Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The serpent wound his way through the Garden. It was beautiful, he had to admit. Lots of greenery. This was his first time out of the Pit, away from the dim, smoke filled halls of Hell. The sunlight was warm on his scales as he slithered past the great waterfall. The crystalline blue almost made him turn from his path… but no. He had a job to do. With a flick of his tongue just capturing the fresh scent of the water, he turned and headed deeper into the leafy underbrush.

At the center of the Garden was a tree. It wasn’t that much different than other trees that grew around it, except this tree had large red fruits that drooped heavily from the branches. And this tree, alone of all the ones beside it, had a small sign around its trunk. “Do not eat,” was written in large black letters against the white of the boards, and the serpent raised himself up to read the sign. His tongue flicked out several times as he contemplated the words, the sun shining off of his red belly scales, the same color as the fruits that adorned the tree. His top scales were black, dark as the night, so dark it was as though they drank in the light around them.

Hmm, he thought to himself. That sign won’t do those humans a lick of good. Can’t read, can they? Of course, there were angels around… four to be exact. One on each of the walls. Perhaps they could be convinced to explain it to the couple. If they weren’t too haughty to speak to the new creations. The very thought sent a shudder down the serpentine coils. He’d probably be smited on sight. Smote? Or was it smitten? If a snake could shrug, it would have raised its tiny shoulders. As it was, he simply continued on to the tree and easily climbed into the branches. Finding a nice fork, he settled himself in to wait.

It wasn’t too long, though to be honest he was out of practice with telling time. The sun had moved a short way across the sky at least when there was the sound of movement close by. The serpent lifted its head, golden yellow eyes searching through the leaves. Yes! There… a figure stepped forward from the surrounding foliage.

So this was a human. The serpent cocked its head as it took in the figure. She had dusky skin, with wide honey colored eyes and full red lips. Long curly hair tumbled halfway down her back. The swell of her breasts and hips were markedly different than the appearance of the angels that that the serpent had known. She was humming as she walked, passing closely to the tree, but didn’t spare it even a glance as she went.

“Good morning,” the serpent said, stretching himself in her direction as he kept his tail curled around the branch he rested in, letting his head break through the leaves that hid him from view. With a surprised “Oh!” the woman turned, a brilliant white smile lighting up her face.

“Good morning,” she replied. Slowly she moved forward, no fear causing her to hesitate as she closed the distance and put her face close to the dark snout. The light glinted off of two needlelike fangs that dripped down the sides of his snout. He flicked his tongue again, tasting the innocence that rolled off of her skin. “I haven’t seen you yet.”

“No, indeed… well, it’s a big place,” the serpent said, keeping his yellow eyes steadily on hers. “But s’nice to meet you… do you have a name, then?”

“Oh! Yes, of course! The angels did teach us that. I’m Eve.” She looked pleased to have remembered. The serpent blinked. This was going to be easier than he had thought.

“Charmed,” he said, slipping out of the tree and slithering towards her. He was a large serpent, and rising up on his coils he was able to bring his head almost up to her eye level. “You may call me ‘Crawley.’”

“Crawley.” Eve tested the word on her tongue, and smiled as she found it acceptable. “What are you?”

“Just a sssnake,” the serpent hissed, elongating the ‘s’ as though savoring the word. “Have you… seen other snakes here?”

“No, I’ve never seen anything like you. We do have birds, and lions, sheep, bears… yesterday I saw a ‘cat’!”

“What a variety,” Crawley said.

“You’re very pretty.”

“Do you think so?” Crawley swept his tail across the tip of his snout, preening a bit. “’s very kind of you.”

Eve reached out a hand slowly. The serpent gave her a guarded look but remained motionless, allowing her to touch the top of his head. The warmth of her hand felt good against his cool scales. She slid her fingers down between his eyes to his nose, and then very gently followed the curve of his fangs. As she reached the needle sharp points he drew back and shook his head.

“Careful,” he reprimanded her. “It'd be a shame to prick that finger, wouldn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean to… I hope I haven’t done anything upsetting.”

“’s alright,” he said breezily, closing his eyes with a lazy air. “No harm done.”

***

“And the long yellow ones are bananas, those small ones are figs, and near the waterfall they have something fuzzy and brown called a coconut. It’s all so lovely. We eat as much as we want every day! Do you like fruit? I can get some for you if you’re hungry.”

“How generous. No thank you, I’ve already eaten.” Crawley and the woman were lounging by a large rock in the dense foliage near where they had met. Three days had passed since then, and every afternoon the serpent had arrived to speak with her. When he had arrived today, Eve had asked if they could sit in the sunlight, but the serpent had refused to leave the cover of the plants, and not wanting to risk losing his company, Eve had agreed.

“There are other things, too! Pomegranates and peaches, oranges…”

“How about that Tree at the center of the Garden?” Crawley asked. “The one where I met you? It must be very special, it has a little sign.”

“The angels said that it’s the Tree of Knowledge,” Eve replied. “But we’re not supposed to eat it. We can have anything else here that we want, but not that one.”

“Seems a bit strange, doesn’t it?” the serpent mused. “Why not that one? Wouldn’t knowledge be a good thing?”

“I guess I never thought of that…”

“I wonder what you’d learn?” he mused. “The name of every creature under Heaven, perhaps? Or of the great lands that lie beyond these walls?”

“There’s nothing beyond these walls,” Eve laughed.

“Isn’t there?” Crawley looked at her for a moment, and as she gazed into his golden eyes the laughter faded from her lips. Suddenly she was uncertain. Crawley always did seem to know so much. Was it possible that there were lands, away beyond the Garden? The angels had never mentioned it, but in truth she had never asked.

“Have you… seen other lands?” she asked quietly. With a sinuous wiggle he slithered closer, circling her, sliding over her bare feet and ankles. She stood still as he wound himself around her body until he curled across her shoulders, his head level with hers.

“Such things I have seen,” he whispered. She shivered as his forked tongue flicked her ear, at the feeling of his heaviness hanging off of her, at the clutching of his scales. “I could tell you all about them, and anything else you’d like to know.”

“How do you know so much?”

“Just a matter of experience,” Crawley hissed. “And speaking with… friends. You learn so much from friends, don’t you think, Eve? I’ve got so many acquaintances, and they all have such interesting stories. You must have lovely conversations as well, when I’m not around?”

“Well…” Eve hesitated. “There’s Adam,” she said, casting a glance over her shoulder towards where she had left her companion. “But he’s not really a storyteller. To be honest, he’s only a few days older than me, and neither of us has left the Garden. We didn’t even realize there was anything else out there.”

“Not much of a conversationalist, eh?” the snake commiserated.

“Not really. Not like you.”

“What a nice thing to say!” The snake slid forward, dropping from her shoulder onto the ground and slowly making his way deeper into the underbrush. “Glad I decided to speak with you the other day. I’ve enjoyed our conversations very much.”

“Oh, me too!” Eve beamed as she walked beside the snake. “I didn’t realize how lonely I was until you showed up.” The snake paused, lifting its head so it could look at her with those glowing golden eyes. It squirmed just a little, a guilty shifting of its coils, but Eve didn’t seem to notice. “You will keep visiting, won’t you?” she asked, a tinge of worry threaded through the question. “It’s just… the angels are always so busy, and it’s just me and Adam and…”

The serpent dropped his gaze and began moving again, the woman following beside him. “Course,” he replied without looking at her. “If you like.”

***

Eve and Crawley lay very still, cheek to cheek. Through the leaves of the underbrush where they hid, they could just see the brilliant red of the fruits hanging from the Tree. Like two children peering through a fence at an abandoned house, their eyes never strayed from the tree and it’s forbidden fruit. The morning sun made the apples shine like rubies dripping through the emerald leaves.

“Can you imagine putting up a don’t touch sign on a tree smack in the middle of a Garden?” Crawley drawled. His voice was quiet, as though he were trying very hard to keep anyone but the two of them from overhearing.

“The angel says it’s a test. To make sure that we’re honoring the things God tells us.” She could feel the long thick body of the serpent shudder at the mention of the angels. He always seemed to do that when she spoke of them. “Are you afraid of the angels?” she asked, turning so that she could face him. “I know they can look fierce, but they’re awfully nice… well, at least the Angel of the Eastern Gate is. He’s the only one that comes down to speak with us.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” Crawley tried to stuff down his reactions to the angels and returned his attention to the tree before them. Eyes on the prize, that’s what he had to remember. “What d’you suppose it tastes like?”

“I’m… not sure.” Eve shifted uncomfortably next to him. She shot a last guilty look at the tree and then turned towards Crawley, trying to keep her eyes off of the tree. “But I really think if the angels don’t want us to concern ourselves with it, maybe we should heed them.”

“If we only took one, we could eat it right here,” Crawley mused, ignoring the discomfort of his companion. “No one would ever even have to know!”

“I don’t think we should talk about the tree anymore,” Eve said, and Crawley was surprised to hear the hardness in her voice. He turned his head so he could take a good look at her, blinking slowly.

“Why Eve… what’s the matter?”

“The Angel of the Gate said that God told us no… but now you keep saying yes, and… and… it’s very confusing.” She sat up, her head and shoulders breaking through the underbrush as she crossed her arms and looked away from the serpent beside her.

“Fine… I’ll let it go,” Crawley replied, raising himself to stay in her line of sight. “Pay it no more mind.” Eve nodded stiffly, and an uncomfortable silence bloomed between them. Eve wasn’t sure what she ought to do… or even what she wanted to do. Crawley was facing away from her, stubbornly refusing to turn her way. She began to realize that he was muttering to himself something quite unintelligible.

“What are you saying?” she asked. She said it gently, not meaning anything by it. She was desperate to start their conversation again. The quiet made her uncomfortable.

“I said,” he replied somewhat peevishly, finally turning his gaze her way, “s’what happens when angels get involved.”

“What do you mean?”

Crawley’s coils twisted, feeling restless at the thought of the Heavenly guardians. The pragmatic part of him knew that he should say nothing. Shrug this setback off and begin again tomorrow. Yes, that would be the prudent plan. The girl had mentioned the angels several times… particularly this ‘Angel of the Eastern Gate.’ To push too hard against him might be risky to all the progress he had made with her. Indeed, he was so very close to his goal. But if he did this just right… it might be worth the risk.

“Let me guess… shoulder-length blonde curls? Perfect downy white wings? Nose stuck in the air like he’s better than any other creature in creation? Not a single original thought in that perfect, boring head, I’ll bet. Doesn’t have a single thing to say to you or Adam except ‘don’t touch’, does he? Much too concerned with keeping those pretty white robes from smearing at the hem. Angels are too pure to let their feet touch the base earth, don’t you know. Not like me.” He glanced down where his red belly scales gripped the dirt. “Or you,” he added, glancing to where the soil of the Garden dusted her bare toes.

“That’s NOT what he’s like,” Eve said. She felt her cheeks begin to grow warm, her heart beating quickly. She could almost feel it pounding in her throat. “You don’t know him. He’s very kind.” Seeing the color growing in her cheeks, Crawley scoffed and shook his head.

“I know angels, Eve. More than you do. Arrogant, self-righteous pricks who care more about following the Great Plan than doing what is good…”

“That’s enough!” Eve’s chest was heaving as she glared at him, her arms crossed tightly. She had never felt whatever emotion was coursing through her, but she knew she didn’t like it. It was confusing. “Apples and angels… you talk too much about things you shouldn’t! I don’t want to talk with you anymore. Go away!”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Crawley said quietly, drawing back. “I apologize, Eve. I wish you happiness, you and your Adam. May you give each other every joy.” With just a few strokes of his tail, he slipped out of sight in the underbrush. A brief rustling showed his path, and then like that, he was gone and Eve was alone.

That night, Eve sat across from Adam as they waited for the angel to come and light their fire. Adam was busy looking at a feather he had found, running his fingers over the soft barbs, watching the fading light glint off the vivid colors. Eve watched him for a while, and then cleared her throat.

“Adam,” she started. He glanced up, smiling as he met her eyes. “Have you ever wondered what’s outside of the Garden?”

His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, and then he laughed and returned his attention to the feather in his hands. “There’s nothing outside of the Garden,” he chuckled. “Why would there be anything out there? We have everything right here!”

“But if there was… what do you think there would be?”

Adam shrugged, glancing back at her. “Why?”

Eve huffed. She rubbed the tops of her arms, though she didn’t feel cold. It was never cold here. There was an uncomfortable squirming in her stomach as she contemplated her partner as he continued to play with the feather. It was never this hard to talk to Crawley. Didn’t Adam have any curiosity? The thought of the serpent made her eyes prickle in a way she didn’t like. She rubbed them hard with the back of her hand, hoping that it would go away. Why had she gotten so angry at him? Regret washed through her, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

Behind her, a rustling in the underbrush cut through the emotions coursing through her. She leapt to her feet, a wild smile on her face as she turned, grateful that Crawley must have forgiven her. He was back! But as a white robed figure stepped into the clearing, her heart dropped, the sadness crashing back into her with double the disappointment.

“Good evening!” The angel smiled widely at the two humans as he approached. His pearlescent wings were arched behind him gracefully. His white hair was short and fluffy, and he had the most gentle blue eyes. In one hand he grasped a flaming sword as the other pulled up the edge of his robes to keep it from the dirt. One sandaled foot peeked out from the golden edged hem.

“Ah! Aziraphale!” Adam stood, grinning, and moved away from the small pile of wood that waited in the center of the clearing. “How are you?”

“Well, thank you. And yourselves? Doing alright?”

Adam nodded, holding out the feather he found for the angel to inspect. Aziraphale nodded indulgently at it, and then moved to the waiting fire pit and, bringing forth his sword, touched the flames to the wood until a merry blaze crackled into life. Yellow light filled the darkening confines of the Garden, and the light danced through the angel’s white curls until it looked like he had a glowing halo around his brow.

“There, now! That should do. Is there anything else either of you need?” Adam shook his head, and with a final beatific smile Aziraphale turned back towards the East and took a step into the surrounding forest. Before he could move further, Eve rushed forward and grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait!”

The angel stopped in his tracks and turned her way, brow furrowed in concern.

“Aziraphale, will you speak with me a while?”

“Oh… well, I suppose that would be alright. But it mustn't be for too long, I have to get back to the Eastern Gate. Can’t have anything trying to slip in!” He bounced a bit as he spoke, and his smile was warm and friendly. He was the only angel that came near the humans. The other angels didn’t seem to be very interested. They must be all too involved with their mission, Eve thought. Guarding the walls against… well… she didn’t really know. Whatever was out there, she supposed. With a pang, she thought of Crawley. He would know what was out there. He knew so much. A wave of sadness rolled over her as she regretted sending him away. She didn’t even know how to find him again. What if he never came back?

The angel stepped away from the light of the fire and led her into the darkness of the Garden, leaving Adam to his own devices. In the gloom the angel shimmered with a soft light, illuminating the night. Not far from the clearing he found a large rock and settled himself on it, wings splayed out behind him.

“Now,” he said genially. “What do you want to talk about?”

It took a while for Eve to settle herself. She stood uncomfortably before Aziraphale for a moment, and then tried to sit next to him on the stone, and finally slid down to kneel at his feet. That was best. She could look up into his face, but it would be easy enough if she had to turn away from his grace.

“Why can’t we eat from the tree in the middle of the Garden?” she asked finally. She was worried that the angel would be angry… he had been the one to tell her and Adam that they weren’t to eat of it in the first place, and she feared that he wouldn't want to repeat himself, but the smile he turned her way seemed full of infinite patience.

“But that’s so simple, Eve. God said not to. And so, you must not! It’s all part of the ineffable plan!” Eve nodded slowly, trying to puzzle out what ineffable might mean.

“But what would be the harm in knowing things? In asking questions and learning about all the animals and plants of the Garden so that I could appreciate it more? Or about the… the… lands outside of the wall?”

Aziraphale’s gentle expression hardened slightly as he listened.

“Who have you been talking to?”

Eve bit her lip. She didn’t want to get the serpent into trouble. He was her friend… the only one she had, and it was so lonely here in the Garden without him. He had told her such marvelous things. And with every story he told, the more Eve wanted to know. If she told Aziraphale about him, the angel might make him leave, and then… what would she do? Maybe he was already gone. Her gaze traveled around the area and at long last settled on the beautiful blue eyes of the angel, and she burst into tears.

“Oh, goodness.” Aziraphale slid off the rock and crouched down next to her. He took her hands and held them. His grip was warm and gentle, but it only made Eve cry harder. “What is the matter, dear?” he asked.

“I.. I… think I did something… wrong,” she wept.

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s possible,” he consoled her kindly.

“Why are my eyes leaking?”

“Those are called tears,” Aziraphale explained. His hand was soothing as he rubbed her bare back, trying to calm her. “They're for when you’re sad. Now, tell me, won’t you? What is this all about?”

It took a few minutes for Eve’s tears to subside. Her breathing wound down to a soft hiccup, and she wiped the tears roughly from her face. “I… I met a serpent,” she explained. Aziaphale stiffened, but Eve didn’t notice as the words began to bubble up in an unstoppable stream. “We’ve been talking, and he’s so kind, and interesting, and he knows so many things… but I sent him away and now I’m worried that I won’t ever see him again, and I miss him. He was my… my… friend, and I shouldn’t have, and now I don’t know where he is, or how to find him. What if he left? What if he never comes back?” With a wail, her tears redoubled.

***

Aziraphale waited quietly as he continued to try and console her. His brow was furrowed with worry… this was the first time he had seen one of the humans express these kinds of emotions. He hadn’t even realized they were capable of it. He was at a little bit of a loss. Few of the other angels ever showed feelings of any kind, and he had learned long ago to hide his own behind a gentle smile. The last time he had let himself cry was after the Great War, he supposed. When he had watched the Starmaker led to the edge… Roughly he shook his head. It wasn’t worth thinking about that. His own tears were not something that Eve needed to see now. And it had been such a long time ago.

This serpent, though… that was definitely a cause for concern. He was quite certain that there had been no mention of serpents when the animals were placed in the Garden. His mind began whirling at the implications of the news, but before he could begin to formulate any ideas Eve’s tears were beginning to slow, and he set his concerns aside for later.

“I’m sure things will turn out right,” he said, his voice warm and calming like a balm over her jangled nerves. “May I ask… what is it that you were fighting about?”

“Oh… a few things.” She wiped a hand under her nose as she sniffled, the last few tears running their course down her cheeks. “He keeps talking about those apples… and he doesn’t like angels very much.”

“Indeed.” Conclusions were forming in Aziraphale’s head, but he tried to keep his voice even. “What did he say about us?”

“That you’re ‘arrogant, self-righteous pricks’. But I don’t know what that means. And that you’re better than Adam and I because your feet don’t touch the earth.” Her eyes drifted down to where the heels of his sandals appeared from under the hem of his robes as he knelt next to her. Aziraphale cleared his throat as he stood, reaching down to help Eve back to her feet. As he did so, her gaze shifted to the large dark stains on his pristine robes from where his knees had pressed into the dirt.

“Well, it’s only his opinion, I suppose,” Aziraphale sighed, reaching down to wipe at the stain.

“He really is kind… he just doesn’t understand about angels.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale said gently. “If this… serpent… is truly your friend, as you say, then he will not stay away for too long. Have you thought about just apologizing to him when he returns?”

“I don’t know what that is,” she admitted.

“Well… it’s saying that you’re sorry. Yes,” he held up a hand as she started to interrupt. “You don’t know what that is, either. Sorry is what you say when you have done something to hurt someone, even if you didn’t mean to, and you feel bad about it. It starts with sorry, and then moves on to making amends. That is, trying to fix whatever was hurt.” He looked at her seriously, his blue eyes electric in the darkness of the evening. “Do you think you might try it?”

Eve’s smile was a bit wavery, but it was there as she wiped at her face and removed the final traces of her tears. She nodded and then Aziraphale found himself enfolded into her arms as she threw herself into a hug, her face pressed tightly against his chest. “Thank you, Aziraphale,” she said, her voice muffled by where her face smooshed against his robes. “Do you really think he’ll come back?”

“Oh, sweet child. I’m sure of it.”

***

Crawley stared down into the night dark waters of the pool underneath the great waterfall, golden eyes reflected back at him brighter than the stars in the sky behind him. The plan was going perfectly. In just a few days, Eve would be desperate to speak with him again, and then it was just a matter of time. He took no pleasure in tempting her, at least nothing more than a professional interest; a question of showing off his skills, nothing more. To be honest, he felt a bit confused. The lords of Hell had been very clear what he was to do here… and at the time he had agreed readily. Anything to get out of Hell, even for a little bit. But now that he had met her, he felt a twinge of … well, something. He wasn’t really sure. Guilt, maybe, or possibly shame.

Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the soft footfalls behind him until a gentle voice called out, “Let there be light.” A blinding radiance flared to life, and the black serpent found himself at the center of a cylinder of light. Crawley narrowed his eyes to slits against the pain of the sudden brilliance. This was bad. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he began to writhe as he frantically calculated his way out. There was only one possibility who this could be… one of the angels had found him.

At the edge of the pool of light Aziraphale stepped forward, looking down at Crawley. As Crawley’s eyes adjusted to the brightness and the angel’s form resolved, his breath caught in his throat. The white hair, short and softly curled, the curve of those wings… and that smile. That smile that lived as a secret in his heart, and had since before the Beginning, was unmistakable.

“I know you,” he hissed before he could stop himself. As soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth he snapped his jaws shut, but it was too late. The angel was taken aback. He stared down at the serpent in confusion, a frown creasing his aristocratic features. Just the sight of him made Crawley’s heart do a little flip-flop in his chest.

“You know me?” the angel asked, confused. Another step closer, and Crawley drew back. The angel stopped as their eyes met… and to Crawley’s surprise, recognition flickered in the blue eyes. “Oh, my goodness,” the angel breathed, half prayer and half despair. “Oh, my dear… It’s you.” Crawley slowly began to move closer. He couldn’t help himself. It had been such a long time. “I never thought I’d see you again, Star-”

“NO!” Crowley snarled, and the vehemence in his voice stopped the angel with the name trembling on his tongue. “Don’t say it. That’s not my name. Not anymore.” He turned and darted into the waiting darkness, his cool scales sliding effortlessly across the stones in his desperation to be away.

“Wait!”

Every instinct that Crawley possessed was screaming at him to keep moving, disappear into the darkness of the Garden. Maybe even go to ground, back to Hell and return when some time had passed. But… It was Aziraphale. He had missed the cherub so in the long years since his Fall. With a tiny sigh and a shake of his head he stopped, turning back and raising himself up enough so they could talk.

“So.” He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even. It wouldn’t do for Aziraphale to know how much he had longed to see him again. “You’re the ‘Angel of the Eastern Gate,’ I take it.” Try as he might to seem relaxed, his voice was forced and tight. Crawley grimaced at himself.

“Yes…” The angel looked caught between being sheepish and proud.

“That’s great… an honor. Really, uh, splendid.”

“Oh! Well, that’s very kind of you.” A smile lit up Aziraphale’s face, and Crawley’s heart did that funny little flutter again to see the beauty of it. But the smile flickered quickly. “And you must be the one who’s put Eve in such a state.”

Another jab of shame settled in his belly to hear it put into words in that voice he hadn’t heard for so long. He dropped his gaze and nodded. “Are you going to smite me?”

“No! Of course not. I could never…”

“The others won’t like that. You’re supposed to smite me. I’m a demon.”

“... I know what you are. But you were an angel, once.”

“There’s nothing left of the angel you knew.” An uncomfortable silence descended on them for a moment. “How d’you know it was me?”

“How could I do otherwise?” Aziraphale’s voice was so soft, Crawley almost couldn’t hear it. “I have thought of you every day since… since…” His voice cracked, and he fell silent, turned slightly away from Crawley’s golden eyes. His fingers twined nervously in his robes as he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. His eyes flicked up towards the Heavens, and then he cleared his throat, one hand moving to uncomfortably rub the back of his neck. “Well… I should…” He stopped again, struggling to find the right words, those that wouldn’t give too much away or leave too much unsaid. He sighed, shoulders drooping. “I suppose I must be getting back. To the Wall, that is…”

“You’re not gonna to kick me out?” Crowley was incredulous. “Or stop me? You know what I’m doing here, don’t you?”

“Would you get into trouble if I did? With… Below?”

The very thought made Crawley’s scales shudder uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he allowed. “A bit.” Inwardly he cringed. It would be more than ‘a bit.’ The Lords of Hell would be furious if he was found and expelled… might actually be better for the angel just to smite him right here.

“Then I think that the best course of action is for me to trust to the Great Plan.”

“Back to the wall, then?”

“Yes, indeed. Can’t have anything… well, anyway… it’s my duty.”

“Goodnight, then… Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled a final time, the brightness of it soothing Crawley in a way that he hadn’t felt since his Fall. It had been quite an evening - thinking he was getting caught, meeting Aziraphale again after so long, realizing the angel had missed him. He was feeling quite frazzled and definitely out of sorts. But that smile… he sank into it like a warm bath. Aziraphale turned and began to make his way back towards the wall, when he stopped suddenly and half-turned, brow furrowed as he remembered something Eve had said.

“Did you actually call me a ‘self-righteous prick’?”

***

Eve wandered aimlessly, letting her feet move without thinking about where they were taking her. Aziraphale had said that he was sure Crawley would return, but it had been days now with no sight of the serpent. She had taken to circling the Garden as soon as the sun rose, always keeping to the shaded areas that she knew he preferred, and not stopping until the light faded into the evening gloom, prompting her to return to their clearing.

She had wandered for hours this morning, lost in her thoughts, replaying their fight over in her mind and cringing every time she remembered sending him away. Exhausted, she came to a stop and looked around. She was surprised to find herself near a place where she and Crawley had met many times. All the memories of those conversations hit her like a tidal wave, and she could feel the breath hitch in her chest.

For a while she stood and let the sounds of the Garden wash over her, but even that made her feel lonely. Crawley would know the names of all the different birds that sang, or the creatures that wandered by. She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the glimpse of black scales breaking though the leaves, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Crawley!” Eve looked caught between tears and delight, and she rushed towards the serpent as quickly as her feet could carry her. Much to her dismay, the serpent took one look at her and began to slither off in the opposite direction. Her heart constricted as she watched him turn from her, and she threw out her arms towards him and ran, desperate to catch him before he disappeared from view. “Wait!” she pleaded.

The serpent froze, and then slowly turned his head her way, eyes narrowed as he watched her approach. He coiled his body beneath him until he was as small as a giant serpent could get.

“Eve,” he said. His voice was lazy, almost bored. “What can I do for you this afternoon?”

The tone he used left her uncomfortable. It was so cold, unlike their previous conversations. She bit her lip in consternation before taking a deep breath. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, the words falling out of her mouth in their haste. The fear that he would simply slip away before she could say everything was agony to her, and she was blurting everything out. “I said things that hurt you, after you’ve been so kind to me.”

The sounds of the Garden pressed in around them as she waited for a response. But she waited… and waited… the golden eyes of the serpent never left her, but he made no move to speak.

“So…” She faltered. She hadn’t really thought about what to do next. If he wouldn’t forgive her.

“Eve,” he sighed finally after making her wait in silence as he watched her fidget. He lifted his head up on his sinuous body until he was able to look her in the eyes. “I understand that all of this is new to you,” he said. “But you hurt my feelings. I’m afraid a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will not suffice.”

“What else can I do?” she asked.

“What else, indeed,” he replied. And he waited.

“I could…” She wracked her brain. “I could sing you a song? The angels have taught me a few.”

“No thank you. Celestial harmonies aren’t really my cup of tea.”

“I could fetch something for you to eat?”

He lowered his head back to the ground and began to unfurl his body, hissing as he did so. “I think not. Fare you well, Eve. I’m sure that Adam’s been keeping you company just fine, hasn’t he?”

“Don’t go!” She tried to keep control of her tears this time, but they slipped over her cheeks anyway. The desperation in her voice was unmistakable, and inside Crawley was thrilled to hear it. Yes… she was ready. He allowed himself to slide almost all the way into the foliage, stopping at the last second to raise his head over the greenery and turn back her way. “There must be something,” she finished miserably.

Crawly reached up with his tail and tapped it against his snout, as though deep in thought. He took a few slides back towards her. “You still wanna be friends with me?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk. Eve nodded furiously. “Even though I ‘talked too much about things I shouldn’t?’”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said quickly.

“I only tried to tell you about all the things you’ve never experienced. Apples and far away lands and such.” Eve stood before him, not quite understanding if this was going well or not. He sighed. “Well, without being able to tell right from wrong, I’m afraid it’s all just words to you, isn’t it? How can it mean anything if you don’t know why it’s bad?”

“But… if I did…” Eve’s head came up, a glint in her eye as she suddenly realized what she could do. What he’d been wanting her to do from the beginning. It couldn’t really hurt, could it? Aziraphale had said that apologizing was a good thing and if this was how to apologize to Crawley, that would make it good! “If I knew the difference, then I could apologize properly.”

“I suppose… yes! Yes, that'd be alright,” Crawley agreed. He slid over to her, gliding over her feet like he used to, and Eve rejoiced in the heavy weight of him. “And how will you gain ssssuch knowledge?” he hissed, his voice seductive, mesmerizing.

In answer Eve turned towards the direction Crawley knew the Tree lay. She took a few steps forward and then looked back, gesturing to him to follow. He complied, slithering next to her as she continued on. Hardly a rustle from the underbrush disturbed the quiet as they passed by, heading towards the center of the Garden.

***

The humans were gone, out through a hole in the wall Aziraphale had opened for them. Crawley’s insides squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of their expulsion. He would get a commendation from the Dark Council, he was sure, but the thought did little to please him. Alas, poor Eve, he thought. If only she could have understood, could have seen the danger in the exchange he had offered. Red flags littered the final path to that tree, but her innocence had left her color blind.

The serpent wound his way up the stone wall to where Aziraphale stood watching as Adam and Eve made their way across the sands. The slim form twisted and stretched until a tall, lanky, human-like figure with brilliant red hair and large black wings stood next to the angel.

“Well,” he sighed, squinting his still golden eyes to follow the human’s progress. “That went down like a lead balloon.”

Chapter Text

Crawley slunk along the streets of Shinar in the afternoon light, his black robes swirling around his ankles in time with his rolling gait.  It was amazing what these humans had been able to create in the few years since the flood had wiped everything out except for one little boat.  Shinar was said to be the jewel of Babylon with its shining marble buildings and hanging gardens.  It had been a long time since Crawley had moved among the humans, but when the Dark Council tells you to go, you go.

The great grandchildren of Noah were having a council, and he had been told to get over there and cause some trouble.  He sneered at no one in particular as he went.  His talents were wasted here.  These people were going to be lucky if God didn’t send another flood after them soon.  Not really the worshipful bunch She had hoped wholesale slaughter would scare them into, he supposed.  

His long red hair tumbled over his shoulder in a mess of waves and loose curls, one braid plaited down just behind his left ear.  He hadn’t changed his hair much in the last few hundred years… every time he had thought about doing something with it, the memory of the young girl that had put the braid in for him forced itself to the front of his mind.  He shook his head as the memory began to creep up on him again.  No time for that, he had a job to do.

Before long his steps brought him to the gates of the great palace.  Crawley’s eyes widened, impressed, behind the thick dark lenses he wore to cover their golden color. The building sprawled away before him. The stone was heavily carved with fantastical beasts and scenes of mighty battles, and a cooling breeze swept in from the river that flowed past.  There was a small horde of guards standing watch at the gates, but miraculously none of them even glanced his way and he slid past, his footfalls nothing more than a soft susurrus against the stones.  He sniffed deeply as a clamor of voices got louder and louder.  He could taste the decadence and the insolence on the air.  This was definitely the right place.

In a sunny courtyard, a crowd gathered before a large table, all talking over one another and not bothering to listen to the others.  On the far side of the table sat a large man, muscular and serious, with an intricate golden crown on his brow.  His dark eyes were sharp, darting back and forth across the arguing crowd.  Before him was a large map of Shinar.

“Lord Nimrod.”  A tall man in fine robes strode forward and slammed a hand on the table.  The king sat back and looked at him as the man turned on the spot, meeting the gaze of as many of the crowd as he could.  “What are we discussing here?  We have built a mighty kingdom from the destruction that our great-grandfathers survived.  They were left with nothing!  And now from the muck we have built a mighty kingdom.  One that rivals all others on earth.  What have we to prove?  Our very existence shows our superiority.  Why should we care if God is watching or not?  We are here, and we prosper!”

“Because I wish it!” the king replied.  “No kingdom on Earth can compare to us.  Why should the kingdom of Heaven be any different?  It is my desire to build something so impressive that God Himself must take notice of our greatness.  I demand we make a wonder so grand that the Heavens tremble, and even God stands in awe of the might of Shinar and Nimrod.”

“A wall around the city that no invaders could breach?”

“A garden that houses every plant that grows on Earth, to mirror the ark that our forefathers built?”

“A statue of your lordship that surpasses any other in size and skill?”

“What makes you think God would even pay attention?”  Crawley leaned against the column behind all the courtiers where he had settled when he had first entered the courtyard to wait for his moment to strike.  His voice easily carried through the noise of the disagreements, silencing the crowd.

“And who are you?”  King Nimrod leaned forward in his chair, trying to get a better look.

“You know who I am, certainly?” he replied, confidence ringing in his voice.  There was a subtle movement of his fingers, and the king blinked his eyes several times before nodding slowly.

“Yes… of course.  Bulludhu, from Chaldea.”  A murmur ran through the assembled people, those closest to the red haired man scooted to the side to give the king an unimpeded view.

“The astronomer?”  The noble across from the king scoffed, crossing his arms as he gave Crawley a cross look.  “Ridiculous.  What would he be doing here?”

“I’ve just come to give you some advice.”

“No one can just appear before the great king Nimrod of Shinar!  The nerve!” the noble shouted, but the king held up his hand, silencing him in the middle of his tirade. 

“Enough, Lord Eshuh,” the king chided.  “You are welcome here, astronomer.  Tell me, do you read the heavens?”

“I do.”

“And have you seen anything worth discussing with our noble council?”

“What I’ve seen in the sky has nothing as interesting as what I see right now, my lord.”

“Oh?”  The king leaned forward, intrigued with the mysterious figure that had appeared before him.  “And what is it that you’ve seen here in my palace?”

“My lord!” Eshuh exploded.  “This is even more folly than the wasting of Shinar’s resources on your vanity project.”  But a hard look from the king stopped the words before more could be said.  Ensuring the outspoken noble would remain silent, the king turned his attention back to Crawley, his eyebrow raised.

“You were saying, Bulludhu of Chaldea?” 

“Well, it’s just that you lot seem to be trying to stick it to the Almighty… but if you think about it, what’s to stop God from just… I don’t know… sending another flood?  I mean, the last one worked a treat, didn’t it?  Just Noah and his lot on their boat, and everyone else just ‘ah, help… glub glub glub’.”  The listening crowd burst into hushed murmurs as suddenly the idea of another destruction came to the forefront of every mind.

“Ridiculous!” Eshuh scoffed, stepping between Crawley and the king.  “The rainbow was created as a promise that there would be no more floods.”

“And you’re willing to trust that?  Keeps her word then, does she?”  Crawley challenged.  His eyes flashed briefly, yellow and hard, and Eshuh flinched back.

Nimrod sat back in his throne and examined the dark robed man.  After a moment of silence, he steepled his fingers.  “It seems like you have something in mind, my friend.”

Crawley shrugged.  “Certainly my lord already has a better idea than I could hope to conceive of.”

“Your advice, then.”

Crawley glanced at him over the top of the dark lenses that he wore, and was surprised and pleased that the king didn’t so much as shudder at the strange color.  “Would my lord like to hear such advice right here?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Eshuh who still leaned over the table, glaring furiously at him and the easy rapport he had already struck up with the king.  Catching his meaning, Nimrod looked around himself, and then smiled.

“Are you much of a hunter, Bulludhu?”

***

Crawley made his way back to where the hunting party stood in the shade, a brace of hares held in one hand.  Nimrod stepped forward, clapping him on the back.

“You strike with the speed of a serpent, my friend!” he complimented.

“You flatter me, lord,” the red haired man replied, a lopsided smile accompanying his words.  “It’s said that nowhere is there a greater hunter than Nimrod of Shinar.”  He nodded towards where an antelope and a wild sheep lay, expertly shot.  The rumors of Nimrod’s prowess had not been an exaggeration, Crawley noted.  Both of the large animals had been taken down with a single shot.

Nimrod just waved the praise away.  “I am curious,” he said, laying a hand on Crawley’s shoulder and steering him away from the rest of the hunting party.  “Are you yet ready to confide in me why you made your way to my palace this day?  It cannot be that you simply wished to irritate Lord Eshuh…  Though I admit it is a delightful way to spend the time.”  The king began to laugh, and Crawley joined him.  Nimrod led them until they were standing at a small break in the woods by the river, and across the water Nimrod’s palace spread out before them all, shining in the afternoon light.  “Bulludhu of Chaldea… you are not unknown to me, though Chaldea is a fair journey to the south.  A strange twist of fate, that you should come on the very day Eshuh tried to deny me in the council.”

“If I’m not mistaken, my lord, you already know why I’m here?”

“I have an idea, for certain,” Nimrod nodded.

“My lord is as wise as he is strong,” Crawley complimented.  

“Pfpha!  No false praise from you, Bulludhu.  I wish for you and I to speak more plainly.”

“As you wish.  Why do you think I’m here, then?”

Nimrod took his hand from Crawley’s shoulder and moved forward a few steps, where he could see the best vantage of the palace and the city that spread out around it.  “I think,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully, as though weighing every word that fell from his lips.  “I think that you have had a vision.”

Crawley scoffed.  “I’m not a seer.”

 “Not a vision, then.  Perhaps you have seen what fate has written in the stars.  And have come to ensure that I know what I must do.”

“And what would this fate be about?”

“About the discussion with the nobles in the courtyard.  Why else would you have arrived at just the right moment to make such an entrance?”

“Why indeed?”

“So it is true?  You have seen the answer that plagues my people, and know how we might avoid the fate that our forefathers did!”  He half turned and saw Crawley watching him from behind his dark lenses, but without an answer at the ready.  Crawley glanced behind them, taking in the rest of the hunting party that was slowly edging closer to where they were speaking, his brow furrowed as he turned back to the king.

“I really think that this is something best discussed privately,” Crawley finally answered.  “Perhaps we could have dinner?  Or drinks?  Just the two of us… and then I might feel comfortable enough to tell you about the things that I have seen when I have observed the stars.  Would you be willing, my lord?  To hear what I had to say without any… distractions?”

Nimrod smiled again, looking up into Crawley’s face as he turned and began walking towards where the hunting party waited.  There was something in the king’s eyes as he caught Crawley’s… something curious, though there was more than just curiosity.  Something needy and wanting.  Feeling rather pleased with himself, Crawley turned with the king and matched his pace.

“I would like nothing better.”

***

That evening a feast was set for the king, his courtiers, and his special guest, featuring the game the hunting party had returned with.  The brace of hares was given pride of place, much to Crawley’s delight.  A fleeting memory of a certain white haired angel flitted through his thoughts… Aziraphale would have swooned to see the lavish assortment of epicurean delights.  But as soon as the thought of Aziraphale had come, Crawley quickly shoved it down.  No time to daydream about the angel now.  Everything felt like it was falling into place.

The demon did wonder if the feast that had been laid before them had been for his own benefit or as an easy way for the king to show favor towards this astronomer here to impart wisdom about the future.  Certainly Lord Eshuh, the loudest voice from the debate earlier that day who had been so unhappy to have Bulludhu interrupt his access to the king, had seemed particularly angry at dinner.  He had drunk until he was very red in the cheeks and had to be assisted from the palace and back to his own quarters.

Crawley did notice that he was the only one to be invited to the king’s personal chambers for wine after the dinner had finished.  He had to admit, he could get used to living like this.  He and the king sat on the wide porch of the king’s private chambers.  The chairs were comfortable, and the breeze from the river was pleasant.  Not to mention the wine… delicious.  As he took a sip, he was reminded of a time not too long ago, when Aziraphale had refused another rich man’s wine… a warm feeling of affection flowed through the demon as he thought about the angel in the cellar of Job’s house.  Where was he, and what was he doing?  Good deeds, no doubt.  Crawley snorted into his wine, drawing the attention of Nimrod.

“Something amusing?” the king asked.  Crawley just waved a hand dismissively.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” he replied, taking another sip to wash down the memory and remind himself why he was here. Daydreaming about Aziraphale twice in one evening!  Crawley silently chided himself.  “Just remembering something a friend once said to me.”

“Ah.”  Nimrod chuckled appreciatively.  If his quickly reddening cheeks were anything to go by, the king was already fairly drunk himself.  “One of the lovely points of wine, is it not?  The memories it can bring.”  Crawley nodded.  Nimrod looked over, an unfocused smile on his face.  “Did you enjoy the feast?”

“Certainly.  Almost felt like a king, myself.  Does my lord eat so richly every day?”

“Not at all.”  Nimrod stood and refilled their cups himself from a pitcher that sat cooling in a basin of water.  “I was hoping to impress you.  Did it work?”

“Oh, without a doubt, my lord.  Just as impressive as your hunting earlier, if I may be so bold?”

“You may.”  The king seemed thrilled at his words, the praise raising the color in his cheeks as easily as the wine had.  He stepped in close as he raised his glass and clinked it together against Crawley’s.  “Now… we have met.  We have hunted together.  We have eaten what we killed.  And now we are alone, as you requested.  Are you ready to tell me what you have seen in the stars?  The glory of my kingdom, and the legacy I shall leave behind to prove my superiority to God Himself?”

Carefully Crawley set his cup down as he looked up into the king's face.  There was something about his body posture that oozed desire to Crawley, just as it had at the riverbank earlier.  Something tense and hungry.  He suddenly wished he hadn’t drunk quite as much wine.

“Very well, my lord,” he said, his voice smooth and enticing, his true feelings locked deep inside where the king could not see.  He stood from the chair, pausing only a hair's breadth from Nimrod, letting his gaze linger for just a moment, and then strode to the very edge of the patio and gestured out at the city that sprawled away from the palace.  “What do you see?”

“I see the greatest kingdom on Earth.  A kingdom that dragged itself from the shame of its past and made itself great.”

“And what is it that you wish to prove?”

“That we are as great as the kingdom of God, and we have done it for ourselves.  Without divine assistance.  That we need no assistance.  That we stand as equals of the gods themselves.  I wish to knock on the gates of Heaven and tell God to His face.”

“Perhaps you should?”

There was a pause as Nimrod tried to understand what Crawley had said.  “I don’t… I should ?”

“Well, certainly.  I mean, how high could Heaven be?  Wouldn’t that be a feat to brag about?”

“You can’t be serious!  What, like… a tower that reaches up to Heaven?”

“Why not?  Be a bit of a feather in your cap, wouldn’t it?  Knocking on Her door to let Her know you’ve achieved the greatest marvel in human history?”

For a moment, Crowley was worried that he had perhaps gone a little too far.  It was crazy!  A tower to Heaven?  He had been an engineer, once.  One of the designers for the systems that put the heavens and the earth in motion.  And he knew, without a single doubt, that this would be impossible… but that wasn’t the point, was it?  As long as he stroked the king’s ego enough for him to try, that would be enough.  Making sure the hubris was there.  He kept his yellow eyes fixed on the king’s, and he was sure that he could see the tell-tale flicker of hunger there, and he knew the idea was taking root.

“A tower…” Nimrod muttered.  “A tower to the heavens.  A marvel of engineering that would prove that we are greater even than He.”

“Such a tower could also keep you safe, in case She sends another flood to stop you.  Something tall enough to escape the worst that She could throw at you?”

“The Tower of Bab-ilu, the Gate of God,” Nimrod said, nodding.  “You have seen this, then?  In the stars?  Our greatness reaching to the heavens?”

“The stars never lie, my lord.”

A smile broke out on Nimrod’s face.  Crawley felt a sense of pride to see it.  Pride for a job going well, to see the hope and the desire filling the king.  He didn’t want to look too deeply at the twinge of guilt that gnawed away at him.  Best to push that away before it got in the way.  Oblivious to the concerns creeping into Crawley’s thoughts, Nimrod turned towards the demon, his smile sharpening even more. 

“I would like you to stay here, in the palace with me, while we begin this monumental undertaking.”  The king took a step closer towards Crawley, so close that the demon could smell the oils that had been massaged into his skin.  “You will, won’t you, my friend?  I’d like to continue our… conversations.”  Nimrod reached out to run his finger down the intricate stitching on Crawley’s black robes, the red of the repeating snake motif only noticeable now that he was so close.

Crawley hesitated.  It wasn’t the way he usually worked.  Still, to be close… that way he could make sure none of the more squeamish lords didn’t try to talk Nimrod out of this tower idea now that it had taken root in the king’s imagination.  It was just the thing to cause a little trouble.

“If you wish it, my lord,” he replied after a moment, letting a grin of his own slip onto his face.  “I would be honored to stay.”

***

On the great fields at the edge of the city, the beginnings of a mighty tower rose into existence.  Piles of shining stone were brought by barges down the river and moved to the site on huge rolling logs.  Architects of great renown throughout Babylon put their heads together, discussing what would be needed to build such a marvel of engineering.  Sturdy beams of wood were harvested, shaped and piled high.  Messengers chosen to be swift of foot were sent forth, taking with them the news that Nimrod, mightiest of kings, was building a tower to prove himself the equal of the god of his forefathers.

On the hills outside the city, a white robed figure watched the activity with a growing sense of unease.  The sunlight caught in his blond curls as he twisted his hands tightly in his robes, his mind wandering back to the rains that had been sent to teach the humans humility.  Noah and his family had done well for themselves once the waters had receded, but the lesson seemed to have been lost among the later generations.  At least the Almighty had agreed never to send another flood like the last one… She wouldn’t send something worse, would she? 

The hustle and bustle on the plain felt like looking at a nest of busy ants… but even with all the confusion of the movement, Aziraphale couldn’t draw his eyes away from the tiny figure dressed all in black, with a shock of bright red hair that even at this distance was impossible to miss.  Most of the time the familiar presence was stationed at one of the long tables where the plans were laid out, gesturing to the builders and architects that moved between the table and the construction site.  But when the figure swathed in gold that could only be the king would approach the slowly rising tower, the one in black would always accompany him.          

Aziraphale turned to the angel that stood beside him, somewhat shorter in their corporation than he was and similarly robed in white.  They bit their lip as they watched the construction, and Aziraphale could feel them fidgeting with uncertainty.  

“I suppose you had best go back Up and let Uriel know about this,” he said gently, placing a soothing hand on their shoulder and trying to impart a sense of calm that he didn’t feel himself.

“But why would they build such a thing?” they asked, unable to take their eyes away from the valley floor.  

“I’m not sure, Muriel,” he sighed.  His insides twisted a little at the untruth, but the less the little angel knew the better.  Better for whom was certainly a matter for some debate.  “But regardless, it’s the ‘what’ more than the ‘why’ that Upstairs needs to know.  Will you go?  That way I can keep an eye on things here, make sure it doesn't get too far out of control before we can get a proper investigation started.”

Muriel nodded, and turned towards the nearby mountain.  There was a door to Heaven at the peak… Aziraphale assumed he had about a day before they would be able to return with whatever reinforcements Uriel as the duty officer would see fit to send along.

As their soft footfalls faded away, Aziraphale turned his attention back to the work being done on the plain.  His eyes locked once again onto the dark robed figure that shadowed the king.  Oh, Crawley, he thought.  What have you gotten yourself into this time?

Aziraphale waited until Muriel passed out of sight, and then set his steps for the city below.  It was time to pay a visit to his old fri… adversary.  Crawley would have a reasonable explanation for this whole tower business, he was certain.  And then they could grab a late dinner and catch up.  It had been over a century since Aziraphale had been able to reconnect with the demon, and the thought of getting a chance to see him again put a little spring in the angel’s step despite the circumstances.

***

Crawley stumbled through the dark streets of Shinar, wobbling his way back to the palace.  Nimrod had tried to entice him to yet another private evening, but Crawley had spent every night of the last month in the palace, practically attached at the hip to the overenthusiastic king.  He needed one night away before he went crazy.  Crawley stalked alone through the streets, eventually finding a small tavern where he could sit in a dark corner and get good and drunk.  This whole tower business continued to gnaw at him, and he wanted nothing more than to drink himself into a sleep too deep for dreams to find him.  The owner's wife finally had to threaten to throw cold water on him to get him to grab his final half-full jug of mediocre wine, not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be, and begin his slow, stumbling return to the palace, hoping to Someone that Nimrod had already gone to bed.

A person dressed in white took a half-step into his path from the alley just ahead, stopping Crawley in his tracks.  A faint glow illuminated the features of an all too familiar angel.  Crawley swayed as he stood, trying to decide if this was real or a product of being drunk off of several barrels of incredibly uninspired wine.

“Is that you, Crawley?”  Aziraphale moved over to the demon, glancing around like he was worried about being spotted.

“Angel!”  Crawley smiled, absurdly pleased to find the Aziraphale emerging from the shadows of the alley was, in fact, real.  Yellow eyes, barely visible over the dark lenses that covered them, darted around the area as he drew himself up to his prodigious height, searching for any others and only settling on Aziraphale once he was sure they were alone.

“Was that you I saw on the field?  With the king?”

“Mmm?  Oh, erm, yeah.  Suppose it must have been.”

Aziraphale reached out and placed a gentle hand on Crawley’s shoulder.  The demon looked down at it, gentle and supportive and so very real.  Definitely not a hallucination, then.  Hesitatingly, he brought his own hand up, laying it over Aziraphale’s.  They stood like that for a moment, and then taking a deep breath, Crawley took a step back, glancing away.

“Crawley,” Aziraphale sighed.  “What are you doing here?”

“Just… you know…”  He gestured helplessly towards where even from this great distance in the center of the city the top of the tower construction was visible.  Already the height it had achieved was colossal, higher than any building either of them had ever seen.  “Bulludhu, the astronomer from Chaldea, here to read the stars.”  Aziraphale looked unimpressed.

“A tower to Heaven?  Really, Crawley?  This is all your demonic influence, isn’t it?”

“He thought it up himself!” Crawley snapped.  “I just… helped it along, you could say.”  He turned abruptly.  He was too drunk for this.  He didn’t want to talk to the angel here, now.  Not with guilt already twisting his insides like a cat with a ball of yarn.  He stalked up the dark street, not sure if he hoped the angel would stop him or just let him go.

“Crawley, wait!”  Against his better judgment, the demon froze, squeezing his eyes shut as Aziraphale caught up to him.  A soft hand slid into his, holding tightly, bracing him as he took a great gulp of air.  “I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, his voice soft and warm.  “Has it been awful?”

“‘The problem plaguing his people,’ he said,” Crawley muttered sourly, glancing away from Aziraphale.  “There’s no problem plaguing the people here except for the pride and hubris of their king.  But the people are the ones that will pay for this.  Angel, I don’t want…”

“I know.”  

He reached up before his mind even caught up with what he was doing, moving to cup Crawley’s cheek, but the sound of raucous laughter from down the street and heading their direction startled him.  Feeling exposed with his hand raised in such an intimate gesture, Aziraphale’s chest clenched in panic.  Were the other angels here already?  Demons?  He glanced around and then yanked Crawley over to the wall to hide himself, grabbing the demon’s waist and pulling him tightly against his soft curves.  

Crawley’s eyebrows rose alarmingly high, but he complied, one arm against the stone next to Aziraphale’s curls and leaning in, blocking the angel from the sight of anyone that would come too close.  With the demon’s face inches from his own, a blush rose over Aziraphale’s cheeks.  Crawley’s yellow eyes were clearly visible over the edge of the dark lenses.  After only a moment Aziraphale dropped his gaze to the hint of pale skin where Crawley’s robes crossed over his chest.

“You need to be careful,” Aziraphale whispered.  A tilt of the head was all the indication that Crawley was listening.  “Heaven knows about the tower.  More angels will be coming.”

Crawley was silent, glancing behind them as a pair of late night drunks wandered up the street behind them, making all of the noise.  Just humans, then.  No need for alarm.  Still, one arm curled possessively around Aziraphale’s waist as they passed, the demon tensing in case he needed to chase them away, but they moved on without even a glance at the two of them pressed against the wall.  He kept his eyes on them until they passed out of sight, and then his gaze softened as he looked back down into Aziraphale’s face.

“Still protecting me, Angel?” he asked, the corner of his lips quirking up in pleasant surprise and completely ignoring that he had just done the same for Aziraphale.  “They won’t like that.”

Aziraphale shrugged, unable to meet his gaze.  “They don’t have to know.”

“How bad is it going to be?”

“I’m not sure.”  Aziraphale took a deep breath.  Crawley could feel him trembling, their bodies were so close, but even though the humans had passed on he didn’t move away, and it didn’t seem like the angel was in a hurry for him to, either.  “I suppose it depends on how seriously they want to make an example of this.”

Crawley grunted.  “Making examples is a specialty of theirs.  I’ll prepare for the worst, then.”

The silence of the sleeping city stretched out between them, inches away yet separated by an insurmountable chasm.  It was difficult to tell how much time passed with them like that, but to Crawley it felt like only a moment… or had it been an age of the world… when Aziraphale finally managed to look up into Crawley’s face and clear his throat.  

“Well… I should…”  He stopped, struggling to find the right words, reminded uncomfortably about another time, in a garden, when he had found it just as difficult to speak.  He sighed, shoulders drooping.  “I suppose I must be getting back.  To the mountain, that is… the others will be coming soon.”

“Yeah… erm, same.  To the palace, I mean.  The king… probably waiting…”

Crawley stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.  He didn’t like to think of Nimrod, not now with his angel shining in the darkness before him.  His connection to Nimrod, amusing as it was, was business.  But the angel… whatever it was that was between them, Crawley knew that it was real.

Aziraphale nodded and straightened his robes where they had been rumpled.  He reached out towards Crawley’s cheek to try and channel all the calm he could to the demon.  But just before he could feel the angular cheekbones of Crawley’s corporation, he froze.   He could still feel the warmth of Crawley’s body pressing tightly against him, and as much as he yearned for more, his mind raced at the thought of the dangers of being caught consoling his hereditary enemy.  He took a shaky breath as he withdrew his hand, trying to ignore the look of disappointment from Crawley.

“Mind how you go, my dear.”

***

When the host appeared, Aziraphale was there to greet them.  His white robes had been recently miracled as clean as he could get them, shining against the dingy pathways up the mountain.  Aziraphale was shocked to see so many angels.  He had thought that maybe a small group would come, intent on doing some research into this tower business, but a whole host?  And at their head, the Supreme Archangel himself.  Seeing Gabriel, Aziraphale blanched, clasped his hands tightly in front of himself, and hurried over.  

"Ah, Aziraphale!” Gabriel greeted.  “Excellent.  God is very unhappy about what is happening here, and I’m told you’ll be able to clear up a few things for us?”

“Oh… yes, I suppose… Well, I’m not quite sure myself, you see.  Never really spent much time in Shinar.”

“Of course not!  Decadent and godless, am I right?”  Gabriel turned and looked to the angel standing next to him.  Aziraphale didn’t recognize him.  His eyes were cruel, though.  As he turned his attention to Aziraphale the principality felt a shiver run through him.  Gabriel noticed his glance and turned to his companion with a smile.  “Yes!  Aziraphale, this is Sandalphon.  He’s here to put the fear of God into these heathens.”

“But we’re not even sure what is happening…”  Aziraphale started, but at the look on Gabriel’s face he allowed himself to simply trail off.

“Aziraphale…”  Gabriel sighed and steepled his fingers in front of him.  “Look around.  The Almighty Herself has sent us down because of troubling reports coming out of this area.  You can’t seriously expect that all those reports are simply… incorrect?”

“No, of course not… I mean, well, they’re my reports.”

“We’re just here to verify, and then Sandalphon will do what he does best, and take care of it.”

“Not to worry,” the angel, Sandalphon, drawled.  His voice set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge.  “You won’t have to get a single finger dirty.”

“Ah.”  Aziraphale gave a tight smile.

“Awesome!  Now that we’re all caught up… How about you take us out to this construction site?”

“Can’t be hard to miss,” Sandalphon grinned horribly before making a horrible sound.  For a second Aziraphale was afraid he was choking, but grimaced when he realized that it was laughter.  Aziraphale closed his eyes for a second, centering himself.  When he knew that he had his emotions in control, he smiled again and gestured ahead of himself.

“After you.”

***

The screams were so loud, but not loud enough to cover the sound of the lightning that ripped through the sky.  One bolt after the other slammed into the tower, splintering stone, incinerating the wooden supports.  Great blocks tumbled down onto the plains below, shattering on impact.  The humans that lived in the workers village at the base of the tower scrambled away from the destruction.  It was impossible to say how many had been caught in the falling stones or the fury of the storm already.

The citizens of Shinar cowered in their homes, holding one another tightly, crying, praying to any god that would listen that the destruction of the tower wouldn’t bleed over into the city proper.  At the great palace of Nimrod, Lord Eshuh rounded furiously on Crawley.  Black boiling clouds had covered the sky, and wind howled through the courtyards and hallways of the palace and the streets outside.

“Reader of stars,” the nobleman scoffed.  “You didn’t realize this would be the result of your and Nimrod’s folly, did you?”

As he swept past Crawley, heading for the safety of the interior of the palace, Crawley dropped his yellow eyes to the stones at his feet.  The guilt that had been squirming inside of him since the moment he had gotten started here was flooding through him with every scared face that ran past… particularly the children that he could see, terrified and abandoned in the streets, huddling against the walls of the alleys and cowering together.

“Yeah,” he muttered.  “I knew.”

Wings unleashed, hovering with the rest of the host as Sandalphon did his “good work”, Aziraphale could hardly watch.  His face was screwed up against the tears at the carnage before him, knowing that to let them fall would do nothing but anger Gabriel.  He was supposed to be happy about this.  At least, all the rest of the angels seemed to be.  They watched impassively, almost bored.  He tried to keep his emotions in check by searching the base of the tower for a flash of red hair, but to his relief nothing caught his eye.  Crawley was too wily to be caught here.  Probably somewhere safe, Aziraphale tried to console himself.  If anywhere could be safe.  With Sandalphon worked up into a killing frenzy, who could say if he would stop at just the tower.

Rain started pelting down on the plain.  Aziraphale could feel it running down his back and through the feathers of his wings, but still Sandalphon continued.  By the time the morning sun dawned, the storm’s fury blown away and the sky clear and full of hollow promise, nothing remained of the tower except a ring of broken, smoking stone.

Over the field, Gabriel descended, low enough for the populace of Shinar to see him, shining in the morning light, and looking every inch the Supreme Archangel of Heaven.

“Be not afraid,” he intoned, his voice amplified as to be heard throughout the land.  Hesitantly at first, and then more and more of the people of Shinar moved out onto the plain, dropping to their knees at the sight of the archangel and the host behind him.  “Tut, tut,” Gabriel continued.  “What have you all been getting yourselves into?”

***

Crawley sat sprawled out on the grassy plain, his black robes pooling around his legs.  Aziraphale sat near him, arms clasped around his knees.  The fallen remains of the tower still smoldered at the other end of the plain.  Several humans were picking through the destruction, but no one came near the angel and the demon.  Crawley’s dark glasses were on the ground next to him as he sighed and looked up, watching the smoke from the tower curl into the air.  The Dark Council will be pleased, he thought.  Maybe another commendation in it for him… but the thought just made him squirm uncomfortably.  Poor Babylon.  It would be many ages until it could once again claim the majesty that it had lost today.

“I do wonder,” Aziraphale said, drawing his attention, “how things will change now that they can’t all understand one another.”

“They’ll make do,” Crawley replied.  “They always manage, Angel.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?  I seem to understand all of them.  You?”

“Mm-hmm, same.”  Silence fell for a moment.  Crawley cleared his throat.  “Angel… aishiteimasu yo.”

“Hmm?  What’s that, my dear?”

“Nothing, Angel.”  He looked out over the plain, away from the destruction.  “It’s a nice day, that’s all.”

Chapter Text

Crawley slowly sauntered up to the walls of the city. He tried to relax, to look like he was in his element, but the figure beside him made his skin crawl just being close. Pale hair and pale skin, with eyes so black they seemed to drink in the light around them, his companion was as different from Crawley as possible. They stood at the edge of a large plain, contemplating a city that rose from the grasses. Not too far away, the lights of several more cities seated on the plain were visible. The two dark robed figures stood quietly for a moment until the pale one leaned over and spit. His saliva sizzled hotly against the ground, and he grunted as he crossed his arms, once again looking at the city.

“What a dump,” Duke Hastur sneered. “Shouldn’t be too hard to complete this mission. Within six months, we shall have them.”

“Mmm, yeah…” Crawley shot the duke a look out of the corner of his eye. He hunched over and drew his robes more closely around himself. “Dunno why both cities need to fall… seems a bit… you know.”

Hastur turned and regarded Crawley coldly, his huge onyx eyes unblinking as he leaned in. “Knew you’d be useless,” he growled as he breathed in Crawley’s face. “You listen, you flash bastard, this whole city will fall, and the one next to it, too, and the other three as well. Or I’ll be sure to tell the Dark Council exactly how you’ve gotten cold feet.” He sneered nastily as he saw the disgust in Crawley’s yellow eyes. “Tell them how you’ve gone soft, feeling sorry for them. You’ll be stuck in the dung fields until you can’t even remember what the smell of fresh air is.”

“No need for that,” Crawely sneered back. “I’m the one who's been here since the beginning, Duke Hastur. Hardly a hand at temptations, are you? You’ll need me if you want to make it in Lord Beelzebub’s time limit. Unless you think you know how to tempt the entire plain?”

“This ain’t my first time above,” Hastur snapped.

“Oh, of course. How about a wager, then?”

That brought Hastur up short. He straightened up, blinking, and then as the wheels began spinning in his head, he turned back towards Crawley. “A wager?” 

“Yeah, why not? You take Gomorrah over there, and I’ll take Sodom,” he nodded at the sleeping city before them, “and you’ll see that sometimes it just takes… a soft touch.”

“A soft touch,” Hastur repeated, the nasty look on his face less confident than it had been before. “Fine. Why don’t you show me how it’s done, then.”

“My pleasure.” Crawley purred the last word, voice soft as silk, and then he turned his back on his companion and began to make his way into the city. Behind him he heard the duke huff in frustration, and then the heavy trod of his steps turned away and began heading towards the city just to the west. Better for them that it’s me instead of Hastur , Crawley thought. A soft touch… he couldn’t believe that had worked. There was nothing he could do for the people of Gomorrah now… but at least Sodom would fall softly. Saunter vaguely downwards, he supposed. He could do that. And if he could win this wager, if he could beat Hastur, it might mean being able to make more of a difference later. Satan knew, if Hastur won, he might be the one let loose on Earth, and what would that mean for the humans? No… best that Crawley do his job, regardless of how much he didn’t want to.

***

“Don’t you want more?” Crawley sat back, his eyes trained on the two men that stood before him. “Even just a little?”

“More what?”

“Whatever you want. What you need. Something just for you. What is it you dream about? Don’t you deserve more?”

It had been a little over a month since he had come to Sodom, and already word was spreading. Every day more and more of the humans arrived at his sumptuous villa, deep in the center of the city. Most of them were content to listen to his words, his questions worming their way into their hearts, always with the temptation of more, more, more, before returning to the city with a fire stoked in their breasts. A select few had remained behind… it seems that sometimes the answer to ‘what do you want’ was, surprisingly, him . The idea made him chuckle, but it was certainly flattering. He had been content to let those that wanted to stay. The nights could be long, after all. Even a demon needed a little distraction.

Crawley stood from his chair. It had been easy enough to make the living arrangements comfortable… and the more he surrounded himself with, the more the desire sparked in the hearts of those who came to him. Rooms full of comfort, decadence… and a bed big enough to accommodate. His black robes were of the finest material, and he was practically dripping in golden adornments. He could always tell by the way they looked at him which of the supplicants to his door would be pliable to his influence.

He reached out, taking each of the men by the hand and led them out towards a small inner courtyard. A small tree grew in the atrium, benches set around the space. It oozed idleness and ease. Guiding the humans to take a seat, he had wine and food brought as he spoke to them, asking them about their hopes and dreams, the darker desires that hid in their chests. Always questions. Several hours later, sated and full with their heads buzzing with the idea of more , he led them back to the great doors and waved them away as they drifted back into the streets of the city.

And yet, even at the center of the extravagance, his heart twisted. He could feel the shift in the city around him. His plan was working exactly as he had hoped, but… there was no pleasure in it for him. This was a means to an end. Hastur, across the plain, was stoking the fires of wrath in the hearts of the people of Gomorrah. The nightmare that those poor people were living in made Crawley shudder. But if the Dark Council thought that he was failing in his mission, they may send someone else to take over. Someone even worse than Duke Hastur. No, much better for him to put his discomfort aside and forge ahead. It was just a little lust, he tried to tell himself.

Still… he was grateful that there was no sign of a certain curly haired angel to witness him at his work. Unbidden, a vision of Aziraphale swam before his eyes. With a scowl he tried to push the image away, grabbing a goblet of wine from a passing servant and downing it in one gulp. He was a demon, he snarled at himself. Temptations, that was his business. Aziraphale would never understand that this was the only way he could keep them safe. A pout on those adorable cherubic features and forgiveness in his eyes would make Crawley want to sink into the stones beneath his feet. 

***

“This is so exciting!” 

Two figures robed in shining white walked through the streets of Sodom, one clutching tightly to the arm of the other as he glanced around in wonder. 

“Oh Aziraphale! How lucky you have been to get to watch as they built all this!” His eyes never stopped roving over the wonders of human civilization before him. “Can you imagine? How far they’ve come from my little garden!”

Aziraphale patted the hand clutching his arm kindly, a doting smile on his face. “It has been wonderful,” he replied. “But Jophiel, you must be careful. We are here for a reason, remember? Gabriel said…”

“I remember what Gabriel said,” Jophiel replied, pulling a face that left no doubt as to what he thought of the Supreme Archangel’s order and making his companion chuckle. “Ten righteous men. Do you suppose he meant only the males, then? Or more of a general ‘man as human’ sort of way?”

“Yes… well, what I mean is, if we are instructed to find ten righteous people, that would call into question the morality of the majority of people here.”

“But they wouldn’t hurt us, surely?” Jophiel asked, tossing his long hair in a shining curtain. “They’d have no reason to. We haven’t done anything. And we don’t have anything of value.”

“That’s the thing about the unrighteous,” Aziraphale replied sadly. “They don’t always need a reason, you see.” His brow furrowed as he realized that Jophiel was not really listening, simply giving him a smile and holding tighter to his arm. 

They stepped into the square in the middle of town. There were small crowds of men lounging around the area, but in the very center of the square was a fountain. It threw sparkles into the air as the water caught the light of the sun, and with a gasp Jophiel slipped from Aziraphale’s side and dashed to the low wall that encircled the fountain.

“Aziraphale! Look! A wonder!” He leaned over, humming happily at his wavery reflection, dipping his fingers into the water and delighting at the ripples that followed his touch. He was so engrossed in the display that he didn’t notice the attention that he was attracting from the rough looking men around the square. Aziraphale did notice, his expression hardening as he slowly began to move closer to his friend.

“Jophiel, dear,” he said, trying to keep his voice even while he injected a note of urgency to his words. 

“How do you think it works?” the archangel asked, tilting his head and ignoring his companions' warning tone. “I’m sure the Starmaker would know just by looking, but I’m afraid I hardly have a head for… oh!” He gasped as an arm curled around his waist, yanking him back off the wall and into the chest of one of the rough looking men that had been paying too much attention to the entrance of the white robed figures.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” the man cooed into Jophiel’s ear. The sour stench of his breath made the angel shudder. His hand tightened uncomfortably as several of his fellows leered over his shoulder. Aziraphale saw a spark of fear bloom in Jophiel’s wide eyes as he struggled.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” he muttered, pushing both hands against the arm that pulled him in tightly against the man’s chest, his voice shaking as he tried to smile like it was all nothing more than a misunderstanding. “Actually, my friend and I were here on some important business, so if you would be so kind…”

“Oh, I’ll be kind, luv.” With his free hand the man reached up and grasped a handful of Jophiel’s robes, tugging it from his shoulder, the fabric tearing with the force of his pull. 

A haze of red swam in front of Aziraphale’s eyes as righteous fury flooded him at the treatment of his friend. In a few steps he pushed himself up to the man holding Jophiel, and without even thinking about what he was doing he lashed out, punching him in the face and yanking Jophiel free. Pushing the archangel between himself and the fountain, Aziraphale threw out a hand as he unveiled his wings, shining white in the sunlight. The faintest trace of his halo shone through as he turned, furious, upon the crowd that pressed in around them.

“Avaunt,” he shouted. He felt Jophiel’s fingers curling in the back of his robes. “How dare you lay hands upon an angel of the Lord.” There was a woosh as he knew Jophiel unleashed his own wings, though he made sure his friend remained safely behind his stalwart defense. To his dismay the crowd continued to grow, uncowed.

“Never had an angel before,” one of the men sneered. Several of them withdrew blades, creeping forward as others egged them on. “We’ll show you a good time, you and your friend. You’re not as lovely as the other one, but you’ll do for a tumble.”

“That is enough!” Every eye in the crowd turned as an older man strode into the square, a stout staff held tightly in his hands that he clacked against the stones as he walked forward, inserting himself between the angels and the crowd. “Back, all of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves, treating guests to our city with such contempt.”

To Aziraphale’s relief, the appearance of this newcomer had more of an effect than he had in dispersing the crowd. With mutters and dark looks, the men began to move away. As the last few stragglers slunk out of the square, the man turned towards Aziraphale and Jophiel, a serious look on his face. He approached, stopping a short distance from them with a little bow.

“Please forgive them,” he said, keeping his eyes on their sandals as he spoke. “I offer you the hospitality of my home, if you would be kind enough to accept. It is not far, and there you may have the peace to focus on… whatever brings you to our poor city.”

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at Jophiel. A moment passed, and then Jophiel nodded, moving out from behind Aziraphale’s protective shadow. “What is your name?” he asked gently, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

“I am Lot,” he said. “And I am honored to be of service.” He came forward and reached down, lifting the hem of each of their robes and kissing it in turn. “This way, my lords,” he said, straightening up, and leading the angels through the city, the hard stares of the other citizens following them as they went.

***

Crawley stretched languidly and reached across the soft hip of the black haired companion in his bed, grasping for the cup of wine just out of reach on a small table near at hand. A beautiful man on his other side muttered and tried to pull him back down, but he gently swatted the hand away and stood from the pile of blankets he and the rest of his playmates rested on. Swirling the wine in the cup, he took a deep draught. Good vintage. 

Without him, the others continued to move against each other, fingers and hands and lips never ceasing. He smirked as he watched. It had been hours since they had begun. In fact, he couldn’t even remember exactly how long they had been secluded in his rooms. Even now there was no hint that they had been sated. They wouldn’t miss him. Filling his cup from the pitcher on the table, he sauntered out of the room, stark naked. Time to stretch his legs.

The last eight months had been smoother than he had imagined. Every time Hell’s minions had come for his report, he had been satisfied to hear that Hastur wasn’t finding things up here quite as easy as the Duke had thought they would be. Once the six month’s of his original mission had passed, Lord Beelzebub had sent a missive. Crawley was to stay and continue his evil work for as long as he could. A commendation had arrived with the orders. Hastur, on the other hand, had been ordered to remain behind in Gomorrah as punishment for the heavy handed way that he had carried out the temptation of the city… losing a horde of souls in the process. Furious, Hastur had muttered some nasty comments directed Crawley’s way, and disappeared back across the plain. So there it was. Crawley had won.

As he left the room, he was surprised by a couple of loud voices coming from the main doors. Interest piqued, he turned his steps in that direction.

“ ‘m tellin’ you, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Crawley didn’t recognize the voice. To be honest there were so many people coming and going through his villa, it was hard to keep track. One of the rougher louts that hung about sniffing after the most powerful person in the room, surely. And here in Sodom, that meant Crawley.

“You saw two angels here? In the city?” The response sounded doubtful, but all the same Crawley stiffened at the words. Angels? Here? It sounded unlikely… but with all the commotion Hastur was kicking up across the plain, he supposed it had only been a matter of time. 

“Did!” the first voice insisted. “Wings out and everything. One of them was real pretty. T’other wasn’t too bad, either. Those white curls could make a man want to grab hold while he went on his knees worshiping us , eh?” They both laughed lewdly, but Crawley froze at the description. White curls? His heart thundered in his chest. It couldn’t be… could it?

Without a moment’s hesitation, he hurried around the corner and strode over to where they were talking. At the sight of him, both men snapped to attention. One of them couldn’t keep his eyes from traveling down Crawley’s naked body and back up before he wrenched his eyes away to look at Crawley's face.

“Angels?” he demanded, grabbing the speaker by the collar of his robes and pulling him close as he snarled. “Where?”

“Lord Crawley!” the man squeaked. “Didn’t mean to disturb you, my lord.”

“Didn’t,” Crawley snapped, his eyes flashing hotly as he shoved the man against the wall. “Where did you see them?”

“In the square,” the man gasped, smoothing down his robes where Crawley had crushed the fabric in his fists. But Lot showed up and took them to his house.”

Crawley crossed his arms as he glared. “Then tell me exactly how to get to this house.”

***

Twenty minutes later Crawley was rushing through the streets of Sodom, holding the hem of his black robes up around his knees as he raced towards Lot’s house. It wasn’t hard to find. Word had spread quickly about the new arrivals; before him a crowd was already beginning to form and he was still two streets away. A little wiggle of his fingers, and miraculously a path just big enough for him to slip through opened up all the way to Lot’s door. 

Glaring at the humans that pressed in he snarled, letting a scrap of his demonic nature show through, forcing them back a few steps. With a final hiss he turned and pounded on the door. “Angel?” he called out. “ ‘Ziraphale? ‘S me! Open up, I gotta talk to you.”

There was a silence, and then the scraping of a lock being pulled back. The heavy door opened just enough to reveal a glimpse of a young woman with long brown hair tumbling down her back, her large eyes fixed on Crawley.

“Please, mi’lord,” she said, dropping into a shallow bow. “My father says to take me and my sister if you must, but to leave our guests alone.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Crawley snapped, and he brushed past and strode into the house. 

When he stepped out into the main room, there stood Aziraphale. His robes gleamed in the dim light, pale curls illuminated by the fire flickering in the hearth. He was clearly deep in thought, pacing slightly as he rested his chin in his hand, a sad look on his face. When Crawley moved into the room itself, he looked over as a smile slid onto his face.

“Crawley!” he breathed, his storm grey eyes softening. Then the moment passed, and a familiar pout settled into place. “Is this all your work, then?” he huffed, his hands on his hips as his wings flared out. Crawley wasn’t used to seeing him in his angelic glory… usually when they ran into each other Aziraphale was playing human. Crawley glanced around the room. An older man and his wife were watching them closely, along with the young woman that had opened the door for him and another who was clearly her sister. 

“Trust me, Angel,” he replied, shaking his head. “It could be so much worse. Least it’s just a bit of lust gone unchecked. You don’t even want to know what’s happening over in Gomorrah… like a purge every night. Surprised Hastur’s left anyone there at all, though I s’pose Beelzebub wouldn’t appreciate that very much.”

“Aziraphale? What are you doing?” A new voice rang out, a familiar one. One that Crawley hadn’t heard in a very long time. Oh yeah , Crawley remembered too late. Two angels. From one of the hallways the other angel stepped forward. His pristine robes were torn about the shoulder, displaying a positively indecent amount of skin as he hurried to Aziraphale’s side, clutching at the Principality’s gleaming white sleeve. “Do you know this… demon ?”

Crawley opened his mouth, retort ready about the obscenity of a slutty shoulder, when the words died on his tongue. Even in the dim light and the millenia that had separated them, there was no mistaking Jophiel. The archangel had been one of Crawley’s best friends when he had still been… well… before. The perfect waves of his soft brown hair, pearlescent wings… even his expression of quiet wonder hadn’t changed at all. Crawley looked down at himself. He supposed he had done enough changing for the both of them.

“Hey, Joph,” he said.

“Joph?” Jophiel’s head snapped back as though he had been slapped. “No one has called me that since… since… oh my…” He took a step closer, his hand reaching out towards Crawley helplessly. “It can’t be,” he whispered.

“Yeah… hi.”

“Starmaker?”

“Ngk… ‘s Crawley now. Stopped being, well, him, long time ago.”

Jophiel’s eyes sparkled with sudden tears. Crawley froze as slowly the angel brought his hands up, lightly drawing them over Crawley’s features, running them through his long red tresses, along his cheekbones. Jophiel’s breath caught as he looked deeply into Crawley’s eyes, gleaming in the darkness like pools of molten honey.

“It is you. I see you.” Jophiel took his hands, holding them tightly in his own, and laid them against his chest. “I have missed you.” Crawley felt his cheeks burning at the earnestness in the angel’s words, but he squeezed Jophiel’s hands tightly before he let go again. He snapped his fingers, pulling power up from below, and the tear in Jophiel’s robes stitched together without a single thread out of place. He gave Jophiel a shy, lopsided smile, then turned back to Aziraphale, his face hardening once more.

“I assume I know what you’re both doing here, then?” he asked, grimacing at the huskiness of his voice as he spoke through the emotions that were threatening to choke him. He glanced at Aziraphale, who appeared positively overjoyed at his reunion with Jophiel. The question caused Aziraphale to grimace and look uncomfortably at Lot and his family, huddled in the corner of the room and trying not to attract the attention of the ethereal creatures in their home. Before he could say anything, there was a loud pounding on the door, and the sounds of the crowd outside began to filter through the house.

“That crowd’s nothing to play with,” Crawley muttered, moving towards the hallway that led back to the door. “Well, Angel?”

“They know that Sodom has fallen to wickedness,” Aziraphale replied, striding up to stand next to Crawley. “We need to find ten righteous men, or the city will be destroyed.”

“Sandalphon standing by, then? Ready for some smiting?”

“Unfortunately.”

Crawley turned back towards Aziraphale, his eyes flaring with his intensity. “You won’t find ten, Angel. You won’t find five. Lot and his family here might be the only ones left. Gomorrah won’t be any better, either. None of the cities on the plain.”

“But we have to look! We have to try.”

“You step out those doors, that crowd will have their way with you. Both of you,” he said gruffly. “Know you can take care of yourself, Angel, but still… don’t want you to… I… Aziraphale.” He looked up, a confession tripping on the tip of his tongue, when a giant boom sounded from outside. The house shook all the way to its foundation. Lot and his family were thrown to the ground, Crawley stumbling into one of the pillars holding up the roof and grabbing on to steady himself. Even the angels were knocked off balance.

“Well… looks like your time is up,” Crawley snorted. “They’re not waiting for your report this time.”

“That is ridiculous!” Jophiel crossed his arms, a frown creasing his brow as the injustice washed through him. “What if we had accomplished it? Ten righteous men! That’s what they said! If Sandalphon has already begun the destruction of the plain…”

“Mmm, yeah.” Crawley nodded. “Gabriel never expected you to locate them. Bit of a waste of your time, eh?” Jophiel was quivering in fury at the realization. “Sorry. Looks like Gabriel is still just as much of a wanker as he used to be.”

“What do we do?” Aziraphale asked, stepping close to Crawley. “We can’t let Lot and his family take their chances here. We were sent to find him, and we will keep him safe.” Beside him Jophiel nodded, his face set with a very similar expression to Aziraphale. Crawley remembered how stubborn he could get when he wanted to. With a sigh, he turned to where Lot was struggling to regain his feet.

“You. Human. Is there another exit from this house?” Lot nodded, pointing further into the home. The banging on the front door redoubled, mixed now with screams and shouts as another blast shook dust from the ceiling. “Right. You two, take them out through the back. I’ll hold them off while you go.”

“Crawley, wait!” Aziraphale gently took Crawley’s head in his hands. Gently he bent the demon’s head forward until he was able to lay a chaste kiss on his forehead. “To keep you safe,” he said, glancing away shyly. Crawley’s heart did a little flip in his chest to see the blush that colored the angel’s cheeks. “May you escape his attention as you make your way out of the city.”

“Thanks, Angel,” he mumbled. He cleared his throat noisily and lifted one hand to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Don’t stop on the plain. If he’s here for Sodom he’s here for the other cities, as well. Take them all the way to the mountains. I’ll follow when I can.”

Aziraphale nodded, and then turned away, beginning to usher the humans through the house. As they disappeared down one of the darkened corridors, Jophiel approached Crawley and took his hand once again. 

“We will meet again,” he promised, shining softly in the darkness. “We have not found each other again after all this time for this to be goodbye.” And then he spun on his heel, following where Aziraphale had led. Crawley kept his eyes on his retreating form until they turned around a corner and were lost to sight. Then with a sigh, he turned his steps towards the front door and the frantic crowd desperate for a place to hide. 

When he wrenched open the doors, it looked like the sky was on fire. He had a horrible feeling that he was back in Shinar watching the tower come down, but just as quickly as it came it was gone again, and Crawley dashed into the streets, hoping to someone that Aziraphale’s blessing was stronger than Sandalphon’s hate.

***

Crawley sat on a broken stone, halfway up the mountain, staring down at the smoking ruins of the plain. It was impossible to tell where one of the cities stopped and the other started… the entire valley had been raised by the most bloodthirsty angel in all of creation. If he was lucky, Hastur was lying down there in the wreckage… but Crowley knew better. Hastur was an idiot, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d have gotten out before the show had really gotten started.

A figure sat down beside him, close enough their hips pressed against each other as Aziraphale heaved a sigh. His white robes were stained with soot and ash, his usual scent mixed with the sharp smell of the holy fire that had destroyed everything in its path. For a while they sat in silence, staring at the columns of smoke as they rose towards the heavens. 

“Lot get out alright, then?” Crawley asked finally, tossing a stone down the slope and listening to it clack its way down. 

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agreed. “His wife looked back, poor thing. Told her not to, but I suppose the, erm…”

“Temptation?”

“A bit too much,” Aziraphale agreed. “It was her home, after all.” 

“Smited to the ground then?”

“Smitten, I believe. And no.”

“Oh?”

“Pillar of salt.”

Crawley made a face. “Well you don’t see that every day. Can’t say Sandalphon doesn’t have a spark of creativity about him… just in the most unpleasant way possible, I suppose.”

“Indeed.” 

The silence returned. Aziraphale wriggled closer, the pressure of their corporations pressing tighter together speaking more than they could ever allow their words to say. It was almost enough to ease his guilt for the destruction of the city below. Not quite enough… but almost.

“Jophiel?” Crawley finally asked, tossing another stone so he wouldn’t have to look Aziraphale in the face. For a moment Aziraphale didn’t answer, just rubbed his hands together as he gave himself time to think of what to say.

“Returned to Heaven. It was all a bit… much for him, I’m afraid. The crowd being so… handsy. And the mission being a failure and all.”

“Seeing me again as a demon?”

Aziraphale turned towards him. Surprised, Crawley turned to face him, his heart beating wildly at the closeness of their faces. He was struck by an overwhelming desire to kiss this angel, charming in his sooty robes, but pushed the feeling down.

“He cares about you very deeply.” Aziraphale’s voice had taken on that strange, hard quality it sometimes got when he suddenly slipped back into guardian mode. Crawley wasn’t sure who exactly he was guarding. “He just… wasn’t prepared. For any of it.”

“Bit different than the garden was.”

“Quite so.” Aziraphale reached out and put a soft hand on Crawley’s cheek. “Give him time. And not to mention… he’s quite furious with Gabriel. Didn’t feel like we had a fair chance to complete the mission we were given. He’s taking it all the way up to the Metatron. Not that anything will happen about it, of course, but it will be in the records. That’s something, at least. Don’t you think?”

“Course, Angel.” Crawley laid his own hand over Aziraphale’s, and then they scooted apart again. 

“Will they… be upset?” Aziraphale asked.

“Hell?”

“Mmm.”

“No more than usual, ‘suppose,” Crawley replied. “They got what they wanted.”

Aziraphale was quiet again for a moment. Crawley recognized that pensive look on his face. He threw the rest of the small stones in his hands, dusting the dirt from them on his dark robes, and then leaned back, waiting for the angel to say what was on his mind. 

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Me?!” Surprised Crawley glanced over at Aziraphale, peering earnestly into his face. “Whaddya mean?”

“Please,” Aziraphale scoffed. “I know that we might be on different sides, but I do think I know you. This must have been a… rather difficult assignment for you, was it?”

Crowley sat forward, his eyes locked on the column of smoke that still rose from the plain. He should have known that Aziraphale would know. He had definitely been letting that angel get a little too close for comfort. Still… it was nice to have someone understand him, without him having to say anything.

“I tried, Angel,” he said quietly. “I did everything I could.”

“I know, dearest. I know. For what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

Crawley felt his throat tightening against the tears that wanted to spring into his eyes. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still thick when he answered. “Thanks, Angel.”

Together they sat, a companionable silence between them, facing away from each other but their pinkies entwined on the stone between them.