Happy Holidays, silverfox! Part 5

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Not that Bad - Part 5!

They had enough time left to pay the cathedral a visit. Neither had been there in ages, and both had to admit it looked quite lovely still.

It was always nice to visit places that had been there for centuries. Human life was fleeting, changing, and shifting – which was what made it so interesting and wonderful, of course. But sometimes, it gave you a bit of comfort to see that some things were outlasting and, like you, were living on while everything around you vanished.

Aziraphale was running his fingers along the pillars as they slowly walked through the church, bathing in the colourful light that fell in through the stained glass windows. The stones were old and full of memories. Sometimes, places like this helped you to remember, too.

“Do you recall when this was the highest building in the world?” he asked as they stood in the crossing, leaning their heads back to look at the mosaic on the ceiling.

Crowley shook his head. “No. When was that?”

“Ah. 19th century. You were asleep then.”

Crowley hummed lowly.

“You know what,” he mused, “we should come back here when all this is over. We haven’t been on vacation for quite a while. We could do Germany first, then Italy, France, Spain. Maybe fly over to Greece after that. You know, looking at the old sights, the new sights, enjoying the food, the atmosphere. London is great, but I need a break from it.”

Aziraphale had to smile softly. “That would be wonderful,” he said. “I would enjoy that very much.”

He saw Crowley smile as well out of the corner of his eye.

“Good,” the demon replied. “We’ll talk about that later then.”

Aziraphale nodded with a smile and linked his arm with Crowley’s.

They bought some more chocolates on their way to the airport and shared them in the car. It was quite a bummer that Queen wasn’t playing on the radio, but they could live with it for the short while that the ride took.

Back on the plane, however, Aziraphale could feel Crowley getting more and more nervous. He started to become fidgety and uneasy and he began to babble about random things completely out of the blue. After millennia of experience with him, Aziraphale knew these signs of panic.

He couldn’t say that he blamed Crowley. He was pretty sure that Gabriel wouldn’t attack him, but who knew? Crowley was a demon, after all, and Gabriel was an angel with very strict standards. Maybe he did feel like using his newly regained powers to smite the first demon he could get his hands on.

Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s forearm and let soothing energies flow over to the demon. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Crowley. And if he had to antagonise Gabriel in the process, so be it.

“Look how huge this town seems to be when you fly over it,” he mumbled as London came into sight beneath them. “I always forget how big it really is.”

“Things always get bigger the closer they are to you,” Crowley replied. There was this voice that he always had when he was thinking about things. Aziraphale squeezed his arm tighter and stroked it with his thumb.

When they left the plane, he still held on to Crowley tightly.

“Can you stop here, please?” he asked on their way back to the bookshop. “I need to make a purchase.”

“At Waterstones?” Crowley frowned. “Don’t you have enough books at your own shop?”

“Not these,” Aziraphale said and opened the door. “I’ll be right back,” he promised and vanished into the store.

A moment later, he came out with a huge bag in one hand, and a tiny bag in the other. He handed the tiny bag to Crowley as he got back into the car.

“What’s this?” the demon asked.

“Chocolate fudge brownies,” Aziraphale replied. “For celebrating when we finally got rid of Gabriel.”

“Ah… Well, then.”

“I bought three,” Aziraphale went on, fully aware of the nervous swallow Crowley gave. “One for you, one for me, and one to share.”

“So two for you,” Crowley teased with flat tones and started the engine. The bag remained in his lap as he drove, a silent reassurance that nothing bad would happen to him.

He parked the Bentley in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop. Just when Aziraphale had put down all of the bags in his back room, the bell above the shop door jingled, announcing that the two Archangels had arrived. They were laughing about something. That was a good sign. At least, Gabriel seemed to be in a good mood, then.

Aziraphale cast a glance to Crowley, who had joined him in the back room. He looked absolutely horrible. All Aziraphale wanted to do was give him a long, firm hug and tell him that everything would turn out fine, but right now, with Gabriel and Raphael in the next room, that certainly wasn’t the best idea. So he just smiled at him reassuringly, and then left the back room to meet the other angels on their way through the shop.

“I see you found your way back here,” he stated.

“Yup,” Raphael confirmed. He had his arm thrown around Gabriel and grinned. “How was Germany?” he asked, with a terrible German accent.

“Successful,” Aziraphale replied. “The summoning is now coded on Crowley, who can’t wait to let go of it again. So if we could get it over with, I think everyone involved would be ever so grateful.”

“Agreed,” Gabriel grumbled.

“Alright. I shall get the book and the chalk and the candles, then. The sooner we get through with this, the better.”

Gabriel nodded and Raphael just smiled.

Aziraphale returned to the back room and got the utensils he had already used for the ritual in Germany out of his travelling bag. The book with the Summoning Text he still left in there. There was no need to bring this one up yet.

The volume with the ritual that could break the bond between Gabriel and Crowley held a bookmark at the page that they needed. This time, Aziraphale miracled Gabriel’s hands clean without even asking him beforehand.

“Hold this,” he said and shoved the open book in his grip. “Raphael, would you kindly help me with the preparations? I am certain no one here wants Crowley to be involved in any of these proceedings.”

The demon was standing a bit aside, leaning against the wall. He had his hands buried deep into his pockets to a) look cool and calm, and b) not fiddle around with anything nervously.

Raphael raised his eyebrows with a bemused little smile, but nodded. “My pleasure,” he proclaimed sweetly.

Together, they began to chalk the required shapes, sigils, and words onto the wooden floor of the bookshop. Aziraphale was far more trained in this than Raphael was, since the Archangel didn’t have to resort to these methods to contact Heaven. He was in Heaven most of the time. Aziraphale, however, had used rituals all the time before Above had established the phone connection, which had only happened a few decades ago. So, for Aziraphale, this was common practice.

Still, Raphael worked very scrupulously. Aziraphale was faster, but he didn’t have to correct a thing when they began to double- and triple-check the chalking. Gabriel checked them again as well, and Aziraphale knew Crowley did the same from where he stood, even though he still acted impassive.

Finally, they placed the candles at the right spots and checked everything for the very last time.

“I think we can begin now,” Aziraphale stated. “Gabriel, Crowley? Are you ready?”

Gabriel nodded. “I can’t wait for this to be over,” he declared and handed the book back to Aziraphale. “My human body is itching and tensing, and I’m starting to feel emaciated. I want my powers back finally.”

“Whatever it takes to have you leave my playing field,” Crowley stated from where he leaned against the wall. “There are far too many angels in my proximity right now.”

He wasn’t even joking with this, Aziraphale knew. But he still managed to make it sound snotty.

Under Gabriel’s glare, Crowley pushed himself off the wall and stepped into the circle Aziraphale gestured to. Gabriel stepped into the other.

“So, we’re clear?” Crowley asked, sounding ever so casual. Only someone as familiar with him as Aziraphale could hear the slight tremble underneath his act. “I release you, you leave this place immediately without any further ado? I don’t tell anyone about my services for you, you stop forcing Aziraphale on my trail so much?”

Gabriel studied him with narrowed eyes, lips pressed together into a thin, grim line. Then he nodded grudgingly.

“I’ll stick to my word,” he promised Crowley. “But if I get wind of you not keeping your end of the deal, you’ll regret crossing me for the rest of eternity.”

Crowley managed to grin convincingly. “Oh, no worries, Gabriel,” he purred. “I’ll enjoy the potential of this knowledge far too much to waste it that easily.”

Gabriel’s face grew dark. He probably wanted to smite Crowley right on the spot, but if he angered the demon, he would spill everything about this precarious deal, and Gabriel could not afford that. He didn’t know that Crowley actually was far more scared of him than he could ever be of Crowley.

“Fine,” Aziraphale hurried to say. “Let’s get started then, shall we? I will instruct you on what to do during the ritual, and please follow said instructions without making a fuss about them, or something might go wrong. Alright? Good. Uh, Raphael, would you mind standing aside a bit so I can… Thank you. Oh, and please dim the light. Okay. All is ready. Here we go then.”

He cleared his throat.

The book was heavy in his arms. Its binding was rough against his fingertips, the ink stood out black against the light page. Aziraphale, who was usually well composed and steady, felt the blood throbbing against his temples.

He opened his mouth and began to read.

Aziraphale knew every language that ever had existed on Earth; even the ones that had long been dead. Still, he was very careful not to mispronounce a word or to trip over a sentence. Every tiny mistake could turn this ritual into a risk.

Finally, he had reached the end of the first writing.

“I now need Crowley to perform something,” he then announced softly. He turned the book around so that Crowley could see the pages, and pointed at a sigil, drawn in red ink. “You need to draw this on Gabriel’s forehead,” he said. “And then say the words written below this drawing.”

Gabriel looked as if he wanted to kill both of them.

“I told you I would draw on Gabriel’s face,” Crowley quipped, but Aziraphale heard the nervous tremor in his voice. Still, Crowley managed to keep his hand steady as he reached up to connect the tip of his thumb to the Archangel’s forehead.

Gabriel gritted his teeth and hissed in suppressed pain. The sigil that Crowley drew with his finger appeared as a red marking on Gabriel’s skin, like a brand caused simply by the touch.

Aziraphale cast a glance over at Raphael. The other Archangel was standing behind Gabriel, watching what was happening. Peculiarly, he seemed very relaxed.

Crowley turned his head to have a look at the book again. Aziraphale tapped his index finger next to the words he needed to read out loud. They were also printed in red.

Crowley recited them faultlessly, filling in both of their names where they were needed. The sigil on Gabriel’s forehead began to glow, changing from red to white. A low humming noise started to fill the room.

The last words, Crowley remembered and turned his head back to look at Gabriel. His sunglasses hid his yellow eyes, but the intensity of his glance was palpable. It was a challenging glance, a last reassurance that both of them would stick to their word. Gabriel held his gaze, eyes glimmering with unspoken threats and promises.

“I hereby release you from your binding,” Crowley said.

Light exploded inside Gabriel’s circle. It shot up his legs, his torso, his head, engulfing him in blinding, bright whiteness. A relieved groan escaped him as he lay back his head.

The light around him began to form wings. They grew and unfolded, and when the light retreated, Gabriel stood there in all his glory: Tall, broad, with big, grey and brown wings, matching his hair and clothing. A bit of the light remained above his head, surrounding it like a halo. He looked intimidatingly majestic.

It was absolutely annoying.

His purple eyes lingered on Crowley. Aziraphale closed the book and put it away, just in case he needed to intervene in something.

But Gabriel and Crowley just stared at each other.

Finally, the Archangel raised his chin and let his wings disappear.

“Don’t misinterpret this, demon,” he said in his usual, arrogant tone. “We have an agreement and I will stick to it, but this agreement won’t overwrite our basic relationship. It only applies to this very situation and does not mean you get a free pass on anything else. Next time we see each other, everything will be back to normal.”

“I don’t intend to see you again,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale was surprised by how convincingly snide his voice sounded. “And you seem to forget that you came to me for help, not the other way round. If anyone here has the right to make angry remarks, it is me, not you.”

Gabriel’s expression darkened. Crowley was right, of course. Gabriel had no reason to be this hostile, since Crowley had helped him out of a very unpleasant situation, without really asking for much. Actually, he had, of course, helped Aziraphale out of an unpleasant situation. But Gabriel wasn’t aware of that.

Aziraphale knew, though, how hard it was to fully trust a demon. It had taken him some time, even though he had never been particularly hostile towards Crowley and had never minded chatting or being with him. Gabriel, probably, was just very afraid of the power that Crowley now held over him. He couldn’t know that the worst thing Crowley would do was to make fun of him around Aziraphale for the rest of their shared eternity.

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in Gabriel’s place. “For helping us out.”

“My pleasure, angel,” Crowley replied sweetly. “See, this is how you treat a demon who helped you, Gabriel.”

Before Gabriel’s face could turn any sourer, Raphael placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him out of the circle. “Indeed, we thank you,” he said and smiled at Crowley. “It is because of you that I have my loved one back. Now we will do you the favour of finally leaving you alone after all these strains. Gabriel and I have some things to catch up on and the both of you should do the exact same.”

He grinned widely and winked at the both of them. Aziraphale, who realised Raphael really meant exactly the same, stared at him with big eyes.

Gabriel seemed to interpret his partner’s words differently. He loosened up a little and nodded at Aziraphale. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said.

That he actually acknowledged Aziraphale’s help and didn’t just take it as a given, startled Aziraphale almost as much as Raphael’s implication towards him and Crowley. He blinked slowly.

“Now before we go: What happened to the Summoning Text? I hope the woman is not still in possession of it.”

Aziraphale got a hold of himself and shook his head hurriedly. “Oh, no! No, no. She doesn’t have it anymore, we took care of that,” he promised.

Gabriel studied him suspiciously, full well knowing they stood in a shop bursting with old and valuable books, so Aziraphale quickly started a distraction manoeuvre. “Wait, I’ve got something for you!” he announced. Under Gabriel’s, Raphael’s, and Crowley’s confused glances, he hurried over to the big bag from Waterstones and presented it to his direct superior.

Gabriel took it, confused, and had a look inside. “… Is that..?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. All seven of them. I thought you might want to know how it continues.”

Gabriel raised his head and smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, slightly amused and definitely thankful, and it was the first time ever that Aziraphale had seen it directed at him. He smiled back.

“Don’t let him drink wine while he reads those, Raphael. Or you will end up listening to rants about three-headed dogs in a castle.”

“It’s a school!” Gabriel clarified.

Raphael laughed and grabbed his arm gently. “Let’s go, darling. You can tell me about the dog when we’re done Up There. I’m sure Michael will be thrilled to see you.”

“Michael would be a bloody Slytherin,” Gabriel grumbled, but he followed Raphael to the shop door. The bell above it jingled again, wishing them goodbye, and then they were gone.

Aziraphale felt a weight dropping from his shoulders.

“Did you just give Gabriel the Harry Potter series?” Crowley asked, bewildered.

“Yes. He started reading it yesterday, after you were gone.”

Now it was on Crowley to blink in confusion.

Aziraphale chuckled softly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like some tea, my dear?” he asked, smiling at him. “We have some chocolate fudge brownies waiting for us, if you recall.”

Crowley looked at him, and a soft smile began to spread over his features. “That’s right,” he said, and Aziraphale could hear the relief of this all being over enriching the tone of his voice. “I won’t say no to that after the horrible coffee we had in Germany.”

Aziraphale laughed. “But we still want to go back there on vacation, right?” he asked as he led Crowley to the sofa.

“Oh, absolutely! But to nicer locations than a random woman’s flat,” Crowley determined.

They had tea and ate their brownies. Crowley did get to eat some of the second, but it definitely wasn’t a fair share. They talked a lot, over places to visit, things to be seen, and when it got late, Aziraphale removed the tea service and got them the wine, and then they talked some more, enjoying each other’s company.

It wasn’t a fast form of Catching Up, admittedly, but they never had gone fast in their relationship. It was a slow and careful step-by-step, gently inching closer to each other, always taking a little bit more and getting away with it.

It was going on a vacation together and being in each other’s company the whole trip through. It was remembering the last time they had been somewhere together and talking about old memories. It was getting drunk on good wine and stuffed with good food and sitting close to each other on a bench in the night air. It was sharing a little house by the sea and staying there longer than they had intended.

It was sharing a sofa.

Sharing a bed.

It was touching in ways they hadn’t touched each other before.

There was no reason to rush it, they had all of eternity.

It was loving each other in any form that there was.

-~*°*~-_-~*°*~-_-~*°*~-





EPILOGUE

Aziraphale’s phone rang late in the morning. Carefully, not to wake Crowley who still lay curled up against him on the sofa, he threw back the blanket and got to his feet.

“Yes?” he asked as he grabbed the receiver and tightened the belt around his waist with his other hand.

Luckily, the phone on his wall didn’t have a video function. He would hate someone seeing him in nothing but his dressing gown.

“Sanael,” the voice on the other end said.

Aziraphale leaned against the wall with his shoulder and frowned in concentrated thought. “Hufflepuff,” he finally determined.

“What, Hufflepuff? I actually thought about him as Ravenclaw.”

“Good grace, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, “have you even read the books? There is no way Sanael would be in Ravenclaw.”

“He’s smart and witty,” Gabriel defended himself.

“He’s loyal, brave, and kind,” Aziraphale corrected. “He might be a Gryffindor, but I think his kindness and his care for others is more outstanding than his courage.”

“Definitely Gryffindor rather than Hufflepuff, then,” Gabriel said.

“Slytherin!” Raphael called from the background. Aziraphale and Gabriel groaned in unison.

“He is a Ravenclaw,” Aziraphale said. “Annoying humour, sarcasm, and a permanent grin.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Gabriel grumbled.

“Well, you would know,” Raphael called again.

Aziraphale grimaced and simply hung up.

He cast a glance in the back room to assure himself that Crowley was still sleeping. Then he went upstairs, cleaned up, and dressed, before he returned to his shop and got some money from his desk drawer.

It was a beautiful day in the City of Westminster. It was cold, but sunny, and the promise of winter already hung in the air.

On his way from the bakery, the freshly bought pastries in their paper bag rustled on Aziraphale’s arm. He would make eggs and coffee when he returned, and then he would do the crossword puzzle and Crowley would read him peculiar facts from his phone while they ate.

Sometimes, catching up was adapting to each other.

And sometimes, adapting to each other meant making your significant other breakfast while he slept, and smiling widely when he hugged you from behind with his heavily tousled hair, mumbling a Good Morning in your ear.

Link to Bonus Gift!