The Feedback Session

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday, delivered by a rather flustered cherub who kept apologizing for the intrusion. Aziraphale accepted it with a gracious smile, but the moment the cherub vanished, his expression soured.

"It's from Gabriel," he said, holding the parchment as if it might bite. "He wants a 'feedback session' regarding my conduct during the failed Apocalypse."

Crowley, sprawled on Aziraphale's sofa with a bottle of wine in hand, snorted. "Feedback session? That's code for 'we're going to yell at you for an hour.'"

"I know." Aziraphale sighed, setting the invitation on his desk. "But I can't very well refuse. It's an official summons."

"So don't go."

"I have to go!" Aziraphale wrung his hands. "If I don't, they'll assume I'm guilty of something worse. Though I suppose I am guilty. Of thwarting the Apocalypse. Which they wanted."

"Exactly. So you're a hero. They should be giving you a medal, not a feedback session."

Aziraphale shook his head. "Heaven doesn't work that way. They'll want to discuss my 'unauthorized fraternization' with a demon, among other things."

Crowley sat up, intrigued. "Unauthorized fraternization? That sounds scandalous."

"It's not funny, Crowley. They could discorporate me. Or worse."

"Right, right. So... what're you going to do?"

"Go, I suppose. And hope for the best."

Crowley tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I could come with you."

"What? No! Absolutely not. Demons aren't allowed in Heaven. You'd be smited on sight."

"Who said anything about going as a demon?" Crowley grinned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I can be an angel. I've got the wings, the halo. I just need a bit of a wardrobe change and a personality adjustment."

"You can't 'be an angel.' That's not how it works."

"Watch me." Crowley snapped his fingers. His black suit transformed into flowing white robes, his sunglasses vanished, and his hair became a neat, golden wave. He stood, and the room seemed to brighten. "How do I look?"

Aziraphale stared, torn between horror and admiration. "You look... angelic. But it won't fool anyone. They'll sense your demonic essence."

"I'll mask it. I've got enough grace from hanging around you all these years. Plus, I'll stick close to you. Your sanctity should cover me."

"This is a terrible idea."

"Probably. But it'll be fun. And you need moral support. Or immoral support, in my case."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, but he knew that expression on Crowley's face. It was the same look he'd worn before suggesting they swap holy water for a blessing. "Fine. But if you get discorporated, don't blame me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

---

The gates of Heaven were as ostentatious as ever. Aziraphale led the way, Crowley trailing behind with an expression of serene piety that made Aziraphale want to laugh. They passed through the pearly checkpoint without incident, though the angel on duty gave Crowley a curious look.

"New arrival?" asked the angel.

"Transfer," said Crowley smoothly. "From the outer Rings. I'm... Ambriel."

Aziraphale coughed to cover his surprise. Ambriel? That was the name of a minor angel who'd been sent to monitor a particularly boring nebula. Crowley must have done his research.

The angel nodded and waved them through. They walked down a long corridor of clouds, and Aziraphale whispered, "Ambriel? Really?"

"What? It's a real angel. I borrowed the name."

"You borrowed an angel's identity?"

"Temporarily. He's on sabbatical. Won't notice."

They reached a large conference room where Gabriel sat at the head of a long table, Michael standing behind him like a disapproving statue. Aziraphale took a seat, and Crowley stood behind him, hands clasped.

Gabriel smiled, an expression that never reached his eyes. "Aziraphale. So good of you to come. And you brought... an assistant?"

"Ambriel," said Crowley, bowing slightly. "I'm shadowing Aziraphale as part of my continuing education."

"How quaint," said Michael, her voice flat. "We didn't know you had a shadow."

Aziraphale forced a smile. "Ambriel has been very helpful. Now, what did you wish to discuss?"

Gabriel leaned forward. "Your performance during the failed Apocalypse. We have some concerns."

"Concerns?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "I thought it went rather well, all things considered. The Apocalypse was averted, humanity survived, and Heaven's plans were... adjusted."

"Adjusted?" Michael scoffed. "You actively worked with a demon to prevent the Second Coming. That's treason."

"It was the right thing to do."

"Right according to whom?" Gabriel asked, his tone icy. "You overstepped your authority. You consorted with a demon. You destroyed holy weaponry. And you allowed the Antichrist to grow up as a normal boy."

Crowley cleared his throat. "If I may interject, Supreme Archangel Gabriel, isn't it true that the Antichrist's upbringing was a joint effort between Heaven and Hell? And that both sides failed to supervise him adequately?"

Gabriel's eye twitched. "Who is this?"

"Ambriel," said Aziraphale quickly. "From the outer Rings. He's very... knowledgeable."

"He seems very familiar with the details," said Michael, narrowing her eyes.

Crowley shrugged. "I read the reports. Very thorough. The section on your golf tournament during the critical monitoring period was particularly enlightening."

Aziraphale choked. Gabriel's smile vanished.

"What golf tournament?" Michael asked.

"Nothing!" Gabriel snapped. "There was no golf tournament."

"I must have misread," Crowley said innocently. "Apologies."

The tension in the room spiked. Aziraphale seized the moment. "Look, we all know the Apocalypse was a mess. Both sides dropped the ball. But in the end, a solution was found. I merely facilitated it."

"You fraternized with a demon," Michael accused.

"I did. And I'd do it again. He's my friend."

Gabriel leaned back, his eyes darting between Aziraphale and Crowley. "This 'Ambriel'... you seem to be taking a very sympathetic stance toward demons."

"I believe in understanding all perspectives," said Crowley. "It's a key skill for an angel of my... department."

"Which department?" Michael asked.

"The Department of Interdimensional Correspondence."

"There is no such department."

"That's what they want you to think."

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. This was getting out of hand. "Perhaps we could focus on the feedback? I'm happy to discuss my actions, but I won't apologize for saving the world."

Gabriel stood. "The matter has been noted. The High Council will deliberate. In the meantime, you're to remain on Earth and refrain from any further... unsanctioned activities."

"Of course."

As they left, Michael fell into step beside them. "Ambriel, a moment?"

Crowley stiffened. "Yes?"

"I've been in Heaven for millennia. I know every angel by name. I've never heard of you."

"I'm from the outer Rings. We don't get many visitors."

"Which Ring?"

"The fourth. It's very foggy."

Michael's eyes flickered. "Step into this alcove with me."

Aziraphale's heart raced. He watched as Michael led Crowley into a small side room. He heard a muttered incantation—a test of angelic essence. There was a flash of light, and then silence.

When they emerged, Michael looked confused. Crowley looked smug.

"Your essence checks out," Michael said, almost disappointed. "But I'll be watching you."

"I'd expect nothing less," said Crowley, and he smiled beatifically.

As soon as they were back through the gates and on Earth, Aziraphale rounded on him. "How did you do that? She tested you!"

Crowley held up a small vial. "Holy water. I took a sip before we went. Just enough to coat the essence. Works like a charm."

"That's dangerous! Did you at least dilute it?"

"Of course. With whisky. It was your whisky, by the way. Very smooth."

Aziraphale stared at him, then burst out laughing. "You're insane. Absolutely insane."

"But you love it."

"I... tolerate it."

"Same thing." Crowley grinned. "So, feedback session over. I think it went well."

"You think?" Aziraphale shook his head. "You implied Gabriel played golf during a crucial moment. That's not going to win us any favors."

"You think I was lying?"

"What?"

Crowley winked. "Let's just say I have my sources. That golf tournament was real. Gabriel's been covering it up for centuries."

Aziraphale's jaw dropped. "How do you know that?"

"I'm a demon. We keep tabs on the competition. That little tidbit is worth its weight in favors."

"So you blackmailed him?"

"I planted a seed. He'll think twice before coming after you again."

Aziraphale sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. "You know, for a demon, you're remarkably helpful."

"Don't let it get around. I have a reputation to maintain."

They walked back to the bookshop, the weight of Heaven lifted, at least for now. Crowley's disguise slowly dissolved back into his usual dark attire. As they reached the door, Aziraphale paused.

"Thank you, Crowley. For coming with me."

Crowley shrugged, but there was warmth in his eyes. "Anytime, angel. Anytime."