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go_exchange2018-12-02 05:38 am
Happy Holidays, silverfox! Part 4
Gabriel arrived first the next morning.
He entered the shop at twenty to eight, and he looked pretty hungover. For Gabriel, ‘pretty hungover’ meant that he looked like other people when they just had gotten ready to leave for the opera. He was wearing his suit again, so Aziraphale assumed the hotel had gotten it cleaned for him, but his jacket was unbuttoned and instead of his white shirt, he wore the dark T-shirt he had bought yesterday underneath. He must have attempted to shave, for his beard was gone and his face was covered in little cuts. The grumpy, tired expression on his features very nicely completed the look.
“Good morning,” Aziraphale greeted him without even trying to hide his smile.
“Had a bit of a night yesterday, did we?”
“I forgot human bodies are affected by alcohol,” Gabriel grumbled and flopped down on the sofa. “The boy at the hotel recommended to drink a lot, but the coffee I had didn’t really help.”
“Because coffee dehydrates you, and that actually makes it worse,” Aziraphale told him. “Plain water is better.”
Gabriel only glared at him.
Before Aziraphale could attempt to help him, the bell over the shop door jingled, and he hurried over to the saleroom to see who had entered. Of course, it was Raphael.
Raphael, like Gabriel, always looked like he had been composed out of somebody’s dreams. He was not quite as blindingly impressive as Gabriel was, but you could have filled an entire magazine with photos of him and the whole print would have been sold out within the first few hours after its release.
He wore a soft scruff, and a smile on his thin lips.
“Aziraphale! Good morning!” he cheered. “You look really done!”
“Well, thank you,” Aziraphale replied. “You look very well, though. I somehow suspect our conditions are related to Gabriel’s whereabouts.”
Raphael laughed. He had a happy, honest laugh, and it made you like him, even though his cheerfulness and teasing could become annoying in their own right.
“Where is the grumblebee?” he wanted to know, grinning.
“On the sofa. He’s hungover. Have fun.”
“Wow, Gabriel. Five days on Earth and he’s already a mess.”
Raphael shook his head, smirking, and strolled over to the back room. Gabriel was already on his feet as he entered.
“Well hello, who are you?” Raphael purred. “Had I known Aziraphale had people like you hidden in his back room, I would have visited him far sooner.”
Gabriel smiled the smile of someone who is mildly annoyed, but more than that happy to see the person who annoys them.
“I missed you,” he said and softly pulled Raphael into his arms.
The other Archangel smiled as well and placed his hands on Gabriel’s cheeks. Carefully, he stroked over the cuts, letting them heal.
“Aw, you had a beard?” he asked. “I want to see you with a beard again, it has been ages.”
“Maybe I’ll do you that favour when I’m back Up There,” Gabriel said. “Though I’m not sure yet if I’ll really return there after what you told them where I was. Maternity leave?1 Really, Raphael?”
1This joke belongs to one of my best friends, who helped when I got uncreative, thank you very much :P Their identity will be revealed when I post this fic on AO3 after the Exchange is over!]
Raphael laughed and ran his thumbs over Gabriel’s cheeks. “Sorry,” he giggled. “I couldn’t resist.”
Then he moved his fingers up to Gabriel’s temples, who groaned lowly in fake annoyance. Telling from the relief and relaxation that came over Gabriel’s features, Raphael had also healed his hangover.
When they kissed, Aziraphale looked away and gave them a few moments before he cleared his throat politely.
“Uh, I am ever so sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I’ll have to ask you to spend the day outside of this bookshop. I don’t have enough food in here to keep Gabriel happy until six o’clock, and I don’t want to leave my keys here and everything, so I would like to lock the shop before I go and all, and...”
“And you don’t want us to misuse your sofa,” Raphael assumed. “That’s okay. We’ll find other places to do around the city. In both meanings of the –”
“Yes, thank you very much,” Aziraphale interrupted him. “I gave Gabriel a map, so you shouldn’t get lost. We’ll meet back here at six tonight. And please make sure he has eaten, he will get grumpy otherwise.”
“I am right here and I can hear you,” Gabriel stated.
“Good. Eat something,” Aziraphale said. Then he made a prompting gesture towards the saleroom.
Raphael whispered something to Gabriel as they went, and Gabriel chuckled.
Aziraphale followed them, swallowing his annoyance, and grabbed everything he needed off the counter.
Crowley had, years ago, gotten them both passports, because he’d thought it would make travelling easier these days. Despite neither of them being registered, the passports always worked and no one ever asked any questions. Aziraphale had slipped it into his wallet, along with some Euros he still had lying around somewhere.
It was always good to have them when you lived in Europe. Even when you lived in that one corner of Europe that didn’t actually use them.
Of course, he also took the book with the Transfer Ritual, as well as the name, address, and phone number of the poor woman they had to visit today. They should stop to buy her some sweets or flowers on the way, poor thing. This whole scenario was probably giving her sleepless nights.
Just as Aziraphale grabbed the little travelling bag he had equipped with all the items necessary for the ritual, a car skidded to a halt outside and there was some impatient honking. Sighing, Aziraphale grabbed the keys of his shop and stepped outside, locking the doors.
“You can stop acting like this now, Gabriel has already left,” he told Crowley as he climbed into the passenger seat.
Crowley gave an understanding hum. Then he stared at the bag Aziraphale had placed in his lap.
“Angel,” he said. “What is this?”
“My travelling bag,” Aziraphale replied, a bit confused. “I had to put the book somewhere, and all the items for the ritual that we –”
“Not even the most hardcore hipster,” Crowley interrupted him, “would think this bag deserves to live on, Aziraphale. Please, release it from this world, it has suffered its own existence long enough.”
Aziraphale side-eyed him, but didn’t bother to answer. Some people had their own taste, other people just went with whatever time told them to like.
Crowley shook his head and let the Bentley dart back onto the street. Aziraphale, with practised ease, grabbed for the assist handle.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said while Crowley swung his car around the corner into Wardour Street.
“Yeah? What? Has Gabriel died of food poisoning?”
“No. Though he was drunk yesterday night.”
“And let me guess, you did not record it on video.” Crowley sighed. “Okay, what is it really?”
“Gabriel insisted on having Raphael present at the ritual tonight.”
Crowley frowned, displeased. “I see he trusts me,” he grumbled. “So now I have to deal with two Archangels? Great. Who says they won’t smite me the minute Gabriel is released?”
“They won’t. They rely on you to keep your mouth shut about all of this.”
“As if anyone would believe me when Gabriel and Raphael say something different. And you can’t back me up, you know that. You have to be on their side.”
Aziraphale had to admit that.
“Why would they try and kill you, though?” he asked. “They have no reason to, unless you anger them. And you don’t plan on doing that, do you?”
“Of course I don’t, I’m not insane!” Crowley erupted. “But I will still be trapped in a room with two Archangels, and another angel who can’t act against them officially!”
“My dear, nothing will happen to you,” Aziraphale promised calmly and placed his hand on Crowley’s leg to soothe him. “I will not let Gabriel or Raphael attack you. If necessary, I will refer to the conditions we negotiated and will insist that angels, above everyone else, should be morally obligated to stick to their word. And I will tell them that they should be happy you’re Hell’s field agent on Earth and not someone who is far more vicious than you are, so they should not risk Hell becoming unsatisfied with you. Trust me, nothing will happen to you.”
Crowley grunted.
“I’m with you,” Aziraphale said and increased the pressure of his touch. “And I won’t let anyone harm you.”
He felt Crowley relax a little, even though he still seemed distressed. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him. If he’d had to deal with two demons, he would not have felt very good with it either, and Crowley always panicked a lot more than him.
Aziraphale stroked his leg gently and let go of the oh shit handle (an overly accurate name, he had discovered) with his other hand in favour of activating the car radio with it.
Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you, right until the ends of the Earth, crooned Freddie Mercury.
“Maybe we should stop on our way to the airport and get the poor woman some chocolates,” Aziraphale suggested to lighten up the mood.
“British chocolates? For a woman in Germany? She will stone us with them,” Crowley scoffed.
“Oh. Yes. Then let’s stop on the way to her from the airport. I really think we should bring her something, the poor thing.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get her something alright. An amulet that protects her from vengeful Archangels would maybe be more helpful, though.”
Aziraphale side-eyed him again, but otherwise let it slide. Crowley probably wished for an amulet like that himself for later.
They drove at a breakneck pace, as usual for Crowley, headed for London Heathrow. Normal people surely would have left earlier than eight in the morning when their flight went at twenty to ten. Those people, though, would have needed longer than Crowley and Aziraphale to drive there, and longer than Crowley and Aziraphale to get through all the control stations and onto the plane.
They made themselves comfortable in their First Class seats in time for the flight to go off duly.
“I haven’t been on one of these in a while,” Aziraphale said as he looked out the window.
Crowley, who was leafing through the board menu, hummed. “They advance fast with technical stuff,” he stated.
“They do,” Aziraphale agreed. “Do they still serve tomato juice on flights?”
“As far as I know, yes. Why?”
“I like drinking tomato juice on flights. It’s like popcorn in the movie theatre, it just belongs to the experience.”
“You’re weird, angel.”
“And you still hang out with me.”
There was tomato juice. After roughly 80 minutes, they landed in Cologne, got off the plane, and snaked their way through the control stations. Crowley had rented them a car for the day.
It was no vintage Bentley, but it would do.
“I can’t believe they’re still not done with the cathedral,” he said as they drove out of the parking deck. “They started this what? 700 years ago?”
“Something like that, yes,” Aziraphale replied. “Will you remember to drive on the other side, please, dear?”
“Oh, right,” Crowley acknowledged and yanked the car over to the other lane.
Aziraphale grabbed the assist handle instinctively. “Can we really make it to her place in time?” he wanted to know. “We only have seventeen minutes left.”
“What does the navigation system say how long we need?”
“Uhm, twenty-four minutes.”
“Then we should be there in ten.”
Aziraphale grabbed the handle tighter.
[A/N: This chapter will feature some dialogue that, actually, should be written in German. To not confuse people too much and not having to write this chapter basically twice, I will, this time, forego the translation and write it all in English right away. Maybe I’ll add an extra chapter for it on AO3 when I post it there. For now, please just imagine it to be German.]
The woman that opened the door for them was somewhere in her twenties, and she was short, chubby, blonde, and anxious.
Aziraphale couldn’t blame her. He understood her love for, and interest in, old books; she must have been so excited to find this precious in the hidden chamber. It had been wrong to take it home with her, but even for that, Aziraphale couldn’t blame her. He, probably, would have had a look at it himself first, too, before he would have handed it in. (He would have handed it in. Of course, he would have.)
To try out the ritual had, presumably, been an act of sheer passion and curiosity. Just like those Ouija boards people used. You knew it would end badly for you if it really worked, so you somehow hoped that it wouldn’t, but you still wanted to try it, simply for the kick of it.
Having an actual angel, real and in the flesh, appear on you was certainly not what this poor woman had expected. She probably hadn’t even really believed in angels, not in a way that makes you okay with them just popping up right there in your living room. If something like this happened to you, all you’d want was to make it unhappen. But she couldn’t.
Now, an Archangel, one of the few angels everyone actually knows about, was stuck here on Earth because of her, and it certainly didn’t help you feel good and safe if an Archangel had a reason to be super angry at you. Especially not if you had any idea what angels really were like. They could get more enraged and drastic than you would expect from them, Aziraphale knew that.
And the only way to release said Archangel – in the hopes he would then be appeased and not come back to torment you, or would send you straight to the deepest pits of Hell – was to let two other angels into your house, and believe them when they said they had a solution, and allow them to do another ritual, even though the last ritual you had witnessed had gotten you into this entire mess. Not to mention you had to believe those two men standing in front of your door actually were angels, and not some random creeps. Though, creeps, at least, were actual people, no supernatural entities with unfathomable powers.
So, yes, it was no wonder that poor girl looked absolutely stressed.
Aziraphale tried to make it better by smiling at her and holding out the chocolates he had bought at the airport. He had read somewhere that chocolates made you feel better. This woman definitely needed that.
“Hello, Miss Kleinert,” he said softly. “Thank you so much for having us. May we please come in?”
She studied them suspiciously. Aziraphale tried to smile even friendlier.
“Are you really angels?” she whispered.
“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said. He turned his hand and let a blue light appear on it for a second. “I am so sorry we have to bother you, dear lady. But I am afraid this is the only way to undo Gabriel’s summoning.”
The woman stared at his hand. Then she swallowed and nodded and stepped aside.
“Come in,” she murmured.
“Thank you, so kind,” Aziraphale said. He entered her little flat, Crowley on his heels. He heard how she locked the door behind them.
“My living room is through the second door on the left,” she told them. “I already made space in there.”
Aziraphale smiled at her. “Ah, yes, thank you. Very thoughtful,” he complimented her.
Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and squeezed past Aziraphale in the narrow hallway to enter the living room.
Melanie – which was the woman’s forename – had shoved all furniture aside so that the floor was free. Granted, there was not really too much space, the room was quite small. But it would suffice.
“This really won’t take long,” Aziraphale said as he put down his travelling bag. “I just need a moment to prepare everything, you know how these things go. Then we will quickly perform the ritual and then, my dear lady, you will be free of angels and summonings altogether. Nothing to worry about. It’s really very simple.”
“Your constant reassurance is what will drive this woman insane for good, Aziraphale. Stop babbling and get going, she can’t wait to get rid of us again.”
Now it was on Aziraphale to roll his eyes. “Please excuse him,” he said. “Crowley is rather practical.”
“It’s alright,” Melanie mumbled. “After you've drunk tea with the Archangel Gabriel in your kitchen, you don’t mind much anymore, honestly.”
“Why did Gabriel get tea and we don’t?” asked Crowley.
Melanie looked at him, distraught.
“He is kidding, my dear, he doesn’t actually –”
“Coffee will do as well,” Crowley interrupted him. Aziraphale sighed.
“Of course,” Melanie hurried to say. “I’ll be right back.” Then she left for the kitchen.
“Really, my dear? What are you distressing her so much for?” Aziraphale whispered.
“She’s a mess and would be in the way. Now she has something to do and will leave us alone for the next couple of minutes,” Crowley replied. “Now stop scolding me and get going, angel. We haven’t got all day.”
Aziraphale sighed lowly, but opened his travelling bag. “Make yourself useful and hold this for me,” he ordered and handed Crowley the book. He had marked the Transfer Ritual with a bookmark.
Crowley, who had attempted to make himself comfortable in the armchair, grumbled, but accepted the book and opened it, holding it so that Aziraphale could see it. “Better not make any mistakes, angel,” he said sweetly. “We wouldn’t want another misadventure in this, would we?”
Aziraphale spared him a glare. “I have done this a fair amount of times, thank you very much,” he stated. He got the chalk out of the bag and knelt down onto the floor, beginning to draw two overlapping circles on the parquet.
“Not this particular ritual,” Crowley singsonged. “And there’s always room for error.”
“Do you want something to go wrong?” Aziraphale asked. “Because, if I may remind you, this ritual will also include yourself.”
“No. So be careful with what you’re doing. Are you sure those circles are the right size?”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes and kept on drawing. He chalked an inner circle in both of the circles he had already drawn, then proceeded by very carefully writing the required sigils around them. He triple-checked them before he went along and added some lines into the space between the circles, dividing the writing into several smaller portions. He triple-checked those lines as well.
He could hear Melanie next door, and he could smell the freshly made coffee. He also realised she had shown up in the door at one point, watching him. But he didn’t let that distract him.
Finally, he got up from the floor and wiped the chalk dust off of his fingers.
“Crowley, my dear, would you be so kind as to check if everything is correct?”
“I did while you worked, it’s all fine,” Crowley claimed.
“Still. Let’s check it together one last time, shall we?”
Crowley sighed, but cast an attentive glance over the drawing Aziraphale had produced. Aziraphale did the same. You could never be too careful when working with rituals.
“Like I said, it’s fine,” Crowley stated after a moment. “Can we get on with it now? I really want to have that coffee.”
Aziraphale, once again, rolled his eyes at him. Then he went back to his travelling bag and got the white candles out.
“Now it’s getting cosy,” he heard Crowley comment behind him. He ignored it.
He placed the candles at the right spots on the circles. He triple-checked if they really stood on the right spots. Then he nodded, content.
“Miss Kleinert,” he asked and turned around to the young woman, “we are ready for the ritual now. It will only take a few minutes. Then we can have the coffee you so kindly made for us.”
He smiled at her. She looked absolutely terrified.
“It’s very simple, really. Nothing can go wrong,” he assured her. “Just step into this circle here, please. Yes, this one. Well done! And now Crowley will step into this one here – Goodness, Crowley, could you put the cup away, please! You can have coffee after this is done! Now, Miss Kleinert, you have to do absolutely nothing but stand there, alright? Just remain in the circle until I tell you we are done, that’s all. Okay? Marvellous! Crowley, you know how this works. I shall start then.”
He stepped away from the circles and grabbed the book. Then he performed the ritual.
He had to give it to Melanie Kleinert that she kept quiet throughout the entire proceeding. She just stood there, in her circle, hands clenched nervously into fists, staring at Aziraphale. Whenever he could, he smiled at her reassuringly.
Crowley, of course, performed flawlessly, but he was used to rituals and he knew Aziraphale would perform flawlessly as well. The ritual that made him nervous was the one they would be executing tonight.
“That was it,” Aziraphale said and closed the book. “You are now, dear lady, completely free of this binding.”
“Really?” Melanie asked. “I didn’t feel anything.”
“Well, good. That means he’s done it right. Otherwise, you would have ended up in Hell, or worse, in –”
“Crowley! Please! No, my dear, he is right, it’s good you didn’t feel anything. But trust me, the ritual worked. I could feel it, and so could Crowley. It’s all done now, you are free.”
“Okay… So now you can release Gabriel? I have nothing more to do with this?”
“Absolutely nothing, Miss Kleinert, I assure you.”
“We still want that coffee, though,” Crowley said.
Melanie let out a long, shaky breath and clutched her shirt over her breast. “Thank God,” she murmured.
“He had nothing to do with this personally,” said Crowley.
Aziraphale gently took Melanie by her arm and led her to the armchair that she had pushed back against the bookshelf. “Sit down, my dear,” he told her softly. “It’s all settled now. You need not worry anymore. Crowley, would you get her the coffee and the chocolates we brought? How do you drink it, dear? Black? With milk and sugar?”
“Just milk,” she mumbled. “Thank you, just milk, please.”
Crowley acted annoyed, but he actually brought the poor woman a cup of the coffee she had prepared for them, with added milk, and he placed the box of chocolates on the armrest, already opened. Aziraphale smiled at him warmly, and the corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched back at him in response.
“Hey, Aziraphale,” he said, “come on, let’s get a cup for ourselves as well.” He nodded towards the tray with the pot and cups that Melanie had put down on a dresser near the door.
“Oh, I –”
“Come on, Aziraphale.”
"Oh. Right...”
They went over to the dresser. As he was pouring coffee into two cups, Crowley leaned over to Aziraphale conspiratorially. “We should entrance her,” he whispered. “Make her believe all this was a dream. There are things human minds are not equipped to handle, and accidentally summoning bloody Gabriel and then being saved by two other supernatural entities is one of these things, believe me. It’s better for her if she thinks it wasn’t real.”
Aziraphale frowned and cast a glance over his shoulder. Melanie was staring at the circles impassively and hadn’t touched her coffee or chocolates yet. He sighed and shook his head slightly.
“Yes, we should maybe do that,” he agreed. “But we have to clean up before we leave, then, or she will notice it hasn’t been a dream after all.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll do the entrancing, you’ll do the cleaning. Then we both did what we are meant to do, after all. You ready?”
Aziraphale nodded.
Crowley grabbed his cup of coffee (more milk than coffee, and at least four pieces of sugar) and sauntered back to the woman in her armchair. “You know what, Melanie,” he said casually. “There’s one thing I want you to be aware of before we leave. I am not an angel. In fact, I am actually a demon. Surprise!”
The moment Melanie stared at him in shock was the moment Crowley snapped his fingers and set her mind into deep sleep. Aziraphale glowered at him disapprovingly.
“What did you have to say that for?” he scolded. “You didn’t have to scare the poor thing even further.”
“It has bothered me all day,” Crowley informed him and popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. “There are certain things that eat at my pride, angel.”
Aziraphale snorted and shook his head. The thought that he would have been very displeased with having someone believe he was a demon, too, was shoved aside without paying it any further attention.
He let the circles disappear and packed everything he had brought back into his travelling bag. Since they didn’t know what the living room had looked like before they had arrived, Crowley questioned the entranced woman about it and Aziraphale arranged everything accordingly. Then he asked Melanie what she had done with the book.
“It’s in the lowest drawer of the kitchen unit,” she told them flatly. “Wrapped in a red plastic bag.”
Aziraphale got it from there.
“Will you give this to Gabriel when we’re back in London?” Crowley asked with a smirk.
Aziraphale, holding the package with all the care his bibliophilic heart was filled with, gave him the worried look of someone who knows that what the other person is suggesting would be the correct thing to do, but deep inside longs for it to be different.
“I see what I’ll do with it when it’s time,” he muttered, gently stowing the book in his bag. “I mean, this is an extremely rare and important book, full of the history of our own kind. Surely, keeping it safe in my shop where no one will ever lay a hand on it is acceptable in order not to destroy what is probably the last witness of this ancient knowledge.”
“Sure.” Crowley grinned. “Can we leave then? I think we’re done here.”
Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, let us go,” he said and grabbed his travelling bag. “Oh, wait. We need to take the cups and everything back to the kitchen, or she will realise she’s had guests.”
“Smart angel,” Crowley complimented him. He put his cup down on the tray and carried everything into the kitchen, where he miracled clean what needed cleaning and stowed everything where it belonged.
Aziraphale, in the meantime, talked to the woman. “In five minutes, you will wake up,” he told her softly. “And you will think all this has been nothing but a dream. A dream about angels who came to you and blessed you and gave you love and strength and the will to do good for the rest of your life.”
He gently put his palm on her forehead to release the stress that had been bothering her for the past few days.
Then Crowley impatiently called from the hall, and Aziraphale grabbed his travelling bag and left the flat with him.
Next: Part 5!
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Poor Melanie would think her house is haunted or something, and she really doesn't need any more stress, does she X'D
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Or maybe Aziraphale's miracles will leave her believing that any minor thing that's off has always been like this?
I'm sure poor Melanie will be fine ^-^
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(Anonymous) 2018-12-02 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
Thanks for all your comments <3
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(Anonymous) 2018-12-02 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)--DBS
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They are a well-rehearsed team! :)
And we all know Crowley is (not so) secretely a good guy, but also has to maintain his "bad demon" act XP
Thank you so much for the kind words, I'm so happy you liked this part!
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Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, they bring me so much joy! ^-^
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And Crowley, even though he was so obnoxious throughout all of this XD Except for that one little moment where he gives the woman the chocolates and Aziraphale smiles at him, and he can't help but smile back...<3
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Crowley is a big fat softie, but ssssh, we don't tell anyone <3
Thanks AGAIN for your wonderful comment! :')
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Thank you so much! :3
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Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked Crowley here! ^-^
We all know he's really a nice guy, but he can be a little jerk, too ;)
And hahahaaa, well, who would like British chocolates if they can have German ones? :'D
Thank you so much for another one of your wonderful comments, they make me really happy! :>