"Bring in the traitor."

Aziraphale was taken down a long, dingy corridor with flickering lights, his wrists tied together in front of him. He was appalled. This was where Crowley had to go? This is all he had to 'look forward' to, if that was even possible? It was so — so depressing. The air (or lack thereof) was practically suffocating, especially when compared to Earth, and everyone seemed so angry...

He was led into a room that was even darker than the corridor, the sunglasses Crowley liked to wear making it near-impossible for him to see anything. The only thing that was easy to see was a shiny, white bathtub that was stood at the front of the room. Or the back, depending on how you looked at it. He could also just about make out someone — he thought it might be Beelzebub — sitting on a throne of sorts, with a demon standing on either side.

"Hey guys. Nice place you've got here."

"Not for you, it won't be." He was sure that the demon who had spoken was Hastur, the one Crowley would occasionally complain about.

"Could do with some house plants," Aziraphale continued, thinking of the terrified plants he'd found in Crowley's house. "Maybe a coffee table."

"Silence!" Beelzebub said, sounding a little irritated. "The prisoner shall approach."

"Love to."

He took a couple of steps forwards, trying not to pay attention to the worries that were slowly filling his head.

What if they find out? Or worse, what if something happens that only a demon could withstand? Oh, I do hope Crowley's alright...

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to use logic to get these thoughts out of his mind, like Crowley usually did for him.

There's no reason for them to realise that anything is amiss. As long as you stay calm and act the part, everything will be tickety-boo.

"So, four of us," he said, wondering why they didn't just get on with the punishment. The longer it took, the more time there was for his true identity to be discovered. "Rubber of bridge? Barbershop quartet?"

"The trial of a traitor?" Beelzebub suggested.

Aziraphale winced. He hated that last word — it reminded him too much of the war between the angels and those that became demons. Not to mention that he knew it made Crowley think about his Fall.

He quickly returned his face to a more Crowley-like expression, wondering why they would even have a trial in the first place. He was sure that Crowley-as-Aziraphale would get a trial up in Heaven — they were the good guys, after all — but had never expected to be offered the same courtesy down here in Hell.

"Lord Beelzebub, you are...?"

"I'm the judge." It seemed he was making Beelzebub increasingly annoyed, which did satisfy him somewhat.

"And I'm the prosecutor," Hastur said.

Aziraphale looked at the demon on Beelzebub's other side, trying to work out who it was. He flicked back through many different conversations with Crowley, sure that they'd spoken about the other beings they worked with (or for) at some point.

Ah, right. Dagon.

"And so Dagon here is defending me?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not," Dagon said. "No, I'm just here in case there's anything you've done that they forgot."

Aziraphale nodded a little, a comment about the injustice of such a biased trial bubbling on the tip of his tongue. But no — he had to stay calm, and not put Crowley in danger by voicing his opinions.

"But we built this place for you specially," Beelzebub said, leaning forwards. "It shall be your place of trial. And it shall be your place of destruction."

The last sentence sent a surge of anger through Aziraphale, the first time he had felt this way about how Crowley was treated by what were supposed to be his friends — or allies, at the very least. He was now starting to suspect this 'trial' was really just an opportunity for the higher-ranking demons to exert their power.

"Guys, you shouldn't have gone to all the trouble." He looked at the three demons in front of him. "What appears to be the problem?"

And so, the trial commenced. Aziraphale wasn't really paying too much attention to most of what was being said, not wanting to increase his anger to a level where it couldn't be contained anymore. He did pick up on a couple of things — the use of the holy water Crowley had asked him for, and the fact that, despite everything, the worst insult the demons were giving himself-as-Crowley was 'traitor'.

Aziraphale thought back to his visits to Heaven, and Gabriel's trips to Earth. Almost every single one had left him feeling inadequate in some way, and that feeling had always stemmed from the things the other angels had said. He had always told himself that it was normal; that if he wasn't so soft, perhaps he would get their praise. But now he was in Hell, posing as a demon they were incredibly angry with, and the worst thing they had said was that he was a traitor. Well, other than the 'place of destruction' thing, but he didn't think that really counted.

"Creatures of Hell—"

Beelzebub's voice brought Aziraphale out of his thoughts, and back to the matter at hand; he looked behind him, where a gathering of demons was stood behind a window, watching and listening to everything.

"—you have heard the evidence against the demon known as Crowley. What is your verdict?"

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!"

Aziraphale's lip trembled an almost imperceptible amount as he turned to face the three main demons of the trial.

"Do you have anything to say before we take our vengeance on you?"

Aziraphale silently thought of all the things he'd love to say, if only it wouldn't get Crowley in trouble, until he eventually settled for a simple, "What's it to be? An eternity in the deepest pit?"

Please don't let it be that, please don't let it be that, please don't let it be that...

"No, we're going to do something even worse. Letting the punishment fit the crime," Hastur said.

The ring of a bell suddenly sounded far away, and Aziraphale heard someone walking down the corridor towards them. He turned towards the doorway, not believing his eyes when he saw who it was.

"The Archangel Michael? That's... unlikely," he said, stumbling over his words.

"Cooperation with our old enemies."

"Well, wank-wings, you brought the stuff?" Hastur asked.

It was only now that Aziraphale properly noticed the jug of clear liquid, which he assumed was holy water.

"I did. I'll be back to collect it." Michael said, holding the jug out for someone to take.

"No, I think perhaps you ought to do the honours. It's... I've seen what that stuff can do," Hastur said, inhaling deeply.

Michael silently started dramatically pouring the holy water into the bathtub, looking, in Aziraphale's opinion, like a complete idiot.

I can't believe I just thought that about one of the other angels... do they know I just thought that? Well no, surely, otherwise they would have found out about myself and Crowley much sooner. Oh, Crowley — I hope he's alright... no, of course he's alright. He will presumably be in hellfire, unless he managed to convince the angels that he — I did nothing wrong, although that isn't very likely. I do hope he isn't hurt at all, though.

It took much longer for the jug to empty than Aziraphale had expected, which gave him far too much time to think about what would've happened to Crowley, had it really been him down here. Pain rippled across his face, though it was only visible for a matter of moments, and was soon replaced by a look of what he thought would be Crowley-like apprehension.

"That's holy water," he said, a slight tremble in his voice.

"The holiest, yes."

"Uh, it's not that we don't trust you, Michael, but obviously we don't trust you," Beelzebub said. "Hastur, test it."

Aziraphale watched with barely-concealed horror and indignation as Hastur picked up the small demon creature standing nearby, ignoring its protests.

"No. No, no, no. Hold on — what have I done? No, no! Please!"

"Wrong place, wrong time."

He dropped the demon into the holy water, and Aziraphale winced as it dissolved into nothing, pleading the whole time.

They killed one of their own for no reason at all. Oh, poor Crowley... I can see why he would rather stay up on Earth... but that was unnecessary, completely unnecessary.

"Demon Crowley, I sentence you to extinction by holy water," Beelzebub said, not sounding at all perturbed by what had just happened. "You have anything to say?"

Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Well, yes. Um..." he hesitated for a second, then continued with, "this is a new jacket, and I'd hate to ruin it. Do you mind if I take it off?"

The silence his question was met with prompted him to make his request even more ridiculous.

"In fact, how about you just switch me into something more appropriate for bathing?"
Beelzebub gave an irritated nod, seeming to realise that Aziraphale-as-Crowley was never going to shut up and get into the bath if his stupid requests weren't met, and quickly miracled him into a swimsuit.

"Ah, perfect."

He casually got into the bath and lay down, putting his legs over either side like he was sure Crowley would do, and started to flick the holy water at the window the watching demons were standing behind. They all gasped and stumbled backwards, which gave Aziraphale a rather strange sense of satisfaction. He knew he wasn't supposed to enjoy making anyone fear for their lives, or anything of that kind, but these were the demons who had made Crowley's life... well, hell. These were the ones who had come to watch him die.

"I don't suppose that, anywhere in the nine circles of Hell, there's such a thing as a rubber duck?" he said casually, turning his head towards Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon. At their shocked silence, he added a simple, "No?"

This is quite fun, actually, he thought to himself, humming quietly as he flicked a little more water. It's a shame it had to come to this, though. Poor Crowley would have been — well—

He stopped himself thinking about it, not wanting to imagine Crowley getting into the holy water instead, and the horrible scene that would've followed. No, it was best to keep that image out of his mind completely.

"He's gone native," Beelzebub said eventually. "He isn't one of us anymore."

Aziraphale splashed the window again, earning him some more gasps from the demons, then turned to the others once more.

"So, you're probably thinking, 'If he can do this... I wonder what else can he do?'" he said, a slight smirk on his face. "And very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out."

"He's bluffing," Hastur said, taking a few steps towards him. "We can take him. One demon against the rest of Hell? What's he gonna do?"

"Shut it!" Beelzebub's voice was sharp, but Aziraphale could hear the slight hint of panic hidden within it. "Get him out of here; this'll cause a riot."

Aziraphale started flicking more holy water at the window as Beelzebub addressed the demons behind it.

"What're you all looking at? Nothing to see! Nothing to see here!"

The ding of a bell sounded, and Aziraphale suddenly realised that it was a lift bell. Did that mean Michael was back to collect the holy water?

Oh, this will be fun.

"I came to bring back the — oh, Lord," Michael said, catching sight of Aziraphale-as-Crowley still sitting completely unharmed in the bath.

"Michael! Duude! Do us a quick miracle, will you? I need a bath towel," Aziraphale said casually, revelling in the fact that as Crowley, he could say whatever he wanted to his superiors without worrying about their reactions. To his great surprise and amusement, Michael actually did as he asked, passing him a white, fluffy towel with a shaking hand.

"I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?"

Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon all nodded, none of them concealing their shock that well at all. Aziraphale looked over at Michael, who hesitated for a moment, then nodded as well, looking equally as shocked.

"Right."