Anthony J. Crowley's Story

Is this the real life... is this just fantasy...

Anthony J. Crowley was currently doing 112 towards Soho, and cursing under his breath the entire way there. The familiar tones of Queen were doing nothing to clam his nerves which were, to say the very least, frayed.* In an admittedly foolish attempt to drown out the voices in his head and the police sirens chasing behind him, Crowley turned up the volume of his stereo and immediately regretted it.

Caught in a landslide, no escape from realiiiiwwWE'RE COUNTING ON YOU CROWLEY.[i]

"Ohshitohshitoh[i]shit!" Crowley's hands jerked to the left, nearly swerving off the road. Freddie Me "Ahhaha, yes. Erm. Thank you, my lord."

THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, CROWLEY. FINISH THE JOB AND WE MAY RECONSIDER YOUR FAILURE REGARDING THE BUISNESS WITH THE ANTICHRIST.

"That's... very generous of you, My Lord."

DON'T PUSH YOUR LUCK. AND CROWLEY?

"...yes, My Lord?"

IF WE FIND OUT YOU'VE BEEN CONSPIRING WITH THE ANGEL, ALL BETS ARE OFF. Any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter to meeee...

"Yeah, if you find out, you slimy bastard." Crowley plunged the gas pedal into the floor of the car and moved faster to Soho.




Aziraphale's bookshop was a small hole in the wall, jammed between a flower shop and a sort of boutique that sold poorly sewn tie die and hand made in the front and incense in the back. Crowley parked across the street and dashed across, not bothering to check for traffic. The sign read CLOSED, but the demon never bothered with things like that. He entered in a flurry. "Aziraphale? Hey, Angel, you home!?"

---

*To say more than the very least, the closest analogy one might associate with the state of Crowley's nerves might be the tattered drapes that hang far too close the ground in the home of a family who did not take into account said drapes frailty when bringing home the new, not-quite-yet-declawed kitten.

Aziraphale sat in an armchair in his dimly lit bookshop. He was quite comfortable considering how cramped it was, with piles of unsorted books taking up every available inch of his store. He hummed a little tune, and sipped his coffee as he read through his newest addition to his collection. It was a very worn book that dated all the way back to roman times. He enjoyed these old books because they not only allowed him to delve into the mind of man, but since he had been present during that time period he was able to marvel at the similarities and differences between modern man and the generations of man that had come before them.

They haven't really changed all that much*, he thought to himself with a smile as he took another sip of his bitter coffee. Turning the page, he began to feel that strange sensation that always foretold of a message from above. Oh I hope it's not another scolding about that antichrist. I do wish they would get over it; everything sorted itself out in the end, anyways. He kept on reading, waiting for his higher ups to begin the so called 'meeting'.

Expecting the message to take the form of sound, Aziraphale jumped at every little noise. After a few false alarms, he returned to his reading.

"Status dincuntur sincut homines.." The words on the page began to stretch out of shape, and take a new form. AZIRAPHALE, WE HAVE SOME NEW ORDERS FOR YOU. MAKE SURE NOT TO MUCK THINGS UP LIKE YOU DID LAST TIME! IT SEEMS THE SEVEN SINS HAVE ESCAPED. FIND THEM AND RETURN THEM. IT COULDN'T BE ANY SIMPLER. OH, AND UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE DO YOU ENLIST THE HELP OF THE BUMBLING DEMON. DO SO, AND YOU WILL BECOME HIS ROOMMATE IN HELL.. The words to their normal shape, but Aziraphale had lost his desire to continue reading. He set the book aside on some random pile. He stood up, and carefully made his way to the front of his store. Succeeding in knocking over two piles of books as he did so.

I give him ten seconds. Just as he thought this, Aziraphale heard the wail of police sirens from far off. Yep, that's him. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. The sirens were moving closer, and he could just about make out the squeal of the tires. Five. Four. The car swerved into view, the engine roared as the gas pedal was slammed down, and yet Aziraphale could still make out the sound of music that was being blasted within the car. Three. Two. The car was parked, and Aziraphale could hear Crowley yelling as the demon approached his store. On- This simple, short word was interrupted in Aziraphale's mind, as Crowley crashed into him upon charging into the store.

"What is the meaning of all this rushing about? Is it about those sins?", he exclaimed as he pushed Crowley away from him.

*Aziraphale is referring to the nature of humans to constantly try to figure out why things are the way they are. He finds it humorous that even after thousands of years of contemplating, none of the humans have really come close to figuring out the truth. In his mind, people are like hungry flies that continuously circle a plate of food, but are never able to gather the nerve to land upon it.

Crowley pushed through the door of the bookshop only to crash directly into the Angel in the process. Far before he'd quite sorted himself back out, Aziraphale was shouting about mucking around and seven sins. Crowley shook his head and blinked*.

"Seven sins... you hear then too?" Crowley sighed and paced around the main area of the bookshop. "Oh bless it. If your people are concerned about then it's got to be something big. Bigger than I thought. Shit, Angel, this is bad news. I mean... I mean do you know who the seven sins are? I mean of course you do, but have you ever met them? I mean, they are not pleasant company!"

Already tired from his pacing and fretting, Crowley collapsed onto the ledge of the windowsill and ran a hand through his dark locks. He took a deep breath or two, hoping the Angel wouldn't say anything, as Crowley was not yet finished worrying. "I mean... They didn't tell me hardly anything. Just 'Get up there and do it, expecting me to know what I'm doing! And then they say I can't ask you for help, but really, when was the last time I accomplished anything productive without your help! Angel, I need help! He cried, as if he had suddenly realized this.** "I have no clue what to do, but... If I don't...." He trailed off. Crowley didn't want to think about what could possibly happen.

---

*A rare occurrence indeed.
**Dispite the amount of times he ad already said it.

Aziraphale watched patiently as Crowley wore himself out with all fretting he was doing. A thin smile spread over Aziraphale's face when Crowley said ," when was the last time I accomplished anything productive without your help!". Despite being a demon, Crowley had a soft side to him, it wasn't the most prominent part of his personality, but it was there. Aziraphale enjoyed this about his friend, in fact it was the main reason he had been able to bond with the demon.

Clearing his throat once Crowley had finished ranting, Aziraphale began to speak, "Now calm down. I am sure they aren't that bad. Besides we should look at this as an opportunity to prove ourselves competent." Aziraphale tried to move closer to his friend, but the clutter of his store prevented it. He gave up and turned to look out the door of his shop. He saw the cops that had been chasing Crowley had effectively given up their search, and were making their way back to where they had come from.

"I do wish you would be a bit less reckless with your driving. One day they might take that pretty car of yours to the impound lot and sell it for parts.", Aziraphale said this with a playful scolding tone as he turned back to his friend.

"Now, about these sins. You seem to know more about them than I. Where do you suggest we start?"

Crowley took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and nodding his head as he listened to his friend. "Right. Competent, yeah." The demon felt considerably more at ease, even though the angel had not said much more than "Calm down" to convince him of anything. Aziraphale had a strange way of doing that, which really pissed him off. This time around, however, he was grateful. Crowley stood, mumbling something in response to Aziraphale's quip about his driving habits in the way of "I'd be surprised if they ever managed to catch me." He glanced out the window, then through the door and finally at Aziraphale.

"The sins. They're... I mean, they're exactly what they sound like. They don't like to stay in hell, so they get out a lot... it's why you get those really strange outbreaks... you know, the ones that don't even make the main circuit of the news? And usually we can round 'em up after a day or so but... we've never had to deal with all seven simultaneously... A-and I've no idea how they get them back, because..." Crowley had to pause to take another deep breath and calm himself again before continuing.

"When they escape, they take form. In hell, they can't so... we have to find them, then find a way to dispel them. That should send them back, I guess."

Crowley glanced up just in time to see Aziraphale leave and for a fleeting moment he felt very alone. After a short while, he stood and followed out the door. Aziraphale was in a state similar to the one Crowley had been in moments ago, but unlike his friend the demon had no calming or reassuring words. Instead he just moved beside the angel, leaning next to him against the wall of the shop an waiting quietly. "Sorry, sometimes being cramped up in that little store gets to me."

Crowley could tell Aziraphale was lying, but didn't push it. He was a bit caught off guard when his friend began to speak with him again. "Alright, so we have to get these seven sins back to Hell.. The hardest part, I think, would be finding them.. Would I be correct to assume that they are attracted to their corresponding sin?"

"Y-yeah, that's right," He nodded. "And crime rates in the area will soar, I'd imagine."