Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or Good Omens.

As always, enjoy.

Aziraphale should never be allowed to drive. But he had so wanted to learn and a flat, country road in the middle of nowhere had seemed like a safe enough place. Oh how wrong Crowley had been.

It was his fault. Crowley had been the one to agree to teach Aziraphale how to drive. And he'd been the one to forget about animals. The small, suicidal bunnies or squirrels that liked to hang out in the middle of the road.

Aziraphale had taken one look at the bunny and panicked. He'd tried to break, but because he was panicking, he hit the gas pedal instead of the break, and went faster. So Aziraphale had swerved, the Bentley had gone spinning and Crowley had wound up squished against a telephone pole.

Crowley woke up in a place was… not Hell. Last time he was here, Hell had not been this clean or orderly… or anything bordering on nice.

The room resembled a war hospital, some seventy-odd years ago. A very clean, sterilized would be better word, war hospital. Perhaps they had decided to operate on him. Some of the operations people went through these days, would be every synonym for horrible if the patients were they were not unconscious. It was still better than the Spanish Inquisition though.

Crowley was not left alone to ponder his fate, for long. A problem since Crowley had always been a fan of delaying the inevitable. He'd also have liked some more time to come up with a way to talk his way out of this. Not he could, but if he could, than Crowley would need more time to formulate a strategy.

A young demon, scarcely two centuries old, earth-standard time, came through the door, and bowed to him. Crowley had been bowed to a few times in multiple millennia long life. It was an act he associated with the fourteenth century. Not that anyone had bowed to him in that particular century.

"Serpent of Eden," said the demon. "The king of hell would like to see you."

Crowley had been expecting that. He still flinched, and glanced around the room. This was Hell, it was inescapable.

"Please follow me," the demon continued.

"How mad id he look?" Crowley asked.

"Not mad," said demon. "He looked ecstatic."

Crowley grimaced, but followed the demon through the door and into an elevator. Inside the younger demon pasted herself against the elevator wall, and glanced at him warily.

"Were you really an angel, once?" the demon asked.

"Yes," said Crowley, surprised at the question.

The elevator door dinged open. "Go down the hall, and through the door at the end," said the demon.

The hall was made of obsidian, lined with columns, and windowless. This looked vaguely like the Hell Crowley remembered. The doors swung open, and an English accented voice came through it. "Enter."

Lucifer was not in the office. Another young demon, three centuries old, sat behind a mahogany desk. The other demon was right, he did look ecstatic.

"Welcome back to Hell," he said. "Take a seat."

"Who are you?" Crowley asked.

The new King of Hell smirked, smugly. "You and your husband have been playing house for over fifteen years."

"I'm not married to Aziraphale," A.J. interrupted.

"It's not surprising that you haven't heard the comings and goings," Not-Lucifer continued. "Short hand is Lucifer decided he didn't need Adam Young for the apocalypse, and went to work destroying the world. You might have noticed the omens… I, in my divine wisdom, realized daddy dearest didn't and wouldn't want his black and red-eyed kiddies to live with him. He'd kick us out. So I got rid of him."

"You killed him?" A.J. asked, incredulously.

"No," said the King. "But I did help two extremely co-dependent brothers, their pet, trench-coat wearing pigeon, and surrogate daddy get the keys, to a cage, that could hold him. Lucifer rode a moose in with only a few hiccups."

The new King's story had cleared exactly one thing up for A.J. Lucifer was in a cage, which meant he wouldn't be torturing A.J. anytime soon. But there were others…

"What about Hastur, Beelzebub, Ligur?" Crowley asked.

"Dead," said the King. "I believe introductions are in order. Names Crowley, I've called you here because I'm a fan of your work."

"You have good taste in names," said A.J. Crowley.

"Thanks," said Crowley, King of Hell. "Take a seat."

A.J. Crowley did so, albeit hesitantly.

"And you are A.J. Crowley, also known as Crawly, the Serpent of Eden, and the last of the fallen angel demons," Crowley recanted.

"I did not fall," A.J. interrupted. "I more sauntered off in a vaguely downward. You said you were a fan of my work."

"I am," said Crowley. "Particularly the telephone, now that was truly ingenious."

A.J. beamed in appreciation, and said: "I take you're behind the demons actually switching to using phones."

Crowley nodded, "Oh, yes. Now, I have a proposition for you."

"I am all ears," said A.J.

"Demons, the formerly human variety at least, are unintelligent bunch. Unsurprising as most of us used to be humans, and humans aren't the brightest basket of light bulbs," said Crowley.

A.J. could sympathize. How many times had he silently cursed Hastur for his fourteenth century thinking? More times than A.J. cared to count. While A.J. had not interacted with younger, former human demons often, he knew enough about them to agree with the new King of Hell.

"I would like to put you in charge a new department I'm opening, one that gets souls for Hell on a global scale." said Crowley. "You'd be able to stay on earth with your husband…"

"Aziraphale is not my husband," said A.J. "Though I do like it on earth."

Crowley nodded in agreement, "There is Craig there. And steak."

"What were you saying about the new department?" A.J. asked. "What would I do?"

"Screw with humans, mostly," said Crowley. "Darken their souls, bit by bit. I read Hastur's notes on what you did, tying up the telephones. I would like you to do things of that nature."

A.J. leaned back in his chair. "I already am doing that, in a way."

"I know," said Crowley. "But like I said, this is a promotion. I want to put you in charge of the department. Give you a raise, and a legion of minions at your disposal."

A.J. did like the sound of that.

Crowley looked at the clock, "I have to get to a meeting. Shall we hammer out the details over dinner? I know a lovely restaurant in Boston we could go to."

A.J. got up. "Pick me up at seven."

Crowley grinned, "It's a date."

It's a date.