It was the holiday season, and in London, all the living souls seemed to be in a state of pure joy, from the richest to the poorest, and everybody was eager to celebrate Christmas. Everybody but one man, but we will get to him latter. The streets, since the beginning of December, where covered with the white mantle of snow, of which the purity was renewed every night, when the new layers would softly fall. The shops and public buildings where all beautifully decorated, with garlands, trees, candles, ribbons, stars and angels. Angels. It was something natural for them to appreciate Christmas time, as it was for their hereditary enemies, the demons, to loathe it. That's another point where Crowley was different from his co-workers. Not that he was absolutely overjoyed with the holidays, quite the contrary; far too many complaints about "oh, it's so difficult to conquer souls with all the peace on earth to the men of good will bullshit!" to his liking. But there was a special reason why this particular demon enjoyed this time of the year more than he should: Aziraphale simply loved it. Frankly, he couldn´t remember ever meting any living thing that embraced the festivities spirit as much as his angel. Such period meant two of his favorite things: The good feelings, love, charity, empathy, spread among the humans, and a considerable free time to spend with his best friend. Yes, some years before, they had created the tradition to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day together, once their respective sides where too occupied with their own business to care for what they both did. In that cold evening of December the 24th, 1842, Crowley was on his way to the bookshop.
When he got there, he couldn't avoid the smile that spread across his face. The windows of the shop were decorated with candles, blessed so that they wouldn´t damage books or other things, of course, and garlands of such beauty that the demon was certain that the angel made them himself. His wonder grew even more when he entered the main room, because the place screamed coziness. The walls where all adorned with green branches entwined with red ribbons, and a huge and gorgeous Christmas tree stood on the center. There was even a table filled with mugs of hot cocoa that the angel must have been offering to those in need of one.
Aziraphale really exceeded himself this time.
- My dear, you´re here already! It´s so good to see you! — Aziraphale was walking downstairs, radiant to see his best friend. He was wearing his usual clothes, but his tie, to honor the date, was changed from beige to a festive red tartan. Crowley found that funny and adorable.
- Same, angel. Your decoration is gorgeous, and I can tell the bookshop expanded in at least some volumes since my last visit, am I right?
- Yes. The collection is growing faster than ever since I opened the shop.
- Doesn't need to thank the one who gave you this idea. I don´t even know why you didn´t do it sooner.
- Boxes and boxes to be transferred. Not even the miracles I used could accelerate the process. Anyway, how does some tea and talk sounds to you?
- Wonderful.
They merrily went to the kitchen on the back of the shop, where Aziraphale made a delicious tea that was consumed through a delicious conversation. The angel was telling about a rather funny situation he got involved in while inspiring a painter, when the doorbell rang.
- Oh, I will see who it is.
- I will go with you. If it is a costumer, let me do the dirty work of sending him away.
- How gentle of you, my dear.
When they entered the main room, they were granted with the vision of a short and slightly bald man, wearing a coat and scarf that had seen better days, enjoying one of the mugs of hot cocoa. Aziraphale immediately recognized him.
- Bob! Good morning and Merry Christmas! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?
- Mister Fell, I wish the very same to you. Just came quickly to give you my compliments and deliver the card tiny Tim insisted on making. And who are you, sir?
- Antony J. Crowley, it´s a pleasure.
- The pleasure is mine.
Bob then took a drawing of an angel, made of charcoal, out of his coat, and handled it to Aziraphale.
- Thank you so much, Bob. Tell Tim that I loved his drawn. How is he? And Peter, Belinda and Martha? And your Wife?
- They´re all doing great, thank God. But Tim, unfortunately, did less progress with his legs than what we were hoping for. But he never ceases to impress me with his optimism. And he shares it with us all.
Crowley felt something that wasn´t exactly usual for himself, and practically unconceivable for any other Demon: The desire of do something good. Not exactly good, of course. At least, not bad. In general, such desire to intervene in favor of the "good" side would come in any situation that got children involved, at least since Noah's arch. And this seemed to be one of those.
- Not meaning to be rude, but how is your financial situation? Do you have enough to afford a decent treatment to your soon?
- You´re not being rude at all, mister Crowley. We make cuts here and there, and try to keep going. We do everything we can for him, but it´s been a while since Mister Scrooge raised my salary…But we receive help, sometimes, especially from Mister Fell.
- Shush, Bob. It's nothing.
- For us it is priceless. Anyway, I should be going. Goodbye, and again, merry Christmas!
Bob Cratchit hurried back to the office, and the angel and the demon were left alone.
- Oh, Bob …Such a good man. He will surely join our side when his time comes.
- Of course, Angel. Mind if I ask what exactly you've been doing for Bob and his family?
- It has been some years since I started helping the people from their neighborhood, my dear. But I got more discrete lately; the superiors insinuated that I was exaggerating… So I limited myself to the charity work.
- That bloody Archangel trying to limit you always gets on my nerves, angel. Anyway, changing the subject, I could give you a hand in the "improving the poor's life quality" business if you want. After all, lives are at stake here.
- A child´s life, you mean. I know very well your little inclination to their well-being, Crowley, and I would love to accept your help. But, what about hell?
- Not too much of an inconvenience. They think I am the responsible for the crisis in Ireland, so, not much pressure recently.
- Excellent! I mean, not for the crisis, but for you being freer. Your helping is very much welcome, my dear. And again, it only proves what I always say about you.
- Angel, for…somebody's sake! Stop calling me "nice"! You know I am not.
- Alright, alright! So, what should we do?
- Let's go to Bob's office, have a word whit his boss, just to analyze the situation. We´ll pretend to be looking for donations.
- What do you mean by "analyze the situation"?
- Analyzing how bad is the guy, and what should be our course of action. Then, if we succeed, he will become a good person, raise Bob's salary, Tim will be able to heal, London´s life quality will improve greatly with one more millionaire practicing philanthropy, and everybody wins!
- Everybody but your side, dear.
- You have known me for far too long to suppose that I actually care for their preferences.
- Yeah, that´s true. But I am still a little unsure. This could be harder than it seems.
- Relax. How difficult this could be? Remember our bigger challenges in the past.
What neither of them could have predicted was that Ebenezer Scrooge would prove to be more than a greedy old man.
- Get out of my office, you parasites! Get out before I call the police!
- Sir, with all the respect, there's no need…
- OUT!
Angel and Demon ran over the door, narrowly avoiding some cane strokes, almost slipping in the dirty snow of the entrance, barely being able to avoid ending up in the street full of carriages.
- Well, that was awful. Mister Scrooge really isn't in his best mood right now.
- You think so, Angel?
Mere minutes before being kicked out in a very unkind way, Crowley and Aziraphale had made their way from the bookshop to the accounts office "Scrooge, Marley and Co.". A young man leaving in the moment they were entering already gave an alert:
- Gentleman, I see you are looking for donatives. I would skip my uncle's office. The best you will get is a no.
- Let us check for ourselves, sir.
- As you like it.
Entering the place, they found themselves in a gray and cold room. There was barely any charcoal in the fireplace, although the man hunched over the big table barely seemed to mind. He was very old, slightly hunchback and had a crooked nose. Bob Cratchit had a big accounts book opened before him in a little table in the backroom. He was so concentrated in finishing his tasks and in warming his hands in the little candle at his reach that didn't even noticed the visitors. Aziraphale broke the silence
- Good evening, Sir! Are we talking with Mister Scrooge or Mister Marley?
- Scrooge. Marley died at this very same date, seven years ago.
- Very good. Then…
- Enough. Say what you want already and don't waste my time.
Crowley wanted to say things that could not be exposed, but the angel spoke once more.
- Fair enough. In this time of the year, more than ever, it is our duty to share what we have with those who have not.
- So, you are looking for donations.
- Yes. Which quantity should we assign for you? Would you like to stay anonymous?
- Assign this: zero!
- Sir, please, shown compassion.
- Compassion? Where is the compassion for an old man who worked his entire life to achieve what he has?
- Give away a little fraction of your patrimony would not kill you.
- If the poor want food and shelter, they should work for it. Or take benefits from the prisons or workhouses.
- Listen, you…Sir, there are lives at stake here. How do you feel knowing that your children could die because of your deliberate omission? You are one of the richest businessmen in the whole town!
- Let them die. At least they would be helping with the overpopulation problem.
Crowley felt the urge to show really hideous things to Scrooge after receiving such response, but was once more contained by his friend.
- Please, Mister Scrooge, we beg you one last time...
-Get out of my office, you parasites! Get out before I call the police!
- Your lot would get along well with him.
- Nah, some of them seem like saints when compared to what we are dealing. Anyway, as you said, he is far worse than what I have predicted. But worry not, because I know exactly what we should do. Let's go to my house.