The Demons

I throw some money at the bartender. "That's for the pancakes!" I yell, then rush out the door.

Yeah, being a demon's fun and all, but this was an angel. She didn't deserve it. And now she's going to fall. Fall hard and it will all be my fault. I don't want a girl like her in a dirty, smelly, disgusting place like my home.

"What are you doing?!" Naylin shouts as everyone follows.

I have to stop and think.
But you're still a demon, Ellie.
What goes up must come down, and then you're stuck.
We have a motto,
'Once you've fallen, you can't fly back up again.'

"We can't just let her run away!" I shout back.

"What would Hell do to us then?"

"Ellie, she could be anywhere." Orla sighs the truth.

I look down the humany streets of London frantically. Where would an angel go for safety? If only I'd had a better chance to get to know her. Strengths, weaknesses. Likes. I should have listened to my fellow demons.

"Erm...Ellie?" Tibby's voice breaks my focus. They're all staring at a wooden bench on the grass in front of the café.
And for a second my breath catches in my throat. For a second I have to do a double-take.
"No fucking way."

On the bench sits two entities.
One of them I recognise. Very well.
"How in HELL are you still alive?!" I holler while storming over.

"By no expense whatsoever. Actually, I wasn't even in Hell." Crowley smirks.

"Crowley...do you know these girls?" An angel (clearly) beside him asks. I assume he is the 'Aziraphale' Willow was talking about.
"-And boy? Sorry."

"Yeah, thanks." Naylin grins sarcastically.

"Yes, I do. They, erm...work in Hell." The lazy demon continues.

"We do a bit more than work, Crowley." Orla frowns.

"If you're here to collect me, then can you pick another day? I'm kind of busy right now." He glares at me. I can feel it through the sunglasses.

"Are you kidding me?!" Zerrin scoffs. "We just sang Bohemian Rhapsody in your memory!"

"We did?" Tibby looks puzzled. "I thought we did it just because it would be fun."

"I'm guessing your friend is Aziraphale." Orla says.

"How do you know who I am?" The round angel questions.

"Willow." I say. "Have you got any idea what you put her through?!"

"Oh." Aziraphale looks disheartened.

Crowley gives him a look. "And you didn't think to tell me about this friend of yours?"

"Oh! It isn't like you told me about your friends, either."

"Well...I suppose we're even."

"Great. Now that's all sorted, help us find her. Or we'll hand you both over, and then instead of being punished, we'll be rewarded. But I'm giving you the chance for me to be nice. Where would an angel go to rest and think?"

Aziraphale ponders for a second. "I believe I have an idea."

The Angel

I wish I had a normal life like these human teenagers. The only cares they have are relationships and homework. They don't have to think about their higher authorities hunting them down to discorpate them, or worse. Or your new friends being on the opposite side to you and revealing that they don't really care about you at all. 

I am sitting in the empty storage cupboard of a Religious Education classroom in a Catholic school-watching each feather of my wings (that have suddenly just bloomed) fade into black.

It's strange how some of them instantly fall out after changing shade, and some stay.

It's taken me up until now to realise there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I am falling, and there is no one to catch me, except for the person above me who pushed me off the ledge and whom I know is never coming back. Why would she?

"James. According to the Holy Bible, how is Heaven described?" I hear a muffled voice of a female teacher question one of her students.

"A place of paradise and light, that is filled with eternal happiness." The boy replies.

"Yeah right." I groan under my breath. With every negative thought, a bunch of feathers leave my body, but what is there to be positive about?

Maybe if they all fall out, I will be human.

Ellie and the angels in Heaven are right.

I do belong in Hell. Where everyone is allergic to holy water and has regrets.

But also has a certain amount of free will.

In Heaven, it's beautiful, and if you used to be human, you can have absolutely anything possible-sometimes impossible, but for a modelled angel-Heaven is constantly controlled and corrupted by rules, and you're all terrified to disobey them.

Hell might be different. They seem laid-back.

But it shouldn't be this way round. Heaven is meant to be kind and forgiving, and Hell torture.

So why is Heaven so empty?

Maybe because it's so easy to fall, but so difficult to fly.

The Demons

"A Catholic school?!"

"Mainly the library." Aziraphale huffs.

We stroll into reception, all of us, except for Aziraphale, are on edge. But nothing happens.

"Huh. It's not concentrated." Zerrin shrugs.

Our reflections in the glass look ridiculous. Compared to the humans in smart, dark suits and children in green and burgundy uniforms we are entirely out of place.

"And this is where I leave you. Good luck!" Crowley says, turning on his heel to go back out the door.

"I dont think so." Orla says, grabbing the back of his jacket. "How are we going to get in?"

"Miracles!" Aziraphale gasps. "Or, whatever you call them in Hell."

Crowley groans and points to the sky reluctantly, as the angel snaps his fingers. Just a second later, Crowley has a gorgeous black suit and red tie, with a knee-length skirt, tights and painted fingernails. Her hair is in a red bun and a lanyard with an authentication card is around her neck.

Aziraphale's outfit, however, is practically the opposite. He hasn't decided to change his gender for starters, and he wears a dark grey blazer and matching trousers, with a white shirt and multi-coloured bow-tie.

"Lanyard." Crowley reminds him before magicing one up and intimately placing it around Aziraphale's neck; who blushes.

"Oh. Thank you." He breathes.

This entire interaction doesn't go over any of our heads, and we give each other looks and smirks. After settling down, we follow suit. Literally-we have to wear uniform.

Before we can comment on the disgusting colour arrangement, the 'teachers' scan their cards and let us through. Willow had better be here.