Happy Holidays, impishtubist! Part 3

[goe_mod]

Back to Part 2


  

Chapter 3.

Warlock hurried after Crowley. He was already far away, but his tall figure and unusual saunter made him stand out in the crowd.

Warlock caught up with him.

“It’s stupid,” he said.

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re running away from the problem, when you should stay and solve it. You’re six thousand years old and I’m eighteen; why do I have to teach you these things?”

“I’m not running away, I’m running after.”

“Eh?”

“That angel. I need to know who he is and what his plans for Aziraphale are.”

“Oh! So, you’re pursuing him?” Warlock guessed.

“Yes.”

“But didn’t he just… fly off?”

“Good point. If he did, it wouldn’t be so suspicious. But he’s going somewhere on foot, I can feel the trace of the angelic magic. We’ll catch him and we’ll talk to him. Problem solved.”

Warlock didn’t want to ruin his hopes by saying that it might create more problems than it solved.

He followed Crowley. Very soon, they spotted the angel. He turned down one of the narrow streets of Soho with fewer shops and less people around. He stopped near a small café and looked around.

“He’ll see us,” said Warlock.

“He won’t,” Crowley assured him. They were only about ten metres away when another man appeared from the café and tapped the angel on the shoulder. 

“I knew it!” Crowley hissed triumphantly. 

“What?” Warlock was staring at the newcomer. He was about the same age as the angel, equally thin, and shared his quite unusual taste in clothes. His eyelashes were as long as the angel’s, only they weren’t white, but black as night. Warlock had seen him before.

“It’s Eric. He’s a demon. They are working together!”

“So? You were working with Aziraphale too when you were Hell’s agent.”

“It’s different. I feel it. Now, be quiet, and don't interfere, no matter what I say.”

“Okay…”

They approached the angel and the demon, and then Crowley must have dropped the magical disguise, because the conspirators suddenly saw them and gasped.

“Well, hello there!” Crowley gave them that frightening smile again and grabbed both man-shaped beings by their collars. They tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he lifted them up so that their feet were now dangling in the air. 

“M-M-Master C-Crowley!” stammered Eric.

“Yesss, well-sspotted, Eric. Are you alone here or are there any of your clones around? You see, I’d like to dispose of you to blow off steam, but I still want someone to answer my questions.”

“I am-m-m’alone, sir!”

“Except for your friend, I guessss,” Crowley turned to the angel and then yelled so loudly that even Warlock jumped a bit:

“What are you two doing here?! What does it have to do with Aziraphale?! Is Heaven and Hell behind it?!”

He was furious. And he was scary. Warlock couldn’t believe this was the same Crowley who had been afraid to ride a bike in the morning, who had talked about his worries and sorrows so honestly in the pub. The same Crowley who had sung him a lullaby the day before.

This Crowley seemed actually ready to kill, to destroy these guys on the spot.

“We… we… can’t possibly know what you’re talking about…” mumbled the angel.

“Shut it!” growled Crowley. “Now, listen to me. You either tell me what you’re plotting, or I’ll annihilate you both right now. Warlock, do you remember the church we’ve just passed? Go there and ask some priest to give you a glass of holy water. And I’ll start with this one…” He threw the angel onto the ground and a large ball of fire appeared in his spare hand.

“No!” cried Eric. “No, please! We’ll tell you everything!”

Crowley looked at Eric in surprise. He probably didn’t expect him to protect the angel.

“Everything?” 

“Yes, everything. Just… Don’t hurt Daniel!”

“Oh,” said Crowley. “That’s interesting. But it might be a trick just as well. Okay, Warlock, stay here. But be ready to run when I say. And you,” he turned to Eric again. “Talk.”  

“Okay… Well… After you, er, left, Daniel and I, we were, er, assigned as field agents on Earth.”

“What?! You got my job? You?”

“Nobody else wanted it, sir.”

“Huh, of course they didn’t. Morons.”

“Yes. But I’ve always loved Earth, Master Crowley. And I’ve always been a fan of your work. So I was happy to get this assignment. And then I met Daniel. We… we didn’t get on well at first. But then I told him about you and the angel Aziraphale and explained that we didn’t have to be enemies… And then I became even happier.” He smiled flirtingly at the angel, and Crowley shook him unceremoniously.

“Concentrate!”

“Er… Well, one day I was called to the head office and saw Lord Beelzebub and a couple of Dukes in the room. But that was not all. There were also two archangels and… Daniel. I was terrified. I thought they’d found out and we would be executed as you had been. Only I was not going to survive the holy water. But the meeting was not about us. The angels came to offer a deal. They’d noticed that your friend Aziraphale was doing too much unsanctioned good.”

“Unsanctioned good?”

“Yes. He is helping humans without any orders from above, and sometimes he doesn’t help the right humans. You see what I mean?”

“Oh. Oh yes!” Crowley saw it. “Aziraphale is being kinder than Heaven, and they hate it!”

“Exactly. So, they decided to see if they could get rid of him. They wanted me and Daniel to work together to check if Aziraphale was still invincible to hellfire. It was a win-win deal – neither Heaven nor Hell would have to worry about Aziraphale anymore.”

“Bassstards! I told you, didn’t I?” Crowley turned to Warlock. Warlock smiled. He liked seeing Crowley angry, dangerous, and triumphant. He thought it did him good. “So, what’s your plan?”

Daniel cleared his throat.

“I told Aziraphale today that I knew that some terrorist was going to blow up a school bus. I said that I wasn’t strong enough to save the children from the explosion, and asked him to play the role of a tour guide – to get on the bus and protect them with a magical shield. But he doesn’t know that Eric will be ‘the terrorist’ and the bomb will consist of hellfire.” He fell silent and then added. “I’m not proud of it.”

For a moment, Crowley didn’t say a word. Warlock couldn’t make out his expression from behind the dark glasses. Then the demon asked:

“Correct me if I’ve gotten it wrong, but does this mean you’re also going to murder three dozen innocent kids?”

Daniel stared at the ground. “They said it was a very small number of souls compared to how many Aziraphale had saved during the last few years.”

Crowley sighed.

“Right. So, here are my conditions. I know that Aziraphale will survive the hellfire just like he did the previous time. I don’t care about the humans. I won’t tell him about your stupid test so that you can carry it out and make sure once and for all that you should leave him alone. And you will. Leave him alone forever. And by that, I also mean that you won’t come to the bookshop asking for advice, or an autograph, or Hell knows what else. Understood?”

“Crowley!” Warlock couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

“Silence, Warlock. Remember, I told you to be quiet. This isn’t your business.”

Warlock didn’t know what to say anyway. At least not until after the angel and the demon had given their oaths and hurriedly run away. Crowley shook his tired hands and wiped them on his trouser legs as if he’d been holding something dirty. Then he started down the road.

Warlock finally found his voice:

“You’re going to do something, aren’t you?” he shouted, running after Crowley. “You can’t just leave it like this! Are you going to save him? And the kids?”

“I told you, I don’t care about the kids. I only care about Aziraphale. And he will be fine.”

“Listen, I got it. You said that Aziraphale expected you to sit and watch him getting into trouble. You know what? I think he doesn’t want you to watch, I think, he wants you to keep watch! To look after him in case he goes too far. And be there to save him while he saves the others. I think this is it – that’s your role, your place in the world. You don’t have to be good. You can just be good to Aziraphale.”

Crowley stopped and stared at him.

“I… I like how that sounds. I don’t have to do it. I’m just doing what I’m doing because that’s who I am. Wow.” He smiled a little wistfully, and then looked at Warlock. “Thank you, Warlock. I didn’t expect that something would really come out of this day.”

“So?”

Crowley started walking again.

“Still don’t care about the kids.” 

 

***

Warlock came to the bookshop again in the morning. He looked a bit nervous, Aziraphale thought, but maybe it was because he was alone, without Crowley.

“What’s the time?” he asked as soon as he came in. “I agreed to meet with Crowley in St. James’s at noon. I’m afraid I’ll lose track of the time.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear boy. It’s only ten yet. And the park’s quite close. Besides, I’m heading there myself soon. I was asked to accompany a group of students to the British Library. And the bus is picking them up after the tour around Buckingham Palace. Have you ever been to the British Library, Warlock?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You really should! It’s incredible.”

“Maybe I could go with you?”

“With me? You mean, today? Oh, no! No, that’s totally impossible!”

“But why? You’re an angel, surely you could miracle me a ticket or something?”

“No. I mean, of course, I could, but…” Aziraphale was frantically searching for an excuse. Suddenly he found a perfect one. “You’ve just said that you were to meet with Crowley. He has certainly planned something interesting for you.”

“Maybe. Okay. Next time, then.” Warlock didn’t seem particularly upset.

“Sure! Next time. So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Actually, I was going to talk about Crowley.”

“Oh.”

“You see, I think he is worried.”

“Crowley? That sounds like him. He’s always worried. He’s a quintessence of worries. I start worrying for no reason simply because I’ve gotten close to him.” 

“But he has a reason for it.”

“He always has.”

“He is afraid of losing you.”

“What?”

Aziraphale hadn’t been prepared for this. The Warlock he remembered was a slightly lazy and soft boy who was easily persuaded, who quickly forgot his nanny’s lessons when Aziraphale showed him a particularly beautiful butterfly. The only time Warlock had been rude with Aziraphale was at his eleventh birthday. But let’s face it; that was Aziraphale’s own fault.

This Warlock was surprisingly serious. And he was being serious… about Crowley?

“He thinks that you don’t like him as he is. He thinks you want him to choose a side,” Warlock continued.

“What? But– But that’s nonsense, my dear boy! Why would he think that? I’ve never told him anything– ”

“Exactly! You don’t talk to him, you don’t tell him how much he means to you. You go around doing good deeds and making him think that you prefer being an angel rather than being with him. You should tell him at least sometimes that you need him, or he will go on worrying till he won’t believe you even if you do tell him that.”

“But I do really need him. I just thought… I thought he wouldn’t want me to talk about feelings and be, er, soppy.”

“You don’t have to be soppy!” Warlock rolled his eyes. “Just be… close.”

“Did he tell you all this?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Huh! Can you imagine him saying any of this?” 

“No.”

“ No,” he huffed smugly. “He doesn’t speak. He acts.”

“You’re right,” Aziraphale agreed, not even trying to keep the fondness from his smile.

They sat drinking tea for a while. Aziraphale told Warlock stories from the past – stories about the majestic, generous, brave, cunning, and stupid things Crowley had done over the years –  when Warlock’s phone rang. He picked up. Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s annoyed voice.

“Hey! I’ve arrived a couple of minutes early. I’ll be waiting for you on the bench near the blue bridge.”

“What do you mean ‘a couple of minutes’?” asked Warlock. “We agreed to meet at noon!”

“Yes, and it’s  five minutes to twelve already. Hurry up, these geese are going to eat me!”

He hung up. Warlock looked at Aziraphale, then at his phone, and then he showed him the phone. There was a clock on the screen, and the numbers said: “11:56.”

“But– But– How?!” stammered Aziraphale.

“Oh, it must be because of Daylight Savings Time!” Warlock said. “I forgot that it is earlier here than in America.”

“I forgot that there was such a thing at all…” Aziraphale was still processing it. It meant… it meant… Oh, Dear Lord! 

He felt very cold and very hot at the same time. He was going to miss the bus! The was going to break his promise, fail his mission, and let all those kids die! And all that because he simply forgot to adjust his watch to the summer time. Aziraphale’s eyes were burning.

He rushed to the door, not even bothering to grab his coat. He heard Warlock hurrying after him, calling his name, but Aziraphale had no time to explain.

 

***

Eric was relieved. The angel appeared. He was a bit late, but he was here. Crowley hadn’t been lying after all. The hellfire bomb ticked away underneath the guide’s seat.

Aziraphale climbed inside the bus and turned to the children.

“Hello, boys and girls,” he said, smiling nervously. “I’m sorry I’m late. My name is Mr Fell, and today I’ll be taking you to the famous British Library. There are tons of cool books there and nothing will stop me from showing you all of them. Now, I suppose it’s time we get going,” he tapped Eric, who was wearing a disguise, on the shoulder.

Eric started the bus. There were about ten seconds left. He drove the bus slowly along the Mall. In the rear-view mirror, he watched Aziraphale carefully roll up the cuffs of his coat. Poor idiot, Eric thought. He’s so sure he’s going to save them all. 

Five seconds.

The angel stood up from his seat.

Four.

He took a step into the aisle.

Three.

He raised his arms as if preparing to shield himself and the children from something.

Eric didn’t look at the road; he couldn’t tear his eyes off the angel.

Two.

That’s why he saw the sly lopsided smile that crossed Aziraphale’s face, just before…

One.

…the bomb went off. The children screamed. For a moment, Aziraphale in the bus seemed to be at the centre of the explosion. He held it, not letting it expand further. He glowed like the sun. Fire danced among the curls of his hair. Eric watched him, mesmerized.

Aziraphale outside the bus, the one without a coat, standing behind a tree, watched it too.

At first, he thought he’d failed: the bus was leaving without him. Then, he was certain – he saw the explosion. Crowley was right – he shouldn’t try to be an angel when he was certainly not fit for it. He was too selfish, too undisciplined… Just look at him: he’d promised to help his young colleague save the kids, and then he’d failed simply because he was late!

And then, the explosion ended. It just winked out as if someone had extinguished a candle.

The bus stopped and that someone opened the passenger door and got out. He looked exactly like the real Aziraphale, only much cooler. Oh, and he had a coat. 

Then he went around the front of the bus and pulled the driver out of it. The real Aziraphale was now so close he could see the driver’s long eyelashes.

“Oh!” He thought. “Oh, I see…”

The pretender told something to the fake driver, then he snapped his fingers, and the driver disappeared before he could notice the real Aziraphale. 

The kids on the bus started applauding.

“You’re a much more successful magician than I am, my dear,” Aziraphale said, coming up to the bus.

“Oh, you’re here, good.” Crowley in Aziraphale’s body said, turning around. Well, it was not really Aziraphale’s body – simply an illusion. Eric was a mere imp; it was not that hard to fool him. “I know close to nothing about the British Library. And these guys are going to need a guide since they, you know, aren’t dead.”

Despite Crowley’s casual tone, he looked quite nervous. He was struggling to unroll one stubborn cuff and kept casting worried glances at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale felt himself blinking too rapidly and realised that he was trying to hold back tears. He was saved by the sound of police sirens.

“I don’t think it will be necessary. I guess they have had enough adventures for one day.” Aziraphale nodded towards the right where the police cars were already rushing towards them. 

“I could use a tour!” said Warlock, who had finally caught up with Aziraphale. “You promised me, remember?”

“Oh…” Aziraphale looked at Crowley. He shrugged. “Well, okay then. Let’s go before it becomes too crowded here.”

While they were walking along the quiet paths of St James’s Park, Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was no longer in disguise.

“You saved my life. Again,” he said, looking at him very seriously. 

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Crowley dismissed with his words. He’d never been very good at receiving praise.

“I was being foolish, and I didn’t only risk my life and the lives of innocent children. If I had been… destroyed, they’d have realised that we weren’t invincible after all, and they would have come after you next. I risked your life too, Crowley… your existence.” He felt himself shudder at the thought. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh. I didn’t think of that,” Crowley said, genuinely surprised.

“Of course you didn’t.” Aziraphale saw his puzzled face, and he suddenly became absolutely unable to control all the fondness that filled his heart at the sight of Crowley. He stepped closer, grabbed Crowley’s arm hugging it tightly, pressed his forehead to his friend’s shoulder, and stayed like that for a moment.

Crowley grew still. Then he reached out his other hand and patted Aziraphale’s back gently. Crowley’s shoulder was skinny, but somehow comfortable anyway. It felt safe. 

When Aziraphale released him a moment later, already missing that strange feeling of safety, Crowley said:

“I’ve saved your freedom too, by the way. They will fear us for a while longer, so you can do as many good deeds as you please. With no consequences at all.”

“Oh no, I won’t be so reckless again. It was a mistake.”

“Come on!” Crowley poked him slightly on the side with his bony elbow. “It’s what you are. You can’t go against nature. And I love it that you are so good that it has pissed off Heaven itself!”

He laughed so happily that Aziraphale even felt a little proud and gave a little smile too. Then he asked:

“And what’s your nature then? You are free to be anything you want, too. Have you decided who you are?”

“Yeah, I guess. Warlock here has helped a bit.” He nodded at Warlock who was silently listening to their conversation. Then Crowley turned back to Aziraphale and simply said, “I’m the one who’s going to keep you safe. Whatever stupid thing you do.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale stopped and stared at Crowley. What the demon had just said was huge, and wonderful, and it seemed like a big responsibility. But Crowley didn’t look at all like he’d said something out of the ordinary. And then Aziraphale realised why. Because it wasn’t like anything had changed. Crowley had just given a name to something he’d always been doing. To something he’d been always giving him. Safety. It was strange to feel it from the person who never felt safe himself, but there it was. And Crowley was going to do it forever. So Aziraphale said again, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go risking your life too much. Remember that if you die, I’ll have existential crises.”

Warlock chuckled. Aziraphale immediately felt a bit embarrassed; he’d kept forgetting about the boy. And he had apparently done so much for Crowley and even for Aziraphale.

“And you, Warlock? Have you found what you were looking for in England?” he asked, more trying to be polite than expecting an answer. But Warlock suddenly said:

“I think so.”

“Do you?” Crowley swung round to face him.

“Yes, I’m thinking of…”

“Is it volunteering? I knew that my speech had inspired you!” Aziraphale interrupted him.

“Not exactly, but…”

“Are you going to become a spy? Tell me you’re going to become a spy? You liked that little chase we had yesterday, didn’t you?” Crowley was excited too. Aziraphale made a mental note to question him about that chase.

“No, actually…”

“Damn it!” they both said, and looked at each other. Crowley grinned and Aziraphale blushed a bit.

“…Actually, I’ve decided to become a psychotherapist.”

“You what?!” exclaimed Crowley.

“I quite liked solving your problems, guys. It was much more interesting than thinking about my own. I know myself, but other people – they are like riddles, but the sort of riddles that need help. So in a way, yeah, I am going to be a bit of a spy – trying to understand what people are hiding from me. And I’m also going to help people.”

“It’s a really good idea, Warlock! I’m so proud of you,” Aziraphale said and shook the young man’s hand.

“Does that mean your old troubled Godfathers will have a lifetime discount on your services? We’ve helped you to find yourself, after all.” 

“Hm, let me think,” Warlock pretended to be thinking, then narrowed his eyes at Crowley and said, “Only if it is couples therapy.”