Okay guys, on to the next chapter! Thanks to my Guest reviewers! Glad you are enjoying this one ^_^
Part Two
Aziraphale drove out of London in Crowley's Bentley to get to the address Gabriel had left on the paper. He really had no idea what he was walking into, but all he was aware of was the time slowly ticking away. The twelve hours he had been given expiring by the minute. It was strange; being an immortal creature, Aziraphale rarely gave much thought to time, and yet now he felt that it was slipping away from him all too quickly.
It was even worse because he was just sure that Gabriel would not be leaving Crowley alone during that time. There was no way he would simply stand by and let Crowley be after everything. When he'd been taken captive, Aziraphale had learned something about the archangel he supposed he had previously ignored or just never seen in action before. Gabriel held a grudge; he was petty, and he was cruel. Especially when it was his image on the line.
Aziraphale feared for his friend.
Best to get this farce of a mission over with as quickly as possible.
Still, he had no idea what he was doing at a manor house. What could Heaven possibly want with something belonging to some human?
He thought that perhaps he didn't want to find out, and yet, he was going to have to.
He parked the Bentley out in front of the gate that lead to the property, hoping he wouldn't be noticed that way. After a slight hesitation, he took his sword with him as he got out of the car. There was no telling what Gabriel was sending him into, after all. It was best to be prepared for anything. There had to be some reason the archangel had gone to all the trouble working with Hastur and sending Aziraphale off instead of retrieving the item himself.
He waved his hand at the wrought iron gate and it swung open slowly with an ominous creak. Aziraphale stepped forward, surprised when he felt the slight tingle that was unmistakably from warding. He frowned. It wasn't enough to keep him out, but he could still sense it. He glanced at the gate and saw small runes inscribed on the bars, the kind that would keep demons out. Somewhat like the ones he had put up around his bookshop except his were meant to keep any angel but himself out as well. He had hated doing it, but it had been a necessary evil after what had happened to him.
Well, that explained why the job wasn't given to Hastur and the others. Though that might also have been because Gabriel didn't want them to know what the item was. Aziraphale felt even more worried about what he was walking into.
He made his way cautiously across the vast grounds, seeing an old car, possibly a Rolls Royce—Crowley would know for sure—sitting in the circle drive. Someone must be home.
Aziraphale paused and thought. He would probably have the best luck going in the back. However, if there was hired help, he would most definitely run into someone if he ended up in the kitchens. And yet, he could hardly ring the bell and walk inside the front door. Not if he was meant to rob the place.
He supposed a window would be his best bet.
Aziraphale sighed as he crossed to the side of the house and picked up a bucket that someone had left on the lawn. He carried it to the window and stood on it so he could see inside.
There was a hallway and no one was in it, so he decided this was as good a place as any.
Aziraphale performed a small miracle to open the window and heaved himself up and over the sill, collapsing on the other side in a rather undignified heap, the hilt of his sword digging into his hip. He stood, tugging his clothes straight and looked around, wondering where he should look. He still didn't even know what he was looking for. Though Gabriel's message had seemed to imply he would know it when he saw it.
He could certainly feel something about this house. There was more warding inside that felt like it was dampening his powers some even if it wasn't directed at him specifically. What on earth could a seemingly common squire have in his house that he would need to ward it against the supernatural? On that note, how would he even be aware of the supernatural to begin with?
Aziraphale, glancing at his pocket watch, decided that those questions could wait as his friend was in danger and he didn't much care about anything else at the moment. He made his way cautiously down the hall, glancing into each room he passed.
The feeling he was getting seemed to culminate in one place in particular and Aziraphale made his way there.
Two large wooden doors opened into the room and he pushed through, feeling another, almost painful, tingle of warding before he stopped, mouth agape with awe.
It was a huge library. Well…not as big as his own collection, of course, but still very impressive. But it didn't just contain books. There were weapons and artifacts, things Aziraphale hadn't seen for centuries. There were also articles of legitimate magic and books of magic. Some of them, he had been trying to get his hands on for hundreds of years! Who could possibly be the lucky owner of this delightful collection?
And then he saw it, or rather, became aware of it. It wasn't really much of anything to look at, but he could feel the power coming off of it—well, that wasn't quite right. It was more the potential of power than actual power, but still… Aziraphale suddenly ignored everything else and crossed the room to the locked glass case the item resided in.
He reached for it, trying to summon his powers in the warded room to unlock the case, when he heard the creak of someone's weight on the wooden floor behind him and the ominous sound of a gun cocking.
"How the bloody hell did you get in here?"
Crowley was already hoarse from screaming and couldn't even really be bothered to care when Gabriel finally gave him a breather. Breather, hah. He wasn't doing too well with breathing right now. Not since some of the holy water had burned its way straight though his flesh into one of his lungs. He coughed and choked on something thick and metallic that also burned his throat. He spat quickly to one side and his blood hissed against the holy ground.
"So how did you do it?" Gabriel asked him almost conversationally. "The holy water?"
Crowley glowered at him balefully, his body shuddering from the pain and the shock from trauma. Holes were burned through his clothing and underneath were nasty acid-like wounds corroding his flesh. His whole being was in agony, but Gabriel was making sure to be very careful to do enough damage to hurt, but not enough to discorporate him. He wasn't sure he was entirely grateful for that at this point.
The archangel snorted as Crowley failed to answer him. "Not so chatty anymore?"
Crowley rolled his head away from Gabriel, closing his eyes as he swallowed convulsively. He gave a soft grunt as Gabriel grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back around to face him.
"You know you're not going to survive this, right?" he said. "After Aziraphale comes to make the exchange, he'll be taken to Heaven where he belongs, and you—or, what's left of you—will be handed back over to Hell and whatever punishment they see fit."
Crowley blinked up at him. "You mean I won't even have the pleasure of you doing me in yourself?" he croaked.
Gabriel smiled tightly. "Hastur laid his claim. Guess you killed a friend of his."
Crowley smirked slightly, though thinking of Ligur wasn't quite as funny when he had holy water burning its way into him. "You hurt my friend too."
Gabriel sneered, pulling back. "Not without cause. Aziraphale would not see reason. I had to use a firm hand."
"Oh yeah, I saw the physical manifestation of that firm hand," Crowley spat, still remembering the horror of the hand shaped bruises he had healed from Aziraphale's skin like drawing poison from a wound. "And how did things go down in Heaven after all that? Did they use a firm hand on you too?"
He knew he was going to pay for that one but it was worth it to see the expression that crossed Gabriel's face. The archangel reached down and grabbed him by the throat, yanking him up as far as his restraints would allow and slamming his head back against the alter.
"You ruined my reputation," Gabriel snarled. "I'm still not back in Heaven's good graces because on you. My own soldiers don't follow me without question anymore!"
"Sorry," Crowley croaked. "It wasn't like that was my intention or anything."
Gabriel backhanded him and split Crowley's lip. "And that's why you'll pay."
He reached for the pitcher again and flicked several drops of holy water across Crowley's stomach. The demon howled and strained against his chains as the acidic liquid ate into his soft flesh.
When he could finally breathe again past the pain, each breath rattling wetly in his lungs, he glowered up at Gabriel. "You know Aziraphale is never going to let this go, right? He's never going to do what you want him to. You might as well give up, leave us alone like you were originally doing. I think you could agree that life was better for you before that."
He squirmed, tugging against his restraints and Gabriel, sneering, slammed his hand still wet with the holy water, against Crowley's freshly burned belly to hold him still. Steam rose and the demon gave a strangled cry as Gabriel's hand burned through his shirt and into his skin.
"Aziraphale won't get much of a choice, and, frankly, I doubt he'll have much fight left in him after you're killed. Perhaps I'll ask Beelzebub to let him attend your execution personally. What do you think that would do to him?"
Crowley bit back a whimper, blinking tears of pain from his eyes as Gabriel pressed harder. The demon hissed sibilantly, and spat at the archangel. "I think he'll clip your wings, you bastard! Aziraphale won't be broken so easily!"
Gabriel finally removed his hand and Crowley gasped, his body instinctively wanting to curl up against the pain, but he was again stopped by the restraints holding him flat. Gabriel gripped his chin tightly, leaning over him and getting into his personal space.
"And what about you, snake? Do you break easier?"
Crowley swallowed hard, glowering up at Gabriel, but knew his eyes didn't show the conviction he wished they did. The pain was too much and another tear slid from his eye against his best efforts.
Gabriel smirked, all too pleased by his reaction. "That's what I thought."
He turned back to the jug and dipped his fingers into it again. "You had better hope Aziraphale gets here quickly. Or there might not be anything left of you for him to even say goodbye to."
Gabriel slid his finger down the center of Crowley's chest, leaving a burning trail in his wake and Crowley arched his head back and screamed.
He wasn't sure he had ever felt so helpless in his entire, very, very long life.
He prayed Aziraphale had a plan.
Aziraphale spun around at the voice and raised his hands.
Behind him stood a man holding a gun to him in an unwavering hand. He held himself like he might have been a military man. He was, if Aziraphale were to guess, in his sixties, and had a scared, hard face under a mass of mostly grey curly hair, giving him a somewhat wild appearance, dressed in a simple high-collared jumper and overcoat that could contain any number of weapons.
"Now, let's not do anything rash," Aziraphale said simply.
The man smiled. "I don't know how you got in here, but I promise you these bullets aren't normal. They'll kill just about anything. So think about that, old chap, before you try something rash."
Aziraphale frowned, hoping to play dumb. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
The man let out a short laugh. "Oh, I know you're not human. I can feel it. I just don't know what you are yet. I can't get a read on you, which means…" His eyes widened suddenly with recognition. "Angel."
He suddenly dashed across the room and snatched something up from a display stand. It was a dagger with an exceptionally shiny blade. Aziraphale was slightly shocked to see that it was angelic steel. Where on earth had this man gotten that?
"Hold it there, halo."
Aziraphale huffed and simply reached into his coat and pulled out his sword, causing the man to shift his stance cautiously. "Look, I don't have time for this! Please, I'm very much in a hurry."
The man didn't budge. "You think your sword scares me? You look a little out of practice."
Aziraphale frowned, feeling a bit insulted as the man made a pointed glance toward his slightly soft middle. "Listen to me," he said. "I have no idea who you are, but a friend of mine is in danger and I need to take something to the people who have kidnapped him or they'll kill him!"
The man snorted. "You expect me to believe that story?"
"I'm an angel!" Aziraphale snapped, and released a bit of his true form, his halo glowing brighter and his wings appearing briefly.
The man staggered back a step, as if in awe. Aziraphale was pleased by the effect. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking this and going on my way."
The dagger came spinning toward him and Aziraphale raised his sword only just in time and batted it away from his chest. He dropped the halo and wings, and stood staring at the man who now only held the pistol that apparently didn't do anything against angels.
Slowly, Aziraphale reached down and picked up the dagger. He set it high on the bookshelf and then slowly put his sword away. "Now, I'm willing to talk like civilized people if you are."
The man stood there for another long second, and then finally lowered the gun and slid it somewhere inside his coat. "Alright, angel, tell me the truth."
He went over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of whisky. After a pause, he poured another one and offered it to Aziraphale.
The angel stepped forward and accepted the drink. "I did tell you the truth. My friend and I have been coerced into helping some people who don't really like us all that much."
"So you think that's an acceptable reason to break into my house?" the man asked, downing his drink before pouring another.
Aziraphale felt slightly embarrassed. "Er, well, believe me, I would never normally consider it. Only they really will kill my friend if I don't bring them what they sent me here for."
The man studied him for a long moment. But didn't say anything.
Aziraphale sipped at the drink, and then asked. "What is your name?"
The man glanced up at him and after a long pause said, "John Wulf."
"Your collection is…it's fantastic," Aziraphale said, unable to hide his awe. "I'm a book collector myself and you have several volumes I didn't even know existed."
The man smiled slightly, with a sense of pride. "Family heirlooms."
"And is that the family heritage? Magic and demon hunting?" Aziraphale asked.
The man pursed his lips and shrugged. "Something like that. Let's just say it's had a few switches in scale over the centuries, and the last few generations have mostly been scholars but sometimes we come across something causing trouble and protect the common man from in."
Aziraphale glanced up at the desk on one side of the room and saw a very old, yet well-kept sword mounted on the wall behind the desk, and below that, in a case, was the shriveled, clawed hand of some creature.
"Ah," Aziraphale said, understanding dawning, along with a bit of genuine awe as he realized who he was standing next to.
John Wulf gave a small nod. "Look, if I were to help you, what would it cost me?"
Aziraphale looked to him gratefully, and motioned to the case he had been drawn to as soon as he came into the room. "That, I believe."
The man frowned, setting his glass down and heading over to the case. He motioned to the leather-bound item. "This?"
Aziraphale nodded.
Wulf stared at him for a long moment before he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the case, stepping back and motioning Aziraphale forward.
Aziraphale cautiously reached out and picked up the item, then slowly opened the leather folder to see what was inside.
At first glance, it didn't look like much at all, despite the fact that it was still throwing off powerful signals. It looked like a map of Britain created sometime in the early Dark Ages.
But as he studied it further he began to realize exactly what it was.
"Oh, dear lord," he breathed, his hands trembling so much he feared he would drop the map.
"You know what that is?" Wulf asked him.
Aziraphale nodded jerkily. "Y-yes. Yes, I believe I do."
It was, as far as he could tell, a map that showed the location of the four fabled Hollows of England. One of which, was the Holy Grail which he had gone on a quest to find with some of King Arthur's knights and never was able to recover. However, this indicated that it was somewhere in Whales. And judging from the power it was exuding, Aziraphale would fancy a bet that all the locations were completely accurate.
Which was very, very bad.
The Hollows had inordinate power; whoever held them would have the upper hand in any conflict. If Gabriel wanted to find them, then Aziraphale couldn't imagine what he had planned. He just knew it wasn't good.
He closed the map very carefully, almost wishing he hadn't seen it himself.
"Look, I don't really want to part with it, but if your friend really is in danger…" Wulf said gruffly.
"No," Aziraphale cut him off.
Wulf glanced up at him with a frown.
Aziraphale looked around, feeling suddenly paranoid, and handed the map back to him carefully. "No. You must keep this, and you must ward it properly. Hide it, destroy it, I don't care, just… do not let it get into the wrong hands!"
Wulf looked taken aback. "But I thought you said—"
"It doesn't matter," Aziraphale spat, his heart clenching even as he said it. "I can't simply…this is too big! It cannot fall into the wrong hands—it cannot fall into anyone's hands!" He reached up and ran a hand through his hair in agitation.
Wulf nodded though still seemed slightly confused. "Alright then. There's a vault I can put this in under the mansion, but..."
"Look," Aziraphale told him firmly, grabbing him by the shoulder. "You need to ward this place against angels. I will show you what you can use, but promise me you will do so and that you will never let this thing see the light of day again. If you truly see yourself as a protector of this country, then that is what you must do."
Wulf nodded again and Aziraphale went over to his desk, quickly scribbling out several lines of sigils that would act as warding.
"This will hold for now, but I will make copies of some stronger ones for you later. Right now I have to go. I do apologize for the intrusion."
He started toward the door when Wulf called him back. "Hey, angel." Aziraphale turned, the term, so familiar and fond to him in someone else's voice causing his heart to clench suddenly.
Wulf offered a small nod. "I hope you find your friend."
Aziraphale nodded silently back and rushed out.
He was shaking by the time he got back to the Bentley, and just sat there for a long moment, gripping the wheel and forcing himself to breathe.
"I'm sorry, Crowley. I'm so sorry," he whispered over and over.
What could he do? He could risk going to the meeting point in Trafalgar Square and try to get information out of whoever met him. But he had no idea if the contact would be alone, and it wasn't like Aziraphale was planning on torturing someone for information. He could find something else and try to bluff it off as the item Gabriel had wanted. He didn't think Hastur knew what it was supposed to be, so maybe he could at least get to the archangel and hopefully Crowley. But by then, his ruse would be useless.
No, he had to figure out where Gabriel had taken Crowley. He assumed it was on earth somewhere, but perhaps he had been wrong in that assumption. Maybe Gabriel took Crowley to Heaven. In which case Aziraphale had an incredibly small chance of launching a rescue.
But there was no way he could let Gabriel get his hands on that map. If he did, he had the terrible feeling that everything would be all over. Crowley would never forgive him if he gave that over for the demon, no matter how much he wanted to.
The car phone ringing startled him out of his dark thoughts and he fumbled with it before answering. "Yes, hello?"
The voice of one of his informants came over the line and Aziraphale listened intently.
"Look, it wasn't your partner with the red hair, but the other gent you told us about. They saw him waiting around the place earlier all shifty-like."
"Where?" Aziraphale nearly snapped.
The informant gave the address and Aziraphale scribbled it down on the back of his hand, not at all caring at the moment. "Thank you." He hung up and snapped his fingers to start the car.
It revved to life, almost as eager as Aziraphale was as he barely had to put his foot down before they were off back toward London.
Aziraphale made it to the old church just as the sun was beginning to set. He parked the Bentley and looked around, but didn't see any angels or demons lying in wait.
It seemed his appearance was unexpected.
Good.
He drew his sword as he stepped toward the old church. As he approached the doors, he could hear the sounds of hoarse screams and an unpracticed fury rose up in him.
He brought his hand up and slammed the doors open with a burst of power.
Crowley realized he was at the point where he didn't really care if Gabriel ended it or not. The sheer agony of the holy water just built up, most of it staying in the wounds, continuing on its burning way through him as he lay writhing and helpless while the archangel watched with a self-satisfied look on his face.
Gabriel wet his hand again and reached out to wrap his fingers around Crowley's throat, choking and burning him at the same time. Crowley let out a strangled scream, tears sliding down his face to hit the alter beneath him.
"How much more do you think you can take, demon?" Gabriel asked. "Because to me, it looks like you're pretty much done."
Crowley closed his eyes with a choked sob, knowing the archangel was right.
And then an echoing boom sounded through the church and Gabriel released him to turn toward the doors.
Crowley's head lolled to the side, terrified that it was Hastur come to claim him, but it wasn't. It was Aziraphale instead, standing there in the doorway, backlit by both the setting sun and his halo.
"Angel," Crowley breathed, nearly sobbing in relief.
Aziraphale strode in, his sword held out in front of him, his expression dark. "Step away from him, Gabriel," he said.
The archangel looked less than pleased to see his former co-worker there, but he masked it with a tight smile. "Aziraphale. I thought we had a deal."
"You made terms that I didn't agree with," Aziraphale told him. "And besides, I decided that you could never get your hands on what you sent me to get. No one should have it, Gabriel."
The archangel drew his shoulders back furiously. "You didn't get the item?"
Aziraphale stood up straight himself. "No, I did not. And no one will now, it's long gone."
Gabriel chuckled slightly and shook his head. "You know, you two are really starting to become too much of a pain."
"Then leave us alone," Aziraphale told him. "We have no interest in thwarting you, we just wish you would stop trying to use us."
"You are very bold," Gabriel said.
Crowley watched with bated breath as the two angels postured. Something was going to go down soon and he really hoped Aziraphale was going to be able to hold his own.
Aziraphale rolled his shoulders and suddenly his wings appeared, stretching wide and magnificent, the light coming through the stained-glass windows shimmering off of his white feathers in a kaleidoscope of colors. His halo was almost too bright for Crowley to look at but he couldn't quite bear to look away from this magnificent angel who just happened to be his friend.
"If you want to fight, Gabriel, I am willing to fight," Aziraphale told him. "But the winner must leave the other party alone."
Gabriel smirked and reached into his coat, pulling out his own sword. A little newer and longer than Aziraphale's, gleaming of angelic steel. "If that's what you choose to wager, then I won't refuse. I'm just surprised you would choose something so martial as your way to get back at me."
It was Aziraphale's turn to give a tight smile. "Yes, well, perhaps I am just weary of your constant bother."
Gabriel looked slightly taken aback at this, and spun his sword in a skilled arc and rolled his shoulders as well. His wings appeared, grey like a stormy sky, his halo practically sparking like accompanied lightning. "Very well, then. Let's not waste any time."
Aziraphale took a ready stance, wings arched, and his sword burst into flame. "Let us not."
Crowley watched in horror as Aziraphale leapt toward Gabriel and the two met with a flash of steel.
And here is the much requested BAMF Aziraphale ;)
Also, this is a question for the scholars out there: can you guess who John Wulf's ancestor was? Because I'm curious to see if anyone can tell ^_^