They were the perfect pair. One inky, sooty black; one gleaming, pure white. One angelic, but not particularly nice; one demonic, but not particularly evil. They were balanced. Perfectly.
That was what scared Crowley the most. He knew, in the way that one comes to know things after centuries, nay millenia, of quiet observation, that it is always the things that are so carefully, perfectly, balanced that have the greatest risk of falling.
He had fallen twice so far. First from Grace, then for Grace. Or at least for Grace's chosen representative on Earth. The second fall terrified him more than the first, but he survived them both. It didn't surprise him. It was true that he had picked up a few tricks from the humans over the years, but when it came right down to it, he was built of angel stock, and he had been designed to Fall, had done so without even meaning to. Twice.
But the angel... Crowley had been the last of the angels to fall. He had watched from On High as the rest plummeted, the Light extinguishing from each and every one of them. They had survived, or at least some shell of them had, and now they reigned in Hell. But Aziraphale...
Crowley wondered with a morbid fascination what would happen to his angel. Would his Light ever go out? Would either of them survive if it did? Crowley prayed he'd never find out.
When The Lights Go Out
That was what scared Crowley the most. He knew, in the way that one comes to know things after centuries, nay millenia, of quiet observation, that it is always the things that are so carefully, perfectly, balanced that have the greatest risk of falling.
He had fallen twice so far. First from Grace, then for Grace. Or at least for Grace's chosen representative on Earth. The second fall terrified him more than the first, but he survived them both. It didn't surprise him. It was true that he had picked up a few tricks from the humans over the years, but when it came right down to it, he was built of angel stock, and he had been designed to Fall, had done so without even meaning to. Twice.
But the angel... Crowley had been the last of the angels to fall. He had watched from On High as the rest plummeted, the Light extinguishing from each and every one of them. They had survived, or at least some shell of them had, and now they reigned in Hell. But Aziraphale...
Crowley wondered with a morbid fascination what would happen to his angel. Would his Light ever go out? Would either of them survive if it did? Crowley prayed he'd never find out.