Melted Halo

The demon Crowley staggered into his flat, tossing his jacket aside without another thought. The smell of alcohol hung in a heavy cloud around the serpent, flooding into every corner of the flat. He made his way to the liquor cabinet, flinging open the doors and grabbing a random bottle. He didn't really care what it was, may it be wine or brandy or scotch. It was all blurry at the moment, so even if he did care he wouldn't be able to read the label anyway.

The demon popped open the top of the bottle, raising the rim to his lips and tipping the contents down. The alcohol spilled into his mouth before moving to his throat, the small momental release the liquid gave him coming as a welcome oblivion. He pulled his sunglasses off his face, and they clattered to the floor as the demon made his way into the greenery. He stopped in front of one particular leafy plant that had grown quite well in all the time the demon possessed it.

"Move." Crowley slurred his speech slightly as he took another swig from the bottle.

The plant's leaves moved slightly, but eventually the demon became impatient and he shoved the leaves out of the way, exposing a lockbox hidden behind them. He set the bottle down, grabbing the box with both hands, especially after missing it the first time he tried to grab it.
The serpent brought the box to his office, narrowly avoiding tripping a couple of times and managing to steady himself on the wall. When he got to the office, he dropped the box onto the desk with a loud clunking sound as he flopped into the chair.

He fiddled with the lock, the numbers blurry and jumbled by the alcohol that was fogging his vision. But eventually the lock clicked open and he opened the box.
Inside was a badly damaged golden circle, about as wide around as someone's head. There were singe marks on the rim, and golden droplets hung from where the halo had been melted before, and the frozen tears now hardened back into solid gold. The once-smooth golden surface of the ring was now warped and littered with tiny craters. Parts of the gold was melted off, leaving half-moons in the sides of the halo.

This was an angel's halo. His halo.

Crowley examined the halo, turning it slightly in his fingers as a tear streamed down his face. When he had Fallen, the halo was cast into the sulphur with him. Unlike the other demons, he had managed to save it, and also cared enough to keep it.
Now, all he wanted it to do was glow, just a little bit, just something to tell him that he still could. But the halo didn't respond, as it hadn't since the fall.

The demon raised the golden ring above his head, and then let it go with the hopes that it would float there, like in the old days. But, the old days were gone, and the halo fell onto his head before clattering onto the floor. He picked it up and tried again and again, but the same result came each time.

They say the definition of 'insanity' is doing the same process over and over again and expecting a different result. In this instance, Crowley was exactly that. No matter how many times he tried to get the halo to stay up, it always ended in failure. Eventually, he gave up, clutching the halo in one hand as he covered his face with the other, leaning on the desk by his elbows. His head hung low and his shoulders shook slightly as a sob escaped him.

"Please..." He begged, his words barely above a whisper. "Please. Just once."

Crowley wasn't asking for anyone in particular, just anyone that was listening that could let him feel like his old, good, angelic self again. Just for a minute.
Eventually he fell asleep there, mostly because of the alcohol. The halo hung in his hand innocently through the night.

Aziraphale wanted to check on his friend after the demon stormed out of the bookshop after the two had had a bit of a row. He was calmer now, and the two needed to talk, anyway. So the angel took a cab to Crowley's flat, knocking politely on the door and waiting for a reply.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called, trying the doorknob to find it was unlocked.

He walked inside, looking around the place to find the demon. He noticed the bottle by the plants, which earned a small sigh. He should have expected he'd be drunk.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called again, not having any luck with searching before he finally made his way to the office.

He walked quickly forward to the passed out serpent before he noticed the object shining in Crowley's hands, which caused him to stop dead in his tracks. He stared at the warped and melted gold. He had never heard of a halo surviving the fall, and didn't even think it was possible.

He gently took it from Crowley and examined it, whatever holy power was left humming softly under his fingertips. He got a flash, a second vision of an angel.

The angel with the golden eyes and white hair, and with the happiest smile on his face.
The vision disappeared just as fast as it came, leaving the angel to gasp lightly at the sight. Who was that? Was that what Crowley looked like, before the fall? Many questions filled Aziraphale's head. That was when his eye fell upon the box.

He had seen the box before, just once when he was taking care of Crowley's plants when the demon was having one of his very long naps. He had always been curious of what was inside, but never opened it.

Now he knew. Now he knew what Crowley had been hiding for so many years. Yet, while this had answered the mystery of the box, it gave more questions to the angel then answers.

He looked back at the halo once more before setting it gently back in the box and shutting it, the lock clicking into place as soon as the lid was on. He put it back into its hiding spot before going back to help Crowley into bed.

Aziraphale never told Crowley he knew about the halo, and Crowley didn't bring it up, seemingly having forgotten that night.
Perhaps, Aziraphale figured, It's better this way.

Author's note: Constructive Criticism is always appreciated, so if you have any pointers don't be afraid to comment them!