A/N: I love the concept of Reverse AUs, so I decided to try my hand at a crossover between the "original" ineffable husbands and their corresponding pair from another universe. All credit for the Reverse Azirafell and Anthony designs and base personalities goes to Speremint ( )-; I adore her Reverse AU and wanted to try my hand at writing something with it. Go check out her page for fanart and original comics!


Antithesis

Part 1

Azirafell stepped out of the taxicab and slammed the door shut behind him, snapping his fingers to miracle a few dollars into the driver's hand. The demon didn't feel like exchanging final pleasantries; while he'd been able to shut his eyes, it hadn't been much of a rest, as the ride had been unnecessarily bumpy and left him in a slightly sour mood. All he wanted to do was go to his pawnshop and pour over the latest collection of knickknacks he'd picked up.

So, it was with great shock that once the taxi sped off and Azirafell turned around, he found an old, dingy bookstore standing in the space where his pawnshop should be. The demon blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. Sure enough, the bookshop remained- a place that looked dusty, warm, and unbearably homey. This must be part of some elaborate prank, the demon thought with noise of disgust, though Azirafell had no idea who would dare try such a thing on him.

"Alright, what the heaven happened to my shop?!" the demon exclaimed, slamming open the old wooden doors. It was just a he feared- rows upon rows of dusty, filled-to-the-brim bookshelves. Azirafell's lip curled into a scowl as he stalked further into the room, trying to find the cause of his beloved shop's upheaval.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale the angel had been carefully restoring an ancient book when the slammed door caused him to jerk in surprise and tear a hole right through the page he was working on. He sucked in a breath, trying to control his swiftly rising temper, and henceforth missed the loud declaration from the intruder. Aziraphale carefully set his tools down and stood, adjusting his waistcoat in preparation for meeting his uninvited guest. He took a few seconds before leaving the back room to see if he could sense any supernatural presence- sure enough, the unmistakable tingle of demonic energy filled the air around him.

The angel frowned. Crowley often came over unannounced, and while he usually entered dramatically- as "dramatic" was the demon's default setting-, he'd never slammed the doors like that before. With a twinge of fear, Aziraphale wondered if something bad happened- had Hell gotten over their fear of the demon who could (supposedly) survive holy water and come to destroy him once and for all?

"My dear?!" Aziraphale called, rushing out into the main room, looking around frantically. "Are you alri-"

The angel sharply cut off his words as he rounded a corner and came across the demon- at least, the creature's aura certainly identified it as a demon. The face, however…

"Um… what's going on?" said the other version of Aziraphale, and the angel frowned, noting the double pupils and, more concerningly-

"My goodness, whatever are you wearing?!" Aziraphale blurted out before he could stop himself. He clapped a hand over his mouth, knowing this to be the least of his worries, but he couldn't help it. He prided himself on his fashion, as outdated as it was, and to see himself in a coat of deep teal, black, and white in lord knows what sort of pattern caused an involuntary reaction of horror.

"What am I wearing?!" the mirror image said, lips twisting in a sneer unbecoming on such a face. "What in Satan's name are you wearing?! You look like you stepped out of a Victorian catalogue! It's the twenty-first century!"

"Excuse you, this outfit is considered 'vintage,' which I've been told is all the rage now!" Aziraphale pursed his lips, unable to stop himself from verbally lashing back. If Crowley saw him now, he would be astounded. But, the demon before him was not Crowley, and therein lied part of the problem. Aziraphale shook his head briskly, clearing away the thoughts of fashion choices in favor of more pressing matters.

"This shouldn't be our concern right now," he said, voice returning to a calm, reassuring lilt. The mirror version of himself flinched at this, as if physically pained by the angel's demeanor. "Let's try this again- I am Aziraphale, an angel, and this is my bookshop. And you are?"

"Azirafell," the other version said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "A demon, and this is supposed to be my pawnshop."

"…Right," the angel said, resisting the urge to comment on the demon's on-the-nose choice of name. He knew Crowley would certainly mention it if he were there. "Well, I regret to inform you, but this building has never been a pawnshop; I've owned this bookstore for well over two centuries."

"Same amount of time as my own establishment," Fell said, one eyebrow raised. "I have a feeling that one of us isn't where they're supposed to be… and that would probably be me." The demon let out a huff of air and rolled his eyes. "Typical. Nothing is every easy, is it?"

"Indeed," Aziraphale said, thinking of how to get this unnerving version of himself out of his bookshop as soon as possible. He certainly couldn't contact Heaven- not that he ever would, seeing as he was on his own side now-, and Hell was surely out of the question. So, really, the only option was-

"Anthony!" Fell suddenly exclaimed, startling the angel. The demon frowned, staring at the floor in contemplation. "I wonder if he ended up here, too…"

"Your Crowley?" Aziraphale ventured, and the demon met his gaze with a nod. Aziraphale smiled. "Well, it seems we're both of the same mindset, at least somewhat. I was going to suggest we call my Crowley and see if he'd have any idea of how to sort this out, seeing as demons are more of his thing…"

Aziraphale trailed off with a vague hand gesture and Fell sighed again, flopping onto a nearby couch with a weary wave of his hand.

"Fine, sounds like as good a plan as any," he responded. Aziraphale beamed at him even more and the demon wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, will you wipe that stupid grin off your face? It's unnerving."

"I could say the same about your constant scowl," Aziraphale muttered tetchily, not liking when he was told not to smile. However, he knew arguing further was a lost cause, so he ignored the demon's scoff and went over to the phone. He dialed Crowley's home number first, figuring that he would try his cell if he didn't answer.

"Hey, Aziraphale," Crowley answered on the second ring, and the angel frowned. Crowley didn't usually greet him by name.

"Hello, my dear. Um, I'm not quite sure how to explain this, but I seem to be having a sort of… situation at my bookshop." Aziraphale glanced at the demon still lounging on the couch. Though Fell faced away from him and was seemingly focused on examining his nails, the angel was certain he was listening carefully to everything he said.

"Let me take a wild guess," Crowley said, and Aziraphale heard a twinge of strain in his voice. "Another you showed up at your place and nearly took your head off?"

"Er, well, I wouldn't say he 'nearly took my head off…'" Aziraphale frowned, noticing that the demon on his couch had perked up and was now watching him, fully focused on the conversation. "But yes, there is another version of myself here. Well, sort of. He's…"

"Guessing again- he's a demon?"

"Yes, actually." Aziraphale's frown deepened and then he jumped suddenly as Fell appeared at his side and snatched the phone away.

"Crowley, right?" the demon said, sticking out an arm out to physically hold Aziraphale away from grabbing the phone back. There was a beat of silence on the other end, before Crowley responded, slowly:

"…Who's this?"

"Oh, it's Lord Beelzebub, just dropping in on the call to say hello," Fell responded with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Who do you think it is?! It's another version of your angel- and I'm guessing you have my angel in your apartment right now?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Crowley said, and Fell smirked at how utterly taken aback he sounded.

"Okay, good. Well, not really good, but at least we're in the same boat. Now- hey!"

The ever-smoldering fire in Fell's eyes flashed as Aziraphale snapped his fingers and miracled the phone back into his hand. The angel smiled triumphantly and quickly said into the mouthpiece:

"Crowley, dear, it's me- listen, I think it'd be best if you and Anthony meet us at the bookshop so we can sort out this whole mess as soon as possible. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Crowley responded. He paused, then said, softly, "Be careful, Angel, alright?"

"Of course, of course." Aziraphale waved his hand to brush away Crowley's concerns. "I'll be perfectly fine; just please get here as fast as you can."

"Will do; see you soon."

With a click, Crowley hung up the phone. Aziraphale did likewise and then focused his attention back to the demon in his bookshop, who currently stood with his arms crossed and a mildly annoyed expression etched across his face. Aziraphale cleared his throat and tried another smile, which was met with another curl of the demon's lip.

"Right, well, Crowley and Anthony are on their way," Aziraphale said. "Knowing Crowley's driving, I'm sure they'll be here soon, but… care for a spot of tea while we wait?"


Approximately thirty minutes before Crowley's phone rang, he was tending to his plants. The large fern by the window looked particularly scrawny, and Crowley was giving it a stern lecture when an overwhelmingly angelic presence appeared out of nowhere, almost knocking him to the ground with the sheer force of it. The demon steadied himself and gripped the plant mister tighter in his hand; he'd used it as a weapon once, and he'd use it again if need be (though he doubted tap water would have much effect on an angel save for making it angry at being spritzed).

Crowley cautiously stalked towards his front door, plant mister held out in front of him like a gun, wondering what any angel other than Aziraphale could want with him. And this angel was definitely not Aziraphale. Crowley was extremely familiar with the soft vibe that hid Aziraphale's true nature as a Principality; his angel gave off a sense of warmth and comfort, unlike the presence Crowley felt now that gave off an aura of cold power. Whoever this new company was, they meant business.

The doorknob jiggled a bit as Crowley stopped dead center in the middle of the room, ready to attack. He wondered half-heartedly if he should call Aziraphale and let him know that something was about to go down, but he knew that any distraction could mean his instant discorporation. Because he and Aziraphale were now on their own sides, Crowley wasn't sure they would get another chance at returning to earth with human bodies. So, he decided to face the potential threat head-on and hope for the best.

"Who's there?" he called loudly, putting a demonically threatening undertone into his voice. Crowley sensed the presence on the other side of the door still for a moment, before a shockingly familiar voice responded:

"I should be asking you the same question, demon."

Crowley blinked, plant mister lowering a millimeter as he struggled to understand why his own voice had responded. There was a gentle sigh on the other end of the door and another half-hearted shake of the doorknob.

"Listen, we can make this easy, or we can make this difficult- your choice," the voice said, and though its tone was calm Crowley knew the presence wasn't playing around. Still in a fighting stance, ready for an altercation, Crowley snapped his fingers and miracled the multiple locks on the front door open. Slowly, the door swung inwards to reveal the last person the demon expected to see.

"…Well," said the other version of himself, dressed in white and pink and brandishing a glowing caduceus staff in front of him. "This is unexpected."