Disclaimer: Good Omens and its characters are not mine. (Big surprise)
Author's Note: I always seem to start my stories with a 'What If?' scenario. Here's another one of them. I have a general idea of where this story will go, but I always tend to surprise

myself. Updates for this may take much longer than my usual 2 or 3 days between chapters, seeing that I have busy tymes aheade.

FOR A FAVOR RETURNED
Chapter 1: "This Morning"

Aziraphale slowly opened his eyes to the soft rays of sunlight streaming into his room. White curtains fluttered gracefully , as if a dream tugging at the corners of his mind. He blinked sleepily, sighing in content as he snuggled closer to this great comforting warmth next to him. The blue walls and bright ceiling above him made him feel as if he was in heaven, soothing him in its protective embrace. Great white sheets, soft as feathers enveloped his body and this warmth he couldn't ignore.

Aziraphale closed his eyes happily, it was all so wonderful, the angel thought. So, so wonderful.

And wrong.

The angel's eyes flew open as he sat up with a start.

This was wrong.

He did not sleep. He did not even remember going to sleep. He did not know this bed, this room.

"Whats wrong love?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened in shock, as he turned to realize it was a man right next to him. He watched in speechless horror as the man lazily draped an arm across his waist. It was then that Aziraphale realized that he was naked. He swallowed hard, utterly confused and afraid, unable to make any sense of anything before him.

The room was painted a light sky blue, littered with sparse white wicker furniture; some chairs and a table, a token vanity and wardrobe. One corner was covered with luggage and clothing he could only assume was his and his companion's. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, like no day he's ever seen in London. The large windows welcomed a breeze smelling of salt and sea. At the far end facing the bed was a mirror, and the face staring back at the angel was not his. Much too young, much too thin to be the body he's known for the better half of this century.

Aziraphale's spectacularly stunned mind would not allow him to form any words, nor would let him move away from the human next to him.

"Love? You look so scared," the man said, sitting up to face Aziraphale.

The angel's eyes swivelled slowly to meet the other's viridian gaze, fighting down every urge to bolt.

The man was handsome, his insane mind insisted; dark hair made light by spending too many days under the sun fell upon eyes that were studying him intently. They peered at him from skin tanned to the color of mocha.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked with wide concerned eyes.

Aziraphale stared at him, finally finding his voice. "A bad dream?" he repeated feebly, feeling the insanity of the moment; how calm and wonderful everything was around him, how much in contrast to the thunderous thumping of his human heart. His voice almost trembled with barely contained hysteria.

The brunette gingerly swept away the angel's hair with a hand and kissed him adoringly. He smiled as he pulled away, thinking his companion's wide-eyed silence as proof of his theory, "Told you to lay off those prinjolatas last night, didn't I?"

Aziraphale could only stare at him, fists clenched on his lap. He couldn't decide which was crazier; the fact that this stranger has just kissed him, or the fact that he had no idea where he is, who he's with and why he's here. He watched, with mad detachment as the man kissed him once more - on the cheek this time - and got up to dress. He looked away, blushing, and only glanced back as a cellphone began ringing. The guy fished about under the pile of clothing for a moment, finally finding the device and flipped it on to answer.

"Yeah? Paulo here."

Aziraphale turned away, as his companion leaned out one the windows to get better reception. He hurriedly got up, but not before trying to miracle on some underpants beneath the sheets. Nothing happened. It certainly only added to the angel's panic. What was happening to him? He couldn't have been discorporated without his knowledge, could he? That was rather impossible.

In the background, Aziraphale could hear snippets of the guy's - Paulo's - conversation, as he desperately tried to distinguish which clothes on the floor were his.

- "Yep, yeah. We'll be snorkelling later today." -

It couldn't be too hard, right? Aziraphale thought, his hands trembling. He clutched the sheet he was wrapped in with a death grip as he scanned through the luggage.

- "Ahaha, yeah. I'll see. You know how Ozzie is. Jumping off a bridge will be a tall order for him." -

Ozzie? Was that his name? The angel grabbed at the nearest bag tag and read the messy script: Oswald A. Keen. He opened the luggage attached to it hurriedly and pulled on the first pair of boxers he saw.

- "He's fine. A bit jittery this morning though, maybe didn't sleep too well." - Paulo watched in silent amusement as his companion dug ravenously through his luggage, like an all-too-eager kid opening a Christmas present. "Hmm? Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec -"

Aziraphale almost jumped out of his skin when Paulo gave him a pat on the shoulder. He looked up wonderingly, clutching a rumpled white shirt to his chest.

"Hey Oz, Chaz wants to talk to you."

The cellphone was thrust to his face and all the angel could do was accept it in barely contained panic. Paulo seemed to think nothing of this and walked off to the direction of the bathroom. Aziraphale stared at the device, not knowing what to do, and raised it apprehensively to his ear.

"H- hallo?" There was silence on the other line, and Aziraphale could not decide which was the better option; feign a heart attack - which he was sure he was just a few minutes away from anyway - or pretend to be Oz. The angel took a deep breath and chose self-preservation. "Hallo, er, Chaz?"

"Aziraphale. How are you?"

The angel jumped to his feet, a faint hope suffusing all confusion. The voice on the line called him by name. His real name. "I- I'm -" he stammered, "Wait, who is this?"

"It is good to find you well, Aziraphale."

"Well?" the chuckle that escaped the angelic lips bordered on sarcasm, "Well?! I am not well. I am not in my body!"

"Keep your voice down, Aziraphale. The human might overhear." The deep otherworldly voice hinted faintly at amusement.

"Then what the hell has happened to me?!" Aziraphale hissed into the phone.

"Or what in heaven." A faint laugh, "I apologize that I had to... re-assign you to a new body in such short notice. I'm afraid, it really is for your own safety."

Aziraphale could barely hold back the screams he felt were working their way up his throat. "What?! My safety?!"

"Oz, you alright?"

The angel, turned to the direction of the voice, and saw Paulo peering out the bathroom door. He waved him away hurriedly, "I'm okay, dear boy. Perfectly fine." Then turned back to the phone, whispering frantically, "My safety?"

"Yes, Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate." The voice laughed with real mirth, "I'm afraid so. Something is after you, something quite dangerous, and ugly and rather smelly if you ask me. This was really the only way to protect you."

"I do not understand," Aziraphale whispered into the cellphone, "My safety? I didn't know I was in any trouble to begin with."

"Aziraphale," the voice said patiently, "I assure you. Hadn't it been of paramount urgency last night, you would still be in your bookshop right now, none-the-wiser."

"Then why -"

"Patience, Aziraphale. I know you've got more of it, seeing that you use so much of it for the demon."

That gave the angel pause, pursing his lips together like a child being tutted over by an overly-patient mother.

"Speaking of whom, is quite energetically looking for you right now." The voice laughed good-naturedly, as if it had all the time in the world.

As a matter of fact, it did.

"Crowley?"

"Yes, I suppose you can thank him for your present situation. He was kind enough to give us a heads up."

"A heads up."

"Indeed. Anyway, you are to remain incognito until the crisis has been neutralized."

Aziraphale's vice grip on the phone could have crushed the plastic casing, had he been other than human at the moment. "Neutralized." He repeated, dazed.

"Yes. The demon Crowley is working on it as we speak. I'm sure you understand without saying that nobody must find out you're an angel. It should be easy enough, since that you've been playing human the last four thousand years."

"Er... yes." Aziraphale croaked, not knowing how to play human at all - aside from collecting books, eating well, debating the dichotomy of good and evil (with a demon - which really wasn't very human at all), and occasionally getting a manicure.

The voice continued, "It's unfortunately the best we can do at moment. You're quite stuck on Earth, I'm afraid. However, you're virtually invisible to Hell as long as you're human."

"Right." The angel - human - said carefully.

"Just don't get yourself killed. That would be terrible. I may not be able to bring you back entirely." The voice said quickly and nonchalantly, hoping not to alarm the angel.

Aziraphale gasped, horrified. "You mean, I might die?! For real?"

"Might, is the operative term. I'm not too sure. I haven't had to turn an angel, human, in a long long time. Or well ever." There was a nervous chuckle, "But I can certainly turn you back - as soon as you're safe, of course." The Voice hastily added.

"Then... then I'd better not leave this room at all!"

"Your companion wouldn't like that." The Voice pointed out.

"Paulo will have to be very understanding now, wouldn't he?" Aziraphale said hysterically.

There was the slightest pause, as if whoever on the other line was thinking for a moment; "Nope. No. Paulo is only somewhat understanding. He usually gets his way you know."

Aziraphale, incredulous, gestured wildly towards the closed bathroom door. "Then, WHY, pray-tell, am I stuck with him?!"

"Because I work in wondrous and mysterious ways. Duh."

The angel suddenly stood still, realization hitting him only now. His eyes wide, and mouth agape, he barely was able to form the word on his tongue, "G- God?"

"Yes, Aziraphale."

"I'm - I'm sorry Sir. For, shouting and - and", he squawked.

God laughed heartily, "Aziraphale," He said patiently, "Listen well. I will be granting you only one miracle a day. Just for the direst of emergencies, do you understand? The use of firmament may give away your position."

"Y-yes sir."

"Good. I will be in touch."

There was the slightest of shifts in reality, like gusts of wind suddenly changing course and settling over you in a cocoon. Aziraphale swallowed, and the sound on the other end told him the line to Him was gone. He carefully flipped close the cellphone and stared out to the brilliant blue skies outside. His heart was still hammering away, the insanity and hysteria from minutes ago replaced entirely with doubt and anxiety. At least, he told himself, at least he wasn't completely clueless anymore.

Aziraphale calmly slipped into the crumpled white shirt he'd been clutching the whole time, one hand still unwilling to let go of the device - his mind latching onto the smallest sense of security the thing gave to him, God will be in touch, he firmly told himself. He walked slowly to the vanity, watching his unfamiliar reflection approach, studying himself, absently memorizing the new features. Aziraphale was deep in thought; I will be alright, he told himself.

Paulo emerged from the bath, fresh from a shower, and found his companion staring at the mirror. He felt something was deeply wrong with Oz, but could find no explanation for it. He looked no different from the time he'd closed his eyes last night with Ozzie in his arms. Concerned, Paulo walked up to Aziraphale's back, and embraced him, laying down his head on one lean shoulder.

He did not notice Aziraphale's unfocused gaze, eyes gleaming with forced concentration somewhere deep in his mind. He couldnt not imagine 'actual death', he could not imagine the absolute mortality placed before him. How can humans live like this? Knowing you can die anytime, anywhere, for keeps. Leaving everything behind; your things, your home.

Your love.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling the warm embrace around him, giving him uneasy comfort.

"Everything will be alright, love." Paulo said, in his ear. "I promise you, everything will be alright."