Cowritten by Arthur Albion
1967
It had been a perfectly ordinary and lovely day up until that point.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Aziraphale asked, hoping against hope he misheard the tailor before him.
Julian brushed invisible wrinkles out of the light coloured Victorian garb, assessing it with an eager eye. It wasn't often something this old and well kept passed through the shop, and Fell had never been willing to leave the coat before. "I said, it shouldn't take too long to fix up. Restore a bit of the wear at the edges to give it a nice finish. It'll look very modern. I'll give you a ring when it's done?"
"Oh, no, thank you. I meant before that. You mentioned a heist?"
"Oh yeah, right, the goth with the sunglasses. He wanted a locksman, some muscle, and an acrobat. Can't be anything else but some kind of theft. Comes in here, earlier today, looking for a new jacket. I showed him that one there, over in the corner. Beautiful, isn't it? So many vibrant colours it practically glows in the dark! Very stylish, and it has such lovely paisley. And you know what he says? Has the nerve to ask me? Asks me, 'you have it in black?' Goths. Didn't have black hair at least, though it had to be out of the bottle that colour. Such a red, I've never seen a shade like it on a human's head. Had to be a goth though. Didn't seem the type to be in mourning, you know."
Aziraphale felt the ground spin under his feet and struggled to keep a polite expression on his face as he listened in a daze as the tailor prattled on. What on earth was Crowley up to?
"Right. Any idea if I should be concerned? It would be rather bothersome if I had to fix any damages if that is indeed the case."
"No, I don't know the target, Red wouldn't say, but I don't think you should be worried. Not many people seem to buy anything from your shop let alone take the time to steal from you. Should be a quiet night tonight for you and the ol' bookshop."
"Ah, yes, quite right. Er. That is a relief, thank you."
"Right. So, was thinking, maybe you should try something from this century? Just whilst I have your coat in for work? Might find some new look even you fancy."
"Thank you, no, I'm afraid I'm quite busy today. Perhaps next time I stop in."
Aziraphale bade the disgruntled tailor goodbye and quickly stepped out into the street, struggling to comprehend the meaning of the demon's activity. It wasn't unusual for the angel to unintentionally catch wind of some scheme Crowley was stirring up, but that had been more common in the old days before their Arrangement. Since then, they had been more frequently checking in with each other's activities and whereabouts. Especially when the other might be directly involved. At least, they had been up until one hundred and five years ago when they had a fallout over the question of Holy Water. Things had been a little awkward since then. More than a little, if he was honest.
There was no reason for Aziraphale to doubt Crowley. If anything, he trusted Crowley more than any of his fellow angels. However, he couldn't stop the nagging feeling that the demon was up to something. Something he didn't seem to want Aziraphale to know about. If that was true, then it was silly of him to operate in Soho. Aziraphale may be an angel, but he liked to keep his ear open to the human underworld. It proved very useful for situations exactly like this.
The angel knew it was probably wise to keep himself out of it, but he had unintentionally adopted some of the demon's tendencies. Aziraphale was curious. What could possibly be so important about a robbery that would convince Crowley to work with humans? Of course, it was impossible for Crowley to pull off all of his stunts alone, but in recent centuries he had rarely worked alongside humans to execute his various cunning evil deeds. Adding additional beings to his plots created liabilities and "loose ends" as Crowley always put it. Too many variables for just one demon to control, meaning too many possibilities for the operation to go wrong. Not to mention a human or two might attempt to double-cross him with humanity's ever-unpredictable nature. Human error was frequently a wrench in the cogs of evil, apparently.
Unable to shake off his gut instinct that things were afoot, Aziraphale hurried home to his bookshop and began making some telephone calls. For all of Crowley's cleverness, it didn't take too long for the angel to catch his trail and begin making links. Aziraphale was positive he only managed this because he knew which idiosyncrasies to look for given how long he had known Crowley. Crowley was as unique in the human underworld as he was in the capital lettered Underworld. Even with a few miraculous promptings the details of the heist were extremely difficult to find, but found they eventually were.
The sun was beginning to set before Aziraphale finally struck on a bit of news that truly disturbed him. He could not find the object of interest for this theft, but apparently the targetted establishment would be a church. Aziraphale thought very hard to come up with any other reason why Crowley might rob a church. He didn't want to think about the very obvious reason staring him directly in the face. Hands trembling, he returned the telephone to its cradle.
The angel began to pace the shop, hands wringing together with nervous energy as he thought. On the one hand, he stood by what he had said over one hundred years ago. Holy Water was far too dangerous, especially for a demon. On the other, it was far more dangerous for Crowley to attempt stealing Holy Water. The thought of Heaven finding out he was handing over a Holy weapon to a demon was, actually nowhere near as worrisome. It barely crossed his mind. The true risk was in Heaven, and by extension Hell, discovering the Arrangement. Discovering all of their clandestine meetings over pleasant dinners and glasses of wine. Discovering how they traded work, Crowley performing blessings and Aziraphale stirring up mischief. Discovering their fraternizing as Aziraphale himself had so eloquently phrased it. If they were discovered, the punishments awaiting himself in Heaven could never compare to the horrors that would await Crowley in Hell. No, it was all in all far too great a risk. Aziraphale could not bear the thought that his involvement would be their downfall.
However, the humans would likely underestimate the full gravity of this theft. In addition to all the messy risks of human involvement Crowley liked to complain about, there was another risk that made Aziraphale stop in his tracks and close his eyes. The humans would not know to dry and clean whatever container this stolen water would be within. They would not know Crowley absolutely could not touch a single drop. They would not know how or why he would cease to be.
It was likely Crowley had considered all these risks and had already planned precautions against such probable catastrophes. Crowley wasn't an idiot. Aziraphale knew the demon would not follow through on such a high risk unless he was well prepared. The angel didn't doubt him in that regard, but it brought him no comfort. Accidents happened. If Crowley lowered his guard for even one second, if even one drop touched him, the demon would be gone. Aziraphale would never see him again. The very idea Crowley would die made something well up inside him until he thought he might suffocate. It was a good thing he didn't need to breathe, strictly speaking.
Death was not something Aziraphale had to dwell on often, despite the death he was constantly surrounded by living on earth. He was an angel. His physical body could be discorporated, but his essence could not truly cease to exist save by celestial means. Despite his own occult nature, Crowley was a different case. There was no doubt in Aziraphale's mind that Hell would destroy him. Destroy him for the Arrangement. Destroy him for possessing Holy Water. Any reason they liked really. Or even without reason. Hell was ruthless.
Aziraphale dithered for a few hours pacing around the shop as the sun gave way to Soho lights as night took over. Fear replaced anxiety as he realised night had fallen. According to Julian, Crowley was to be meeting with the humans at some point this evening. His time was up. In an instant, Aziraphale knew that he could not let Crowley take this risk.
The angel hurried into his kitchenette, grabbed the nearest thermos out of the cupboard, and carefully manoeuvred the mouth of the thermos under the tap before twisting it on. He watched tensely for any water splashing out of the cup as it filled. His overcaution and suddenly steady hands prevented any sloshing. The tap was quickly shut off before it was completely filled. Screwing the cap on securely, he examined the exterior for any moisture. Deeming it properly dry, he cupped the thermos in his hands as he closed his eyes to bless the water within.
Releasing a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, he cracked his eyes open to look down at the innocent thermos. A bizarre sense of calm had settled over him as he slowly began to accept what had to be done.
Aziraphale hesitated for only a moment to stretch out his senses and determine where Crowley was before he departed the shop.