Final chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who has read this! I've got a couple one shots coming up and then I'm going to start posting a new Supernatural AU that involves the boys ruling Hell ^_^

Right now, let's see if Aziraphale's idea works out.

Chapter Six

The next week was not easy. Crowley wasn't sure he'd had a worse week ever and considering he'd been on earth during the dark ages, that was saying something.

Everything hurt so much for the first couple days that he had mostly just tried to sleep it off. If he could sleep. Between the nightmares and just the pain he was experiencing, there wasn't much rest for him. Perhaps it was true what they said, "no rest for the wicked", except Crowley had never really described himself as necessarily wicked.

And then there was the angel. Aziraphale stayed with him almost constantly, especially after his deplorably failed escape attempt. He wasn't really sure whether the angel saw himself as his guard or his caretaker—probably a little of both. He just knew that Aziraphale was constantly fussing over him to the point where Crowley was getting quite agitated, and stir-crazy. It was even more frustrating that he couldn't voice his annoyance, and he couldn't exactly go very far from bed either because his body wouldn't cooperate. So he had to endure Aziraphale being an overly efficient mother hen, which almost made his situation worse.

But he was still grateful to the angel, his friend, who was always there when he woke from a nightmare, sitting by his bedside, unknowingly offering that soft, comforting glow Aziraphale's halo always put off, which worked to instantly calm Crowley and anchor him. Letting him know exactly where he was and, even more importantly, exactly where he wasn't. It didn't make up for the nightmares really. The countless hours where he relived everything Malebranche had done to him and worse things he thankfully hadn't; not to mention the ones where Aziraphale was there, sometimes on a rack as well, screaming horribly, sometimes standing by indifferently without a halo anymore. Crowley wasn't really sure which scenario was worse.

But when he woke up the angel was always there, usually reading beside his bed, sometimes if the nightmare was particularly bad, he woke to Aziraphale sitting on the bed beside him, shaking him awake, soothing him with kind touches and meaningless words that were still somehow comforting and helped anchor him to the real world again. Crowley didn't know what he had ever done to deserve a friend like this. It really didn't make any sense.

But his wounds healed. The cuts and bruises pretty much faded by the end of the first week to scabs that itched terribly. The holy water burns took longer, but his throat and mouth were healing, and he was eventually able to croak a little, though Aziraphale scolded him when he tried, saying it would only take longer to heal. It did hurt quite a lot still, but Crowley felt it was worth it for being able to speak, even if only a little.

Aziraphale had also told him his plan, when he thought he was recovered enough to hear it.

"It's stupid," Crowley rasped instantly, gulping down a swallow of milk and honey. He had finally convinced Aziraphale to let him have a change of scene so they were in the back room of his shop, Crowley sitting on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders that Aziraphale had insistently tucked around him.

"Is it really that bad?" Aziraphale asked. "What other option do we have, Crowley?"

"Go to another galaxy, maybe," Crowley suggested, not as upset about it as he should be. He had always loved the stars.

Aziraphale sighed in exasperation, obviously not thinking that was a good idea. "Now you're being silly. Look, dear, you've said many times, Hell is not smart. And Heaven, well, they have a miraculous ability for oversight. The fact that they haven't been to see me yet tells me they know nothing about this venture. Which is at least one point in our favor."

"But really, angel, a cheesy spy thriller double agent narrative?" His throat hurt now just from voicing that out loud and simply glowered at the angel to emphasize how that most definitely wasn't him, hoping Aziraphale didn't know why he had gotten those bullet hole decal stickers for his Bentley.

The angel gave him a look back, that told Crowley he knew enough about just how Crowley really felt about cheesy spy thrillers.

"Would it really be so bad if it works?"

"But an angel kidnapping a demon?"

"Why not? You were going to let slip information, I went to get you before that happened. I bring you back and sequester you away, and you finally get free and force me to sign a confession to get you back into Hell's good graces—or, well, bad graces I suppose."

Crowley sighed and slumped, perhaps still not recovered well enough for this.

Aziraphale handed him the letter. "Just read it and tell me what you think."

Crowley did so, and honestly, it didn't sound too bad, especially considering the alternatives. But there was no accounting with Hell. They could totally buy it, or they could simply ignore it entirely and throw Crowley back onto the rack. He found himself shaking with the thought of even going back there. Oh, how he wished he never had to see Hell again.

Aziraphale seemed to notice and took the paper away from him gently, an apologetic look on his face. "We don't have to do this now if you don't want to, Crowley."

But the demon shook his head swiftly. "No, I—I actually think you have a good idea here. Just…let's wait a couple more days."

"Of course," Aziraphale said, seeming relived.

If Crowley were being honest, he was grateful to Aziraphale for this. He was rather fond of Earth, of his flat, of his car, London, humans in general. He didn't want to leave the planet, not really. And he would only seem a coward if he didn't even try this.

He just really hoped it wouldn't come back to bite him.

They set it up in a cheap hotel down in the East End. The staging took them a few minutes to get everything to look right. The room itself was dirty and didn't take much to look like a place two supernatural beings had been hiding out in for a couple weeks. Crowley insisted on the cuffs attached to the old radiator sitting on one side of the room and ran them around his wrists violently to make it look like he'd been wearing them for a while. He could at least make Aziraphale seem more cruel than he was for the sake of the ruse even though the angel still seemed to take offence.

They tossed chairs and turned over a lamp to make it look like a struggle had ensued. Aziraphale materialized his wings and shook loose several feathers, as did Crowley. Aziraphale then plucked one of the longer ones and used it to cut open his palm with a wince. He dropped some blood around the room and then dipped the quill in the blood as he turned to the paper with the 'confession' he had written out and spread on the desk.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked Crowley one more time.

The demon still wasn't entirely sure, but he nodded. They'd gone this far, they may as well continue. The angel certainly wasn't allowed to have doubts since he was the one who came up with all of this in the first place.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and signed his name at the bottom. He set the feather on top of it as proof and turned to the demon.

Crowley was suddenly reluctant to be alone, especially with demons coming. And really, could anyone blame him? But he needed to do this if he wanted to have any kind of life in the future where he wasn't constantly hunted.

"Thanks," he said suddenly. "For everything."

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile. "It will be okay, Crowley. We'll get this all settled."

Crowley nodded, biting his lip, knowing he was just delaying the inevitable. "You should go. Get far enough away so they don't sense you."

Aziraphale nodded then, "You'll get in contact with me as soon as you're back on earth, right?"

Crowley nodded. "Yeah, of course. Just uh…don't expect me back any time soon."

"Be careful, Crowley," Aziraphale told him sincerely.

"You too," Crowley muttered and Aziraphale finally, reluctantly, left the room.

Crowley waited a while for Aziraphale to get far enough away, pacing, wondering if he should just forget this whole thing anyway, but finally he got his courage together. He went over to the small radio in the room and turned it on.

It didn't take long to get the communication through, and it took even less time for the demons to show up, Hastur, of course, being one of them. They cast bland looks around the scene and Crowley was barely able to snatch up the letter and Aziraphale's feather before he was dragged away, trying to tell his story.

The demons pretended not to hear him. Crowley was dragged back to Hell, but thankfully ended up in front of Lord Beelzebub instead of back in the torture chamber. The demon lord watched him indifferently as he was thrown to his knees.

"Well, Crowley, you finally decide to grace uz with your prezzence again?"

"I can explain everything," Crowley said and launched into the well-rehearsed story, his throat aching from so much talking, but Beelzebub seemed to be listening if not entirely believing everything he said.

Finally, Crowley came to the end and handed over the letter, the "confession" Aziraphale had signed.

"You got the angel to zign thizzzz?" the demon lord buzzed skeptically, even as he turned the feather over in his fingers.

"With his own sword held at his throat," Crowley said, forcing a proud note into his voice even though he was terrified. "Was stupid enough to leave it lying around. I slipped my cuffs and got it, overpowered him."

"He's obviously lying, just like before!" Hastur cut in finally. The Duke had been huffing in agitation at Crowley's back during the entire telling of the tale.

"Before being when Malebranche was punishing him?" Beelzebub asked.

"When I was being unjustly detained," Crowley reminded. "I told them I had been using the angel as an inside source. We'd formed an agreement to share information—I, of course, was leading him on the whole time—I just didn't realize he was doing the same thing with me until it was too late." He glanced back at Hastur with a dark expression he didn't have to fake. "The only reason I ended up down here is because Hastur has had it out for me for as long as I can remember. Jealous of all my commendations and obviously not wanting me to get another big break."

Hastur spluttered. "That is not true, my lord!"

"Silenzzze," Beelzebub cut in sharply then once again fixed Crowley with a stare. "This iz indeed zzigned in angel blood with a genuine angel feather. I see no other reason for this to be the case unlezzz Master Crowley iz indeed telling the truth."

"If he is, then why didn't he say anything about it before?" Hastur demanded.

"I did!" Crowley spat out. "I tried to say I was working as a double agent. But Malebranche started in on the torture before I could get to any of the good stuff and then he poured holy water down my throat so I couldn't talk even if I wanted to!"

Beelzebub sighed and set the confession aside. "In truth, with Malebranche dead, we don't really have any other choice but to see your story az the truth. After all, what other reason would an angel have to come all the way down here and drag a demon off unlezz he wanted to cover something up."

Crowley fought the urge to snort. They were just as dense as Aziraphale had guessed. Of course they would never jump to the conclusion that he and the angel were actually friends.

Hastur squawked in anger. "They've been fraternizing for years! Decades! Maybe longer!"

Or maybe the stupidest one had gotten it right.

"We've been clashing swords," Crowley cut in with a derisive snarl. "That fact that we're both on earth means that we do run into each other periodically. The angel has become something of a nemesis to me. And just look at all the things I've done for Hell! I'm loyal!"

Beelzebub waved a hand to cut off another protest from Hastur. "You are one of our bezzt tempters, Crowley, I will say that. Countlezz commendations have gone your way."

"Thank you," Crowley said, bowing slightly, thinking that might be a good idea considering the circumstances.

"And there will be another one for you if you share the information you gathered from the angel."

"Gladly," Crowley said, thinking fast about exactly what he could come up with to "share" about angels and heaven. Something to make the demons look particularly stupid. "I will write up a full report."

"Very well, you are dizmizzzed," Beelzebub said, waving a hand.

If Crowley had been expecting an apology for his treatment, he would have been disappointed. Obviously, they didn't care about what he had gone through, they thought not putting him back on the rack was apology enough. Crowley felt fury welling up inside of him, but there was little he could do about it. He was shocked their plan had actually succeeded. He was trembling with pent up nerves and he could barely make it out the door.

Hastur and his crony Ligur cornered him in the hallway, and Crowley stopped, glowering at them as he found himself pressed back against the wall.

"You may have fooled Lord Beelzebub with your fancy words and your fancy letter, but you'll never fool me, Crowley," Hastur growled at him, leaning close to his face. "I know the truth, and so did Malebranche. He told me how you defended the angel in the park."

Crowley snarled at the other demon. "And you can't prove anything so get out of my way!" he shoved past him and Ligur, continuing on his way down the hall.

"This isn't over, Crowley!" Hastur called after him.

Crowley shot him a rude gesture, feeling a little better as he did so, and hurried away.

He'd survived this time. Now he just had to make sure he continued to do so.

It was nearly a week later when Aziraphale met Crowley in the park again. He sat on a bench reading a book, trying not to look like he was waiting for anyone. He still wasn't sure if it was safe for them to meet in public, but figured it was better than him being seen at Crowley's flat or leading the demons back to the bookshop. Crowley had sent him a message after he'd settled things with Hell as promised, and they had agreed on a time and a place for the meeting. Aziraphale was obviously relieved it had been settled so swiftly, though he wasn't so foolish as to think it would really be that easy. They would have to be quite careful for a while.

Crowley finally showed up, sliding onto the bench next to him and sprawling in his usual nonchalant attitude. Except Aziraphale could tell there was a tense undertone to his actions, a poised wariness. He wore his sunglasses again, but Aziraphale could tell he was scanning the surrounding area. His skin was also pale, and there were still healing bruises and scars visible on his face.

"Crowley," Aziraphale greeted, relief obvious in his voice. "Are you well?"

Crowley shrugged. "I've been better." He glanced over toward the angel. "Your plan worked."

Aziraphale smiled slightly, relieved and a little excited that it had actually gone over. "I told you it would."

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was rolling his eyes even though he couldn't see. "Yes, alright, you're brilliant, is that what you want to hear?"

Aziraphale closed his book gently, waiting a beat before asking, "So everything is…back to normal?"

"I got a commendation," Crowley said. "For information that may or may not be true about angels and Heaven."

Aziraphale cocked his head to one side. "I made a report myself to explain what happened. In case they heard it through other sources, of course."

"And what did Heaven have to say about your capture and subsequent loss of a dangerous criminal?" Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow.

Aziraphale sighed. "I got a 'nice try, do better next time'."

Crowley actually chuckled. "Well, you did manage to lose your prisoner after he outsmarted you and, after everything, still managed to get away with the information you fed him."

"Which, he'll realize isn't at all true soon enough," Aziraphale smiled back then his expression faded as he once again studied Crowley's face with the new scars slowly fading into the pale skin. "Let's hope we can avoid doing something like this again."

"Ngh," Crowley gave a nondescript noise in agreement. He fidgeted for a long moment before he said, not looking at the angel, "You know I wasn't mad you saved me, right?"

Aziraphale was slightly surprised by this admission. Of course, he had known that, but he had never expected Crowley to bring it up. "I know you were worried about what might come of my actions. But I never thought that."

Crowley fidgeted again. "It's just that… knowing you killed Malebranche…on my account…I hoped it wouldn't ruin you."

"Well, it's hardly wrong for an angel to kill a demon," Aziraphale said. "And yes, it was the first time I ever actually killed anyone—at least for sure…face-to-face like that. But…I don't regret it. Not at all. In fact, I think he had it coming."

"He did," Crowley growled. "It's just that…I never wanted you to have to do something like that. Especially for me."

"Oh, but Crowley, that's just what friends, comrades in arms do," Aziraphale told him. "There may come a day when we have to make our own side in things, you know. And we will have to make perhaps…sacrifices of character...to survive."

"I suppose so," Crowley said, a dark look on his face.

Aziraphale smiled, trying to lighten to mood. "But not now, definitely not now. Right now, we're safe again, I think."

"Yes," Crowley muttered, plucking at his coat sleeve, tugging it over the welts still visible on his wrists. "Angel…" He opened his mouth but couldn't seem to get the words out, sitting there floundering until Aziraphale took mercy on him.

"I know, Crowley," he said softly. "You're welcome. But that's just what friends do, remember? That's our Arrangement."

Crowley closed his mouth and gave a small jerky nod. Aziraphale tucked his book inside his jacket, wanting to change the subject before Crowley got too far into whatever dark place he was slipping into. "Perhaps I could take you out for tea? There's a lovely little place not far from here. They make the most delicious Victoria sponge."

Crowley bit his lip. "I'm not sure it's safe. We probably shouldn't even stay here long…"

"Then maybe we can have a nice glass of wine back at my place," Aziraphale suggested. "I'll go first, of course, and you can make sure there's no one around before you just happen to turn up as well."

Crowley seemed to relax, and gave a small, tentative but genuine, smile. "Very well. You've tempted me."

"Oh, now," Aziraphale tutted and stood up, strolling back down the pathway toward the bus stop.

He glanced back once to see Crowley still sitting on the bench, watching the ducks. Aziraphale really hoped his friend would be okay, he was sure Crowley would recover in time, and yet, it felt like something had changed. A veil had been lifted, and normally that was a good thing, but in this case, he wasn't so sure. Maybe things weren't so much black and white as they had been trying to convince themselves of their entire existences, and yet were defying every day just by being friends. He wasn't exactly sure what this meant, or if he even wanted to find out, but he had a feeling it was going to be important someday.

He just hoped that no matter what, he never had to lose his best friend because of it.

But not tonight. Tonight, they would drink wine and reminisce about better times. It would make them both feel better, he was sure. And whatever came next, the only thing he was certain of is that they would be at each other's sides, no matter what.