Demoted

              “He did the right thing you know,”  Crowley stated, as he precariously balanced on Chase’s shoulder while they were in the confessional.  The place was giving him the creeps.  So dark, closed in and threatening, wasn’t this sort of thing his Master’s domain?  What right did God have using it?

              “Mmmphf,”  Azriphale muttered as he nearly fell off Chase’s shoulder, grabbing hold of his collar and struggling to pull himself upright.  He hated the confessional.  Never understood why it had become so in vogue with the Catholics.  If they liked dark mystery so much, the other side offered plenty.  He just wanted out of here.

              “You okay over there?”  Crowley shouted to be overheard over Chase’s rambling and pleadings to the priest.

              “Yeah, yeah.  Just peachy,”  Aziraphale growled as he climbed to a more stable position.  He craned to see Crowley.  He wasn’t used to not being able to see his nemesis turned partner whilst arguing and he certainly wasn’t used to and quite unnerved by only being several inches tall.

              “I can’t believe I am saying this, but he didn’t do anything wrong,”  Crowley said, although a quick check had informed him that Dibala had been working for his side.  He was straddling Chase’s shoulder, facing his head, watching him with great interest as he anguished over his decision to the priest.  He tried to peer through the screen to see him, but couldn’t.

              Aziraphale dusted himself off once he got comfortable in the crook of Chase’s clavical.  He could feel the bone where it had broken as a boy and reset in a slightly off location.  It had happened after his father had left.  He shook his head, that information was irrelavent now.  “It wasn’t his place to take Dibala’s life,”  He said.

              Crowley chuckled at the irony of their positions.  “Even if he did it to alleviate the suffering of many?  Doesn’t the good of the many outweigh the wants and needs of the one or the few?” he asked, playing his part well, his Boss would be pleased.  It might curry him a few points in the Boss’s favor for when he would invariably rush to Aziraphale’s aid.

              “He took an oath not to cause harm to his patients.  Dibala was his patient.  It was not his duty to play avenging angel,”  Aziraphale responded coolly.

              Crowley nodded.  He couldn’t find fault with Azirphale’s argument.  He didn’t want to really, not when he was doing Crowley’s job for him.  He grabbed onto Chase’s shirt when he moved rapidly, turning to beg the priest to tell him what to do, to be absolved.  “Why do they think a few Hail Marys always will fix things?” he shouted over to Aziraphale.

              “I don’t know,”  he answered wearily.  “What are we doing here anyway?”

              “Something about the being the Angel and Devil on his shoulder, so my sources tell me.”

              “Don’t we have better things to do?”  As God’s head angel on Earth he was used to being called in for more important duties.

              “After that debacle that was supposed to be the End of the World, I think we are both on our bosses’ shit list, so here we are.”

              “Hmmmpf,”  Aziraphale snorted.  “I have an idea, let’s go get him drunk.  Then he can pass out and we can decide what to do in peace and quiet,” he said, carefully climbing to his feet and sliding down to Chase’s shirt pocket.