already was not a fan of sleeping - considering it time wasted that could be better spent indulging - so he had limited experience in crossing over from dreamland to the waking world to begin with. and this particular visit to the sandman had been because his body had been battered and pained to the extent it had to shut down in the face of pain so it could focus on healing.

and the human body would heal, despite the miriaid of bruises and aching joints, and the twisted until it snapped (upper) bone on his left arm. The devil and his humans had set it back, trusting Aziraphale to be able to miracle back into a single solid state once he had properly regained his strength.

it was the injuries to his wings that was the truly worrying thing, the reason he was currently resting on his right side instead of comfortably on his back. Sandelphon had done his best to destroy both appendages, but Aziraphale's right wring had only been dislocated before Lucifer had made his appearance and the Archangels had called a hasty retreat.

Unfortunately, he'd had plenty of time to destroy the Principality's left wing before then.

Angel bodies did not have bones - not really. nor flesh or muscle, skin or scales. Even the Feathers where's really feathers, but all of them made up of else, a cosmic celestial swirl of grace and light - or malice and void in the case of the fallen. But in the human realm, things had to twist to become things humans could conceptualize, and the otherness that was the preternatural - the parts of them that couldn't be condensed down to fit snuggly in a human body - well, the humans saw lots of things, and in the last few centuries, wings are the form they typically settled on.

And when you'd been around humanity as long as some of them, part of yourself started to be less as incomprehensible ineffability, and more... big-ass swan wings.

Which Sandelphon had possibly permanently destroyed.

for humans looking at it, the wing looks mangled, each bone twisted and broken free of its joint with its sinew, muscles and tendons torn free and useless. large ragged patches existed where feathers had been torn away, bruised and swollen flesh now exposed underneath. for the demons looking at it right now, Aziraphale had had parts of his own existence ripped away, ragged tears in his core where his grace misted out from him to dissipate in the room. The side effect of such an aggreasious injury had made the air to toxic for Mazekeen to linger in the same area, Lucifer carefully filtering the air of the room outside and not back into the building 'less he poison himself. it made Crowley's skin itch and burn to be so close, but he could not leave his angel further abandoned and alone.

it aggravated his own injures from the fight - the longer he curled around Aziraphale, protectively. defensible.. more for his own sanity as for Aziraphale's safety, the more he risked his wounds becoming permanent.

it would be worth it; the hardest part would be to make sure Aziraphale never connected to two - and if he did, to never, veer, allow him to find out Crowley knew the risk in advance.

Nothing looked special about this particular throne at first, but once Crowley freed them, the angel remained looking at him, stoic and calm, even as Quelamia differed themselves before them. The other angels had exploded in power when released, like stretching out after being forced still for too long.

this one barely moved, the only sign it was free was the flicker of inter flame and the slow rotation of their wheels.

Crowley wasn't sure what he'd just freed, but he felt nervous for the first time.

"I believe i heard you are called Crowley," the throne said finally, and Crowley found himself nodding mutely.

"The archangels have spoken of you quite a lot in recent times. A real thorn in their side it seems. Along with a Principality."

"Aziraphale." he offered, "I'm came here to find him."

"I've never heard of a Principality by that name; where they created post rebellion?"

"I un.. nah, i think he fought in it, actually? We uh... we don't talk about it if we can help it."

"I see." the wheels turned lazily, and it regarded Quelamia, "have them look for anyone they don't know; Gabriel seemed the most aggravated by these two, so don't look here in the hall - try something more in the open. it may not look like a pillar at all. it wouldn't need to be so wide to contain a principality."

They looked to Crowley, "Do you know what you've started in motion, Demon Crowley?"

"Something that's going to piss off Gabriel and Micheal. Hopefully something that gets me my friend back. After that, i don't really care."

"You may have started a new rebellion."

"Demon, remember. I don't care. I'm selfish. I just want Aziraphale back."