The Ashes of Eden

Eden

Eden.
There everything had started. The great tournament over the true nature of the human race.

Furthermore, the story of two souls, who couldn't have been more different. However right from the beginning their fates had been interwoven. Not in the enigmatical plan of the lord and savior, but with each other.

At the first impression, they were two poles fighting for the opposite side. Two puzzle pieces, who didn't fit together at all. Both of them despised the other with a burning, yet fascinated passion. Neither of them was willing to give in, especially not to lose the battle of their principals. In any case, Crowley had never been more convinced to win a fight. "I won't stop until the Ashes of Eden fall." He had sworn himself.

Actually, it had never been the strong conviction that his side was the right one, which had driven him to keep going. Rather his growing displeasure, whenever he imagined the victory of this angel and his party. At least their battle had never been fought by force. Most of the time they had been contented with snappy comments and tensed conversations.

Above all due to Aziraphale's refusal to use such barbaric means to answer the question: "Is the human nature good or bad?" The nasty moralizer always reasoned his cowardly behavior with his pure heart and an actual fight not being part of the divine plan.

Unfortunately, he had always been right with that. So, their little war went on for quite some time, days turned to weeks, months, years and in the end decades. Only the way of their connection slowly changed rather unexpectedly over the passing centuries.

The more often their paths crossed, the more Crowley had to admit this man was the only constant in his life, besides the never-ending human stupidity. So, with time their exchange of words grew more and more playful. A macabre joke here. An ironic tease there. Nothing too serious.

The realization of them actually sitting in the same boat had hit the demon hard, once they both had been staring at Noah's Ark. They were only marionettes, controlled by different hands, but fixated onto the same goal: "Winning humanity for their puppeteer." Of course, they had both chosen different kinds of weapons in this war, however in the end they were only soldiers in a divine or satanic battle.

At some point of their history, Crowly had realized that something about the angel's attitude towards him had changed as well. Suddenly they were greeting each other like old friends. Sometimes he would even bust himself worrying about his nemesis. Unbelievable. Yet the bitter truth.

The older humanity grew, the less he had to work and the more his enemy seemed to give in. 

Instead, Aziraphale had forfeited human temptations like wine, literature, and food, especially pastry. For the demon a rather pleasant also amusing evolution of his righteous, honorable, and pure character. Without any doubt Crowley had also fallen for some little temptations, but surely not that much. He would never sink to such a level. Never. Also, he wouldn't have been a fallen angel, if he hadn't sinned from time to time... Or daily.

Time marched on, the ancient Greece fell, of course with a soft push into the wrong direction. The roman empire went down in flames, basically stabbed in the back by karma. The angel managed an abashing victory during the middle ages, but Crowley quickly corrupted every pope he could get his claws on. Quickly the tide turned.

For a few years the black pestilence raged over the continents. The Spanish inquisition did as well. They delivered souls for of their both sides. The age of enlightenment spilled foil into the purgatory. Countless tragedies but also miracles happened, tipping the scale back and forth without both parties working a lot. Even though the angel still was more diligent than him.

The first world war had been harsh for both of them it had demanded a lot of attention, sugar coated words, blood, sweat and swears. Crowley had caught himself worrying over his immortal "friend" from time to time. However, life had done him the favor of letting their paths cross here and there, so he could check on him.

In the middle of the first world war, his old friend hadn't been in a good shape. All the despair, darkness, cruelty... While the serpent had felt more powerful than ever, Aziraphale had suffered terribly. His angelic aura had decreased with every innocent soul that had gotten shattered between the battle fronts. 

During that time the demon had tried taking care off his friend, but there had barely been time for having lunch together. Getting drunk with each other. Their usual habits got broken, causing Crowley to feel drained as well.

Humans were plain individuals, always missing out on the bigger picture. He was sick of wasting his time with them, but on the other hand he had no choice.

Finally, Germany got defeated. Those dark times ended. One man's joy, another man's sorrow. Well, honestly, the Archangel was feeling better, so they both had gained something out of it.