The newest demon wasn't that hard to track down.

A blonde-haired receptionist was at the main desk when Crowley walked into the office building. She had a mirror in one hand and in the other, a small stick of lipstick, which she was very caught up in replying. It only took Crowley clearing his throat dramatically to pull her away from the mirror and she sighed, getting up and approaching the elevator. When she turned, she motioned for Crowley to follow her.

 They road up to the 20th floor and then he followed her out of the elevator. The walls almost absorbed the light coming from the lamps littered throughout the halls. 

The blonde lead Crowley on through the halls.

 "You're Mr. Anthony, I presume..." Her voice was smooth, sensual almost.

 "And what if I am?"

 "Oh, Master Phale just mention that one Anthony Crowley would be stopping by sometime today..."

 "That's Anthony J. Crowley." He sneered before something in his brain clicked, "Did you say Master Fell?"

His heartbeat kick-started and Crowley suddenly became fidgety. Was Aziraphale actually still alive? If so, why was he here and why couldn't he feel the angel's presence?

 "Oh no, darling. Master Phale," She repeated, emphasizing the a, "He simply hates being confused with that old shop keeper that used to have a shop in Soho."

Every hope Crowley had, suddenly disappeared and he nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

They came upon a large door and the blonde opened it, entering first. 

The room was rather empty, other than a large desk and chair that was turned away from the door. Crowley half expected someone to turn around in the chair and say 'I've been expecting you..' but it didn't happen. Instead, the woman walked around the desk while Crowley stood at the doorway and leaned in. Apparently there was someone in the chair. The blonde whispered something in their ear and the chair started to turn around and leaned in once more to give them a small peck on the corner of their mouth.

Crowley's eyes followed the woman out of the room, turning his back to the desk to watch her.

"It's been quite a while, Anthony..."

Crowley's eyes widened at the sound of the voice and spun around, whipping off the sunglasses that sat on his face, "Aziraphale??"

Sure enough, there he sat, gently wiping the red lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

It was Aziraphale... but it wasn't. The hair was wrong. No longer was his hair white and puffy, but rather slightly curly and dark brown or black. He was thinner.

"I figured this would happen..." His voice slightly different, more alluring, "It's a shame really...

     You ought to stop obsessing over that angel. He is no more."

Crowley gaped at him.

  no....

"Though I do hope that you'll remember my new name..."

   no. no. no...

He stood from the chair and moved around the desk, approaching Crowley slowly. The demonic presence was strong. Too strong. It was almost intoxicating. A slender hand reached out and grasped Crowley's chin between its forefingers, forcing him to look at the newest demon. His face was mere inches away from the serpent's and Crowley could feel the other's breath fan across his lips.

"Azael. Do you think you can remember that Crowley...?"