Happy Holidays, Greywolfheir! (Part 4)

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Aziraphale felt himself sinking down further and further. Darkness surrounded him on all sides, and he could not see anything around him. He tried to move his arms and legs, but found that he was completely paralyzed. There were disembodied whispers all around him.
         
What do you think you’re doing? they whispered. Why do you even bother? Why even venture on this hopeless journey? Don’t you know that this is a death mission?
         
Stop it! Aziraphale tried to shout, but could not. I have to. The people. The villagers.
         
They’re all going to die, the whispers returned. You know it, too. The disease will claim them eventually, so why put yourself at risk?
         
It’s my job as a churchman, Aziraphale protested mentally. I have to help people.
         
Ah yes, the whispers had taken on a knowing tone. Your job as a churchman. You are very diligent and dedicated to your duty. It’s a shame that no one else appreciates it.
         
This was like a punch to the gut. Aziraphale thought, You’re wrong.
         
Oh am I? The whispers seemed to have combined into one. Let’s see.
         
All around him, Aziraphale started to see flashbacks of past events.
         
The first one he saw was of Father Martin, looking at him and saying, “...you also had your head in the clouds, or should I say, the books. You sometimes spent so much time with your books that you wouldn’t notice you had a person to talk to unless I or someone else alerted you.”
         
This faded out and was soon replaced by a memory of the messenger looking down at him from a horse. “So you’ve befriended a crook? Seems like...unusual behavior for a churchman, wouldn’t you say?”
         
A third memory came rushing in shortly afterwards. This was of the woman that slammed the door in Aziraphale’s face. She said in an irritated tone, “He was going on about some artifact. What kind of churchman talks about using witchcraft?”
         
See what all these people have said about you? The voice said. The way they criticize your capability? How can you call that anything but ingratitude? When Aziraphale didn’t respond, the voice whispered, And what about that scoundrel you hang out with? The one you call Antonius.
         
The name is Crowley, Aziraphale shot back. And he’s not a scoundrel.
         
Oh, really? That’s what you said, but do you even believe yourself anymore? Just look at these memories and decide for yourself.
         
Aziraphale saw memories of all the trouble Crowley had caused during the time they knew each other. He rewatched all of the times Crowley had stolen from people, either by sneaking into their houses or pick-pocketing them while they weren't paying attention. He relived the moment when Crowley pulled out the dead mouse and showed it to him. He watched the way the he stood before the messenger and boldly said, “My name is Antonius Crowley, more commonly known as Crowley, as well as ‘serpent’ to others.”
         
See all of this? The voice said. Crowley cares for no one. He is only using you for his own personal gain. He knows that as long as he hangs around you, he won’t get severely punished, so he takes advantage of it. He doesn’t care about you at all. He’s sitting on the bank of the river right now, not even caring about the fact that you could be dying.
         
No, Aziraphale thought weakly, struggling to stay afloat in his mind. That’s not true. It can’t be.
         
Unfortunately, it is, the voice said, and this time it sounded almost sympathetic. Like we said earlier, this quest is hopeless. You’re only going to bring more pain onto yourself by persisting. But if you stay here, you won’t have to suffer anymore. Stay with us, Adrian.
         
Stay, Aziraphale whispered, and he started to feel himself lose consciousness.
         
All of a sudden, he could hear Crowley’s voice. Come on angel. Stay with me.
         
Crowley? Aziraphale thought weakly.

He thought it was another trick, but the voice said confusedly, Huh? What the...?

I need you to be strong. Stay with me.
         
How is this possible? The voice said, sounding incredulous. He shouldn’t...he can’t…
         
With the voice’s decrease in grip, Aziraphale was able to regain control and choose his own memories to watch.
         
The first one was of Crowley promising to Aziraphale that he would try to stay out of trouble. The way he sighed and said, "Yeah, I suppose I can try. No promises, though.” He saw the way he talked to the children in the prairie, and how he seemed to genuinely care about what they had to say. The way he looked at him and asked him about what was bothering him.
         
What am I thinking, Aziraphale thought, trying to mentally project this as hard as he could. I can’t stay down here. All of those people depend on me, and I won’t let them down.

Aziraphale began to fight off the unconsciousness that was getting a grip on him. Slowly his mind began to sharpen, and he could feel himself regaining control.
         
What are you doing? The voice asked urgently. Stay down.
         
Thanks, but no thanks, Aziraphale thought back. I don’t need you seducing me with your sugared lies or your promises of painless ends. I’m going to go back to do my job AND to stand by Crowley, not just as a colleague, but as a friend.
         
Aziraphale was now fully conscious and began trying to move. It was hard to get his limbs to cooperate, but slowly, he regained use of them as well. He then reached out his arms and pushed against the force that was dragging him down. The weight became heavier, and the voices around him started to get louder. But none of that bothered him. He kept pushing more and more, not giving up or slowing down.

         
Crowley was cutting away at the plants. Every time he thought that he was almost finished, he would find another large clump underneath. He was beginning to wonder if this would ever end when the plants suddenly started slackening their grip on Aziraphale. It got easier to rip them away, and eventually Crowley decided to quit using his sword and just rip the plants away with his hands. Regrowth of plants became slower and slower until it eventually stopped, and it wasn’t long before most of them were torn away. Carefully, he reached his arms under Azirphale’s back and hugged him close to his chest. He then kneeled down and shot straight upward, breaking through the river surface.

Upon doing so, he took a large gasp of desperately needed air. His chest was on fire and he felt lightheaded. However, he knew that he had to get back to land, as Aziraphale needed him to. Using his sword as a support as well as to cut at plants, he struggled the last half of the way across the river, making sure to keep a tight grip on Aziraphale.

Eventually they reached the shore, and Crowley set Aziraphale on the land before climbing out, safely out of the reach from the plants. He sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths of air and trying to recompose himself. Once he no longer felt as nauseous, he hurried over to Aziraphale, and saw that he was still unconscious.
         
Crowley grabbed his face in his hand. “Come on, angel. Don’t die on me now,” he said, voice filled with panic. “Stay with me.”
         
Aziraphale opened his eyes and started coughing, causing Crowley to back up a little. He rolled over onto his stomach and coughed the water out of his lungs, taking large gasps of air in between. Once he finished, he rolled over onto his back, still breathing heavily.
         
When Crowley saw that Aziraphale had made it, he crawled over and asked in a concerned tone. “How are you feeling, angel?”
         
Aziraphale took a few breaths to steady himself. “I’m alright, Crowley. I just need a moment to recompose.”
         
“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, inspecting him. “You were under for a long time, and I was practically carrying you back to shore.”
         
Aziraphale was about to say that Crowley was being ridiculous but then held himself back. He remembered how while in the darkness, he was able to hear Crowley calling out to him, and how worried he sounded. He also realized that Crowley probably spent the last couple of minutes worrying frantically about him and wondering whether he was going to survive.
         
Instead of snapping, Aziraphale placed a reassuring hand on Crowley’s shoulder and said, “I know you’re worried, but trust me when I say that I’m fine. I really am.”
         
Crowley seemed to visibly relax hearing this, and said, “So do you want to rest a bit more, angel, or should we keep on going?”
         
“I think we should keep on going. I’d rather not stay around here any longer than necessary, and the mountain is just that way.” He pointed towards the way they were headed, and a tall mountain could be seen in the distance.
         
Crowley shrugged and said, “Your call, angel. Let’s go.”
         
The two of them stood up and continued walking in the direction of the mountain. Despite Aziraphale insisting that he was okay, Crowley still kept an eye on him in order to make sure he didn’t pass out. They walked over a little more grassy ground and, to both of their reliefs, none of the plants tried to lash out at them.
         
Soon they abandoned the grassy plain and found themselves standing at the entrance to a large valley. The valley was surrounded on both sides by tall hills and rocky cliffs. The mountain could be seen at the exit point. The grass was luscious and green, and some other plants were growing as well, including some healthy looking bushes and trees. The atmosphere was relaxing, and the valley seemed like the kind of place that was ideal for a hike.
         
“Well this looks nice,” Crowley commented, looking around.
         
“Yeah,” Aziraphale agreed. “It would be a nice place to explore. The kids would love it.”
         
Even though they said this, they weren’t completely at ease. After the previous ordeals that the two had faced, they knew better than to relax. They looked at each other and seemed to reach the same conclusion. Then they entered the valley and began the long trek to the mountain in the distance.
         
Learning from their mistakes, the two of them took care to observe their surroundings. The ground was carefully felt in order to make sure there wasn’t some secret road map or a trap waiting to be activated. Every plant they passed was scrutinized so as to ensure that they were ordinary plants. It got to the point that they were watching the ground more than what was in front of them. If the valley wasn’t so spacious, they would’ve bumped into something.
         
Eventually, Aziraphale said, “That’s odd.”
         
“What?” Crowley looked up, wondering if Aziraphale had found something.
         
“This valley,” Aziraphale said, “Is abnormally...normal.”
         
Crowley scoffed, “And you’re saying this why? Don’t tell me you actually want something weird to happen.”
         
“Not at all. It’s just that I would’ve thought something would pop up. Just like before.”
         
“Well keep your eyes peeled. That just might happen.”
         
The two of them continued walking forward, already starting to relax a little despite their earlier resolve. So far nothing weird had happened, and they were beginning to chalk up their earlier reaction to paranoia. As they walked on, Aziraphale occasionally fanned himself with his shirt. This didn’t bother Crowley, until the occasional fanning became a near constant action.
         
When he couldn’t take it anymore, Crowley turned to him. “Is there a reason that you keep fanning your shirt like that, angel?”
         
“I’m doing it because it’s fun.” Crowley looked at him, and he said. “No but in all seriousness, doesn’t the air feel humid to you? I feel really warm.”
         
“No, nothing’s wrong,” Crowley said, ignoring the increasing feeling of warmth on the surface of his skin. “It’s probably just the sun. We’ve been out here a long time.”
         
“Yeah, you’re right,” Aziraphale said. “We should probably hurry up so we can find a cooler place to rest.”
         
With that, the two of them picked up the pace a bit. They were nearing the halfway mark of the valley, and the sun didn’t seem as overbearing anymore. Unfortunately, the brief moment of coolness didn’t last long, and the warmth returned. This time however, rather than staying level, it increased in intensity, evolving into a scorching heat. By this point, their faces were becoming beaded with sweat, and Aziraphale’s fanning did little more than make noise.
         
It wasn’t long before Aziraphale turned and said, “Okay, this is not just the sun.”
         
“You think?” Crowley said, batting at his arm. “I feel like I’m on fire.”
         
“Same,” Aziraphale said. “Man, if only we were near the river. Then we could just hop into the water and not have to deal with this.”
         
“Then we’d get grabbed by the killer plants. No, sir. There’s got to be another way.”
         
“What, then?”
         
“I don’t know. Improvise!”
         
Aziraphale and Crowley started trying different things, hoping to find a solution. They batted at their arms, blew on their hands, and jumped up and down. When none of them produced results, they resorted to running around in circles, hoping that the heat would go away.
         
Running around left them winded, and they stopped to take a breath. When they stopped, the heat came back with a new force, and for a second they believed that they actually were on fire. When they looked down, they clearly saw that that wasn’t the case.

Aziraphale turned and snapped, “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley said, putting his hands to his head. After a while, he removed them and said, “Wait, when we started walking faster, the burning leveled off, didn’t it?” Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley said, “And while we were running, it was almost completely nonexistent, right?” Another nod. “So maybe if we just keep moving, then we won’t feel anything, and we’ll be able to get out just fine.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan,” Aziraphale said, abandoning the idea of reasonableness. “But the end of the valley is all the way up there.”

Crowley turned to him and a look passed between them. Then they took off and started sprinting uphill. Immediately they felt the difference, as now all they could feel was a slight discomfort, which was easily ignorable. They continued putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring their aching muscles. Their old mantra of ‘check everything’ was forgotten, and the scenery zoomed past them in a blur. The end of the valley got closer and closer and Aziraphale was thinking about how this was going to work out when he tripped over a root and fell hard.

“Angel,” Crowley exclaimed, rushing back to meet him. “Are you okay?” He stood next to him, making sure to run in place.

Aziraphale didn’t respond, not because he didn’t hear him, but because he couldn’t. As soon as he hit the ground, he learned about the unforeseen downside to their seemingly flawless plan. Not only was he struck with the force of falling to the ground, but also of all the searing pain that he managed to temporarily keep at bay. The heat that tormented them previously had now disappeared in order to be replaced with absolute agony. It felt like every single cell in his body was aflame, as if someone had cut him up and set him on fire before putting the flames out with acid. He was unable to get up or move at all, and couldn’t find the air to scream. It took all of his effort to stay focused on his surroundings, and he could barely make out Crowley trying to wake him up, muttering in a panicked tone.
         
Crowley, Aziraphale barely managed to think. Help…Crowley…pain…stop…
         
His vision began to go dark, and just when he was beginning to lose consciousness, everything stopped. The burning pain faded out, and he regained complete clarity of mind. Even the soreness in his legs that he got from travelling so much was completely erased. He was also no longer hungry or thirsty, despite not having consumed anything since Aldreda’s cottage. He wriggled his fingers and toes, and when they moved, he slowly stood up, not wanting to fall over. Upon getting up, he saw Crowley, who was evidently still struggling with the dilemma.
         
“Angel, you’re okay?” Crowley asked, extremely stunned. He was running in place. “From the look of it, I thought you had died. What happened? How are you okay?”

Aziraphale grimaced inwardly as he remembered what he had to do, and how Crowley was going to react when he learned. He stepped forward and said cautiously, “Crowley, I’ll tell you. But first, you need to stand still.”
         
“What? No way,” Crowley protested. “You looked like you were on the edge of dying. As long as I keep moving, the pain is less severe. Besides, we don’t have much longer to go.”
         
“I mean it, Crowley,” Aziraphale insisted. “You need to be still.”
         
“No! I’m not dancing with death, angel.”
         
A look of sorrow passed across Aziraphale’s face. He knew this would be difficult for the both of them, but if his prediction was right, it would be necessary in the end. He stepped forward and said, “Crowley, dear, I’m so sorry for what I am about to do.”
         
“What are you talking -?”
         
Crowley didn’t get any farther before Aziraphale charged at him as fast as he could and, bracing himself, knocked him to the ground. He tried to scramble away on all four, but Aziraphale leaped on top of him and, after some effort, pinned him to the ground, sitting on his torso with a knee on each side.

“Get off! Get off of me, angel,” Crowley screamed, doing his best to kick and hit Aziraphale. “The pain - it’s back - it’s getting worse. Get off!”
         
Aziraphale pinned his wrists down, although it was tiring, and did his best to ignore the kicking. Seeing his friend suffer so much made his heart ache, but all he said was, “I know it hurts. It’s going to. But it is necessary.”
         
Crowley ignored what he said, kicking and screaming incoherently. This continued on for some time until he eventually began to taper off; it got to the point where he just lay there, staring abstractedly out in front of him. Aziraphale knew better than to think that the torment was over, aware that the cease in movement was due to an overload of pain. Sitting there helplessly and watching as his friend lay there, Aziraphale understood how Crowley felt earlier when he feared that he was going to die.
         
No. He wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing. Although he knew this wouldn’t end Crowley’s pain, he hoped that it would at least help him. Grabbing both of his hands in his own, Aziraphale started muttering the prayer Father Martin gave to him. “The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.” While reciting this, Aziraphale gripped his hands tighter, and with tears flowing out of his eyes, he said, “Come on, Crowley. Stay with me. The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.”
         
Aziraphale sat there, repeating the prayer over and over again. Tears spilled out of his eyes, and he was struggling to keep his hands from trembling. Every second that passed by felt like an eternity, and he was beginning to think that Crowley would not be able to pull through. His head drooped downward, and he whispered under his breath, “Please don’t leave me, dear.”
         
Suddenly, Crowley’s eyes refocused. He sucked in a large breath of air, arching his back slightly. Aziraphale climbed off of him, and Crowley sat up, breathing heavily. He took in his surroundings and said incredulously, “Angel, it’s gone. All of it.”
         
Relief flooded Aziraphale’s heart, but he managed to subdue himself. “I know, dear. I know.”

The two of them stood up, and Aziraphale asked, “So are you okay with going on?”

“More than okay,” Crowley said. “After what just happened, I don’t want to even look at this place.”

“Me neither,” Aziraphale said, glaring pointedly at his surroundings. “Me neither.”

They stood up and picked up where they left off earlier, walking toward the mountain. Their skin prickled from the heat of the sun, and their legs became sore again, but none of this bothered them. They kept treading on relentlessly, fearing the possibility of another wave of torture, and eventually reached the end of the valley.

As soon as they exited the valley, the landscape completely changed. The area had a rocky ground and there were large boulders scattered around, a drastic contrast to what they had seen so far. They found a couple of rocks and sat down to rest. They set their bags down and started some small talk.
         
“Can we never get a break?” Crowley asked, sounding annoyed. “It seems that wherever we end up, there’s another death trap waiting for us.”
         
“I understand,” Aziraphale said, not pointing out how they weren’t being killed now. “Remind me to never complain about boredom again.”
         
“Same for me. I’ve had enough excitement in the last couple of hours to last me a lifetime.” Crowley stood up and looked at the mountain. “Well, we better get going. Don’t want to be stuck out here while it’s dark.”

Aziraphale nodded wordlessly. The two of them got up and started off, wanting to get the artifact before nightfall.

The mountain was extremely tall and had varying degrees of steepness. Some of the areas were shallower and easy to climb. Others were a bit steeper, and required more effort. They would pass the occasional rock or bush, but the mountain was otherwise rather barren. Neither of the two said anything, too focused instead on keeping their footing and looking out for any possible traps along the way. No one dared to say that this might be a normal mountain, for as they learned earlier, even the most peaceful looking places can be full of hidden horrors.
         
After climbing for what felt like hours, the ground leveled off until it was completely flat. The level ground was the shape of a large O. Up ahead, the mountain continued sloping upwards, this time at a much steeper incline, until it eventually reached the peak. A cave could be seen in the side of the mountain top, although from where Aziraphale and Crowley were standing, it was too small to make out any details.

The ring shaped flat land in between was quite large. Grass covered the ground, and there were a couple plants here and there. A tree could be seen in the distance to the right of the mountain top. To the left of the mountain top, there was a small creek.
         
Aziraphale stepped toward the creek and said, “I’m going to go there to get some water. You go see if you can find anything we can eat.” With that, he headed off.
         
Crowley opened his bag to look at the bread Aldreda gave him. It was flattened from when he was pushed to the ground, and if not for the tough crust on the outside, the bread would’ve been soggy. Crowley decided that they would only eat it as a last resort, and headed towards the tree to see if it had any fruit.
         
Approaching the tree, he soon realized just how large it was. The branches stuck out in all different directions, and large green leaves sprung from them. He was also able to see some red apples growing on it, all of them looking ripe and ready to eat. He quickened his pace, wanting to get the fruit and return to Aziraphale soon.

No sooner did he pick up the pace than he noticed that there was something under the tree. It was a figure sitting under the tree with its knees drawn to its chest. Crowley stopped for a moment and thought about who it could possibly be. He continued forward and approached the tree cautiously. He couldn’t see the figure’s face, as it was hidden in its legs. When he was only a couple feet away, he leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out any distinctive details. Only a few seconds later, he straightened up and gasped audibly. The figure looked exactly like him.
         
The figure turned its head up looked up at him. Everything about its face was identical to Crowley’s, except that its eyes were pure black. Crowley recoiled in horror, not believing what he saw. The figure slowly stood up before stepping forward in a leisurely manner.
         
“So you made it this far?” The doppelganger said. Its voice was cold and completely void of emotions. “I suppose I should congratulate you, Antonius Crowley.”
         
“How do you know my name?” Crowley asked in an accusing tone, trying to hide the fear that was brewing within.
         
“Don’t act so shocked,” it merely replied. “You should know by now that the rules don’t apply here. Which may explain how you managed to make it so far, given how weak you are.”
         
Crowley started walking backwards slowly, saying, “You’re lying. I know you are.”
         
“Really? I’m the one who’s lying? Look at yourself. You are spineless, weak, and a coward. The fact that you’re still alive is a miracle.”
         
While walking back, Crowley stepped the wrong way and fell down. He hit his hand on a rock, but paid no attention, trying to crawl away. The doppelganger walked forward, picking one of the apples from the tree. It said, “Yes, you should’ve died a long time ago. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of the pity of those around you.”
         
This shook Crowley down to the core, but he said, “I don’t need to listen to this.”
         
He tried to stand, but the doppelganger placed a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. It then shoved the apple into his face and said, “Very well then. If you don’t want to listen to me, then just take a look at this.”
         
The reflection of the apple distorted until it began showing memories. Crowley watched as the tavern owner took in a younger version of himself and, shortly afterward, the tavern regulars decided to keep him around. “Everyone that supported you, everyone that ever stayed by you, was doing it out of pity. They saw how pathetic you were and, seeing their chance, started using you for their own purposes. All of the people in your life view you as a coward: the tavern regulars, the owner, even your own father.”
         
With the last word, more images started materializing in the reflection. “No. No,” Crowley said, trying to look away, not wanting to relive old memories. However, it didn’t work, as the doppelganger pulled out its sword and stuck it under his chin.
         
“Yes,” it said, and a malicious smile appeared on its face. “It’s true, and you know it. Even Adrian Ziraphale, the one you consider a friend, only keeps you around out of pity.”
         
“No, not angel,” Crowley said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He wouldn’t do that.”
         
“Would he?” the doppelganger asked, and it dug the blade in deeper. Crowley bit his tongue to keep from crying out, and watched as the reflection of the apple changed again. This time, it showed memories of Aziraphale hanging around Crowley. “The only reason he keeps you around is because you make him look good. Every time he lectures a wrongdoer, his superiors commend him for a job well done. Of course he knows about the dangers of said wrongdoer lashing out, so why does he lecture you not once, not twice, but multiple times over?” It leaned in closer. “Because you’re too weak to do anything to retaliate. You roll your eyes and claim that you probably won’t change, but other than that, you let him walk all over you. You didn’t even have the guts to confront him that day in the village.”
         
Upon saying that, the apple’s reflection shifted again, showing the day that Aziraphale talked to the messenger in front of the whole village. “That is my job as a churchman…keep telling him to stop being so troublesome, as it causes many unnecessary problems...So you’re saying you wish he would just keep his nose out of trouble? Oh, certainly. I would like it very much...”

“You see?” it said, finally pulling the apple away. “He doesn’t care about you. You’re nothing but a nuisance to him. You could disappear right now and he wouldn’t even care.”

The doppelganger sheathed its sword, but Crowley didn’t even realize that it had. He was too busy trying to wrestle down the negative thoughts that were popping up relentlessly. Although he’d had some doubts about how much the tavern regulars actually cared for him, he’d thought that the tavern owner had at least some concern for his well being. To hear the doppelganger say that was not the case left an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. And the images of his father...those were things that he did not need to relive. The crowning moment, however, was when it said that Aziraphale was just using him, and did not care for him at all.

That can’t be true, Crowley thought to himself. After all we’ve been through, he wouldn’t think of me as just a nuisance...would he?

His mind drifted off, and he recalled how Aziraphale had pinned him down in the valley, ignoring his pleas to be released. Another pang shot through him as he thought of how Aziraphale could have sat idly while he was lying there in excruciating pain.

The memories started to become blurry, and Crowley knew that this was when he had almost passed out. Now that he had a clearer mind, he struggled to recall what happened during that cloudy moment. Slowly but surely, bits and pieces started to come back to him. He remembered how Aziraphale grabbed both of his hands and muttered something frantically under his breath. How his hands were trembling slightly and tears streamed down his face. And how, when things started to look hopeless, he desperately asked Crowley to not leave him.

He wasn’t trying to hurt me, Crowley thought. He was trying to help me. The knot in his stomach was starting to loosen, and he made a decision. Straining his mind again, he tried to focus on the memory of Aziraphale muttering to him, and what he was saying.

“The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.” Crowley whispered, the words coming to him.

The doppelganger’s face shifted. “What did you say?”
         
“The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.” Crowley said again, this time louder. He repeated it a third time, his voice rising even more.
         
“That is nonsense,” it said, although sounding worried. “You are spewing lies.”
         
“Trust me,” Crowley said, voice full of his usual snark. “The only one who’s spewing anything around here is you.”
         
With a quick movement, Crowley lifted the doppelganger’s foot and pushed it away as hard as he could. Because it was distracted, it stumbled back a few steps. Crowley rolled away and stood up, making sure to be quick. He unsheathed his sword and, without hesitation, slashed at the doppelganger. It took its sword out with equal speed and blocked the attack. Crowley slashed at it again, and this time it moved slower, getting a deep cut on the shoulder.
         
“Look at you, weakling. Learning to fight now,” it said, although it was clearly only pretending to be tough.
         
Crowley, fueled by adrenaline, continued slashing at it. He was on the offense, aiming for any and all open spaces. All the anger he felt and being looked down on by the villagers, the messengers, the volunteers, and his father came to the forefront, powering him on. The doppelganger struggled to keep him at bay, and it soon became clear that it was all talk and no action. Their swords clashed again, and the two got locked in a standstill. Crowley turned his sword and, with a final push, knocked the doppelganger’s sword out of its hand. He kicked it away before raising his own sword and smashing the hilt against the doppelganger’s head. It crumpled to the ground, and Crowley placed the tip of his sword under its chin.
         
It looked up at him and asked in a biting tone, “So what now? Are you going to kill me?”
         
Much to its surprise, Crowley removed his sword and sheathed it, saying, “No. I won’t, because I’m not like you. I’m not scared of you, either. You’re nothing but a hollow shell, a parasite that feeds on negativity.” He leaned in closer and whispered aggressively, “And for the record, I will not let critics like you dictate my actions. I do my own thing, and nothing that you say will change that.”
         
On that note, Crowley turned around and walked back towards the creek where Aziraphale was. Behind him, he could hear the doppelganger shouting threatening things about how he will die and no one will care, but he blocked it out. It didn’t take long before he encountered Aziraphale, who was walking around.

“Oh, hey Crowley,” he said. “I was looking for you. Where did you go? You’ve been gone for a long time.”

Crowley felt a lump grow in his throat. He knew how Aziraphale would react if he told him what had just happened. He shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and said, “I was checking out the tree. There wasn’t much to see.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked, looking over his shoulder. “But I can see fruit from here.”

Crowley paled, and before he could say anything Aziraphale was walking toward the tree, ready to get the fruits. He rushed to catch up with him and said, “I’m telling you, angel, it’s nothing. We should just go back to the creek and not even bother.”

But Aziraphale could not be stopped. He kept walking determinedly towards the tree. Crowley was afraid that when Aziraphale got there, he would see the doppelganger, or even worse, a doppelganger of his own. Crowley decided that this wasn’t going to happen and rushed past Aziraphale, sword in hand. However, when he reached the tree, he saw that it was not there, which left him feeling both baffled and relieved.

Aziraphale was confused by all of this. “Crowley, dear, put the sword away. We can just pick the fruit.”

“No, angel, it’s not that. It’s something else. There was something else here…”

But Aziraphale was no longer listening, seemingly focused on something else. He stepped forward and ran his finger under Crowley’s chin. He pulled his finger back, inspected the tip, and gasped, “Crowley.”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, sounding nervous. “What is it?”

Aziraphale raised his finger and revealed a smudge of blood. Crowley knew that he knew something had happened. Aziraphale asked in a severe tone, “Were you attacked?” The guilty look gave him away. “Crowley, why didn’t you call for help?”

“I didn’t exactly get much chance to. Besides, I didn’t want you coming over and getting involved. You’ve suffered enough already.”

“I think we both have,” Aziraphale said. He looked over at the cave in the distance. “Hopefully our suffering is about to come to an end.”

“I doubt it,” Crowley said. “But we’ve made it this far. We’ll stick through to the end.”

“You and me,” Aziraphale said. “Through thick and thin.”

Crowley smiled and said, “Can we go back to the creek for a bit? I haven’t drank anything since the soup, and I’m thirsty.”

They walked back the way Aziraphale had come, and Crowley saw the creek. It was small and had clear water. He looked at Aziraphale to ask if the water was safe and, after getting a nod of confirmation, knelt down to drink some. The cool water was refreshing and helped re-energize him. He drank a couple handfuls, savoring every drop.

Once he was finished, he stood up and said,  “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

The two started walking towards the mountaintop, where the cave was located. When they got closer, they saw that the cave was a lot larger than they initially believed it was. They stared down into it, and could only see a few feet ahead. Aziraphale took out his lantern, struck the firesteel against the side of the cave to make a spark, and lit the lantern. They stood there a bit longer, preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

“Well, this is it. The cave with the artifact.” Crowley turned to face Aziraphale. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Aziraphale.

Crowley nodded, and after exchanging a look, the two of them headed into the cave.

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