Aziraphale chuckled, "Well, yes, but I thought it might be a nice change of pace." The angel blushed, making that beautiful beatific smile of his that could light up the world.
Chapter 12. Pain is so close to pleasure
As they arrived at the hotel, Aziraphale's heart still hadn't settled after the shock of Maggie's attack. For that fleeting moment, he had genuinely believed Crowley was hurt, that something dreadful had befallen his beloved demon. The memory of that fear was etched into the lines of his face, even as Crowley reassured him that everything was fine.
Sensing that Aziraphale was still shaken by the encounter, Crowley led him into the hotel room. Once inside, he reached out and tenderly cupped Aziraphale's cheek with his long, gentle fingers, tilting the angel's face upward to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked, and without uttering a word, Crowley leaned in and placed a soft, reassuring kiss on Aziraphale's lips.
It was a tender, reassuring kiss. There was no urgency or passion in it, just a sweet, comforting connection that anchored Aziraphale to the present moment. It was a kiss that whispered, "I'm here, and I'm safe." The demon arms around him were a balm to his frayed nerves.
It was a tender, comforting kiss, devoid of urgency or passion. Instead, it was a sweet connection, a gentle reminder that they were safe and together. The demon's arms encircling him felt like a soothing balm to Aziraphale's frayed nerves. They parted, foreheads resting together, and Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief. The tension that had gripped him since the attack began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of security and comfort. He knew they were together and unharmed.
"Fancy something to nibble on?" Crowley suggested with a small smile, releasing Aziraphale from their embrace. "I'm sure they can put something edible together for us."
Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, Aziraphale gazed into Crowley's eyes. "You know," he began, his voice soft and tinged with vulnerability, "I've always been afraid."
Crowley raised an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. "Afraid of what, angel?"
Aziraphale let out a small, rueful laugh. "Afraid of you getting hurt, of something happening to you because of our association. Even in those recent years, when it seemed Heaven and Hell had lost interest in us, I've always tried to shield you from any heavenly interference. I couldn't bear the thought of you being destroyed or harmed in any way."
"Well, you are the one who tends to attract trouble, my angel," Crowley replied, a fond smile on his lips.
"You, my dear Crowley, are rather protective as well, aren't you?" Aziraphale chuckled softly.
Crowley's smile softened, and he reached out to clasp Aziraphale's hand in his. "You know, I've been doing the same."
Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise. "You?"
Crowley nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Of course. If the powerful Aziraphale were ever spotted, I had to be warned. I couldn't risk you being caught up in something you couldn't handle."
"You know my dear I can't fend for myself pretty well." Aziraphale chuckled and placed a kiss on the tip of Crowley's nose.
He smirked softly. "Oh, but I love making a dashing rescue!"
Their shared laughter dissolved the remaining tension from earlier, replacing it with a warmth that enveloped them both. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hand affectionately.
"But, my dear," Aziraphale continued, his tone taking on a more serious note, "I know that I could fall because of our association, our friendship, our... love." He hesitated slightly, unable to say the word directly. "But I also know that you can't fall twice. There's nowhere to fall to from Hell. Only destruction." The angel sighed. "It's a fear that has kept me away from you for millennia."
Crowley's gaze softened, his golden eyes filled with an emotion that mirrored Aziraphale's own fear of loss. "I'm afraid of losing you too," he admitted quietly. "I was afraid of you hating me if you fell because of me."
Crowley removed his glasses, revealing tear-filled golden eyes. "If you fell because of me…" The demon's voice caught in his throat. "Falling is not easy, it's… it destroys you."
Aziraphale felt a lump form in his throat, and he swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. Crowley sat beside him, and the angel took his hand in his. "My dear Crowley, I wouldn't mind if I fell. I would get to be with you." Aziraphale tried to reassure him.
"You wouldn't be Aziraphale anymore." Crowley stated, his voice breaking again. "You don't understand it." Crowley said, locking eyes with Aziraphale, tears freely flowing now. "Falling from Heaven... it's not something I can easily put into words."
Aziraphale's hand moved to Crowley's arm, the touch gentle and understanding. He traced soothing circles with his thumb, silently conveying his presence and love.
"When you've spent eons in a place that's supposed to be paradise," Crowley continued, "the sensation of being cast out, of losing everything you've ever known and cherished, it's beyond painful. It's excruciating."
Crowley stood abruptly, his hands slid out from Aziraphale's. "It's like being torn apart from the inside out, your very essence unraveling as you plummet through the void. The grace that once defined you, that celestial light that warmed your being, it's all stripped away in an instant, leaving you cold, empty, and in pain."
Aziraphale stood too, not knowing how to comfort Crowley, feeling tears welling in his own eyes as Crowley paced the room in evident distress; Aziraphale watched him with a heavy heart.
"Imagine the most profound sense of loss, the kind that gnaws at your soul and leaves a permanent scar. It's like having your wings clipped, but not just the physical wings – your spirit, your sense of belonging, your purpose, all clipped away."
Aziraphale approached Crowley and extended his right hand, fingers slightly curled, in a gesture he hoped was of utmost tenderness. His hand moved toward Crowley's upper arm with a feather-light touch, as though he was tracing the contours of a fragile, cherished object.
"You fall through a darkness that seems endless, and there's no safety net, no gentle landing. It's a descent into chaos, into the unknown, and you're utterly powerless to stop it. You can't even scream, because the very act of falling robs you of your voice."
Crowley stopped moving, his voice trembling as Aziraphale tried conveying with a touch not only his physical presence but also his deep love; it was a touch that said 'I'm here with you, my dear. You're not alone in this pain.' The contact was soft, almost imperceptible, but it carried the weight of their shared history and the love.
"And then comes the crash as you hit the bottom," Crowley continued. "You transform. You turn into a foul, loathsome creature. A snake." Crowley's hand reached for his snake tattoo, trembling as he touched it. "Your physical form becomes a mockery, a reflection of your own damnation. And the fear sets in, the fear of never being able to turn back into something slightly anthropomorphic."
Aziraphale couldn't hold back his tears any longer. His thumb continued to rub soothing circles on Crowley's arm, offering what comfort he could.
"You lose your name, your purpose, your essence," Crowley confessed, his voice heavy with pain.
"You're trapped in this monstrous shape, and you can't even recognize yourself in the twisted reflection. And the worst part? Heaven punishes you further, robbing you of the things you most cherished in Heaven."
Crowley rested his back into the wall, sliding down into the floor. "I can't see the stars anymore, Aziraphale. I can't see the beautiful colors I loved. And the pain... it lingers for eternity…" Crowley's voice was now a whisper. "If I caused your fall, I… I would never forgive myself."
Aziraphale's heart ached for the suffering his loved Crowley had endured. "You won't lose me, my love," Aziraphale finally said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'll always be here, by your side. Come Heaven or Hell or anything in between."
With those words, Aziraphale moved closer, wrapping his arms around Crowley in a comforting embrace. Crowley's eyes glistened with tears, and he leaned in to press another soft kiss to Aziraphale's lips. "Don't fall for me, don't fall because of me."
"Oh… Crowley… I won't." And the angel kissed his broken and fragile demon again, softly, reassuringly, trying to convey all the love and devotion he felt.
As they pulled away, Crowley whispered against Aziraphale's lips, "I won't let anything happen to you angel."
"We'll face whatever comes our way together." Aziraphale smiled through the lingering tears in his eyes, feeling the weight of centuries of companionship and love between them. In that moment, as they sat on the floor of quiet hotel room, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they had each other, and that was enough.
Saraqael stood in the grand hall of Heaven, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the events unfolding before her. She was behind The Metatron, next to the remaining highest-ranking angels in Heaven, Michael and Uriel. Her fear gnawed at her as she tried to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
The Metatron had detected a spike in supernatural activities in a small town named Hatfield near London, something greater than a miracle. He was convinced that Aziraphale and Crowley, the angel and demon, were responsible, and that their only intent was to interfere with the Great Plan. In response, The Metatron had made a chilling decision – to start a war in Hatfield.
Saraqael's eyes darted to the gathered angels, the great white hall full of their resolute expressions. Eyes glowing with determination under the blinding white lights. Michael and Uriel, standing with Saraqael, were supposedly generals in The Metatron's army, but their dumfounded expressions betrayed their loyalty.
The Metatron was in the midst of giving a heartfelt speech, his words resonating through the hall. "…we stand witness to the downfall of humanity. A race once cherished by our Lord, now fallen into a state of foul corruption. They have strayed from the path of righteousness, their hearts consumed by darkness." Saraqael listened in growing disbelief as The Metatron continued, his words taking an unexpected turn. "But there is a truth, my fellow angels, a truth about the Great Plan." He paused, and Saraqael glanced at Uriel, who was trembling slightly, Saraqael suspected, in rage. "There will be no rapture, as there aren't any humans worthy of paradise anymore." There was silence among the angels, as if everyone were holding their breath. "To carry out this arduous task of cleaning this world of all human traces the Almighty in all her wisdom has designed a temporary alliance between Heaven and Hell." The silence continued. Saraqael was grateful of being sitting, as she could see Michael struggling to keep her composed stance. The gravity of the situation weighed down on Saraqael as she felt a chill run down her celestial spine. The Metatron's words weren't as painful as seeing the angels gathered there, drinking the Metatron's words as if he could only speak the truth.
As he concluded his speech, the trumpets in the halls of Heaven began to sound. Their resounding roar echoed through the celestial realm, shaking the very foundations of the cosmos. The moon, the Earth, and the sun's core quaked with the force of ten thousand roaring angels. It was a manifestation of divine power beyond anything Saraqael had ever witnessed.
"The Almighty's will is clear," The Metatron continued, his voice filled with solemn determination. "Go my fellow angels and prepare yourself for battle."
The Metatron, satisfied with his declaration, dissolved into light and was gone, leaving Saraqael and the other two archangels in stunned silence.
Without saying a word, the three headed to Saraqael's office, the empty corridors of heaven a long passage of light. In the solitude of her office, Saraqael finally let her emotions wash over her. "What are we going to do?" She exclaimed pained, as she realized Michael and Uriel were also paralyzed by the situation.
A smug Sandalfon catch her attention. "Surprise." He said offering a reassuring smile. The room seemed to hold its breath as she experienced the most unexpected and pleasant surprise of all. There, in her office, stood Phanuel, her love.
Saraqael's heart soared as Phanuel rushed to embrace her, their tears mingling as they held each other tightly. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated relief and joy. Phanuel's presence was like a balm to her soul, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Saraqael felt complete.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered words of gratitude to whatever cosmic forces had brought her love back to her. They had been separated for so long, their bond strained by the time of nonexistence. But now, in this moment, they were together again.
They stayed in each other arms, until their tears dried and their arms were sore.
After what felt like an eternity, Crowley slowly pulled away from Aziraphale, his hand lingering for a moment on the angel's cheek before gently withdrawing. His expression was soft, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he looked into Aziraphale's blue eyes, Crowley's personal stars.
With a sigh, he shifted his position and promptly got up from the floor. Collecting himself as he tucked away all his emotions under his well-practiced swagger. He made a show of stretching his limbs briefly, a bit stiff from their emotional conversation, before offering a hand to help Aziraphale up as well.
"Come on, angel," he said, his voice still hoarse.
Aziraphale took his hand as he let himself be helped to his feet. "We could watch some moving picture in the television." Aziraphale's offered with a tender smile.
Crowley blinked in surprise, knowing Aziraphale hadn't been a fan in the past. "A film, angel?" He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips "You? I thought you were more into dusty old books."
Aziraphale chuckled, "Well, yes, but I thought it might be a nice change of pace." The angel blushed, making that beautiful beatific smile of his that could light up the world. "Besides, I know they bring you comfort."
Crowley climbed onto the bed, laying down between the messy pillows. "Oh, really now?" He made a point to position himself so the angel could lie in his arms. "I'm sure we can find a classic that manages to pique your interest."
Aziraphale turned off the lights, leaving the room in chiaroscuro, the outside light filtered by the thick curtains. "Maybe an adaptation of a book?" Aziraphale proposed with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he settled between Crowley's arms, resting his back against the demon's chest.
Crowley was very tempted to tell the angel to forget about movies and kiss him senseless. However, the remote was already in Aziraphale's hand, and he willingly relaxed against his angel, content to let the world outside fade away as they enjoyed each other's company.
The screen blinked to life, the sound of the television news reports filled the space, the newscasters' voice carrying a palpable urgency and gravity that sent shivers down their spines. "…issued an alarming warning about the Yellowstone caldera. Previously considered highly unlikely, early signs of a massive eruption have emerged, echoing the cataclysmic events of 2.1 million, 1.3 million, and 640,000 years ago." The news anchor continued, their voice heavy with concern. "…authorities are strongly advising against all non-essential travel for the next two weeks. They are also recommending that those abroad consider returning to their places of origin, as it is expected that air travel will be severely disrupted..."
The angel leaned closer to Crowley. His blue eyes, pools of empathy, remained glued to the screen, taking in the suffering and hardships faced by the people leaving their homes.
The lighting in the room flickered as Aziraphale changed the channel, and the screen filled with a new set of catastrophic events. "…have caused unending storms and flooding in the Marrakech area, it has never experienced such devastation…" Crowley instinctively drew Aziraphale closer as the angel changed the channel again, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the walls, revealing an image of falling meteors in a massive city in China while the female anchor explained, "…and widespread communication failures are anticipated. We bring you a series of images of the tragic events from Shanghai that occurred this afternoon…"
Crowley exchanged a preoccupied glance with Aziraphale, their fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of mutual reassurance. This was no ordinary series of disasters; it was something far more significant.
Aziraphale softly murmured, "The stars... fell," referencing the biblical prophecy of the Second Coming, now coming true before their eyes. Crowley squeezed his hand gently, offering a wordless comfort.
"Who would've thought we'd end up in the middle of an apocalypse? Twice?" Crowley took the remote from Aziraphale's trembling hand and turned off the television with a shrug and a sardonic comment.
Crowley saw the genuine concern for the well-being of humanity in Aziraphale face, his brows furrowing with worry as he absorbed the dire news reports.
Then, he held Aziraphale in his arms, seeking solace and comfort in their embrace. Crowley, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and irony, commented, "Thus follows the first half of the Tribulation, where God's wrath consumes the earth."
They clung to each other, their embrace a refuge from the encroaching chaos. Memories of the past resurfaced in Crowley's mind, and he couldn't help but reflect. The last time they had been this close to the end, they had parted ways, and Crowley had reluctantly accepted that he would be alone in the final moments. He remembered the agony of thinking that Aziraphale was lost forever. Back then, he had accepted his fate, deciding to stay on Earth and witness its end.
But now, as the world teetered on the brink, their love and determination stood strong, defying the impending calamity. "This is the Second Coming," stated the angel.
Crowley couldn't help but mutter in agreement, "Ngk," and Crowley pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, a gesture filled with tenderness and a renewed commitment to face whatever lay ahead together.
"We need to speak with Saraqael, find a way to stop this," Aziraphale asserted, his voice holding a note of urgency.
"There will be a war, them against us, against humanity," Crowley added, his gaze locked with Aziraphale's. His mind couldn't help but drift back to the past, to the time when they had faced a similar situation. He couldn't propose leaving with Aziraphale to Alpha Centauri, for he knew the angel's unwavering dedication to humanity. Aziraphale was, after all, the most benevolent angel he had ever known, and he loved him all the more for it.
Saraqael sat in her office, her eyes fixated on the globe that showcased the aftermath of the Metatron's orchestrated destruction. Phanuel was hugging her from behind, the need to hold into each other was still too new.
"The peculiarities of the human world had always fascinated me." Phanuel said, whispering in her ear.
"It pains me," she said, "to witness its impending annihilation." Dread gripped her heart in a strange mixture of fear for the Metatron's reaction if he saw Phanuel, the happiness of having him, and the impending doom that loomed over humanity.
Then, amidst the turmoil, a prayer reached her, a beckoning call from Aziraphale.
"Aziraphale!" She said, smiling. "He's reaching for me."
Phanuel released her. "The one with the Book?"
"Yes." Without hesitation, she allowed herself to be drawn into the celestial circle etched upon a bedroom floor, her radiant form bathed in gentle, otherworldly light. Relief washed over her as she beheld the familiar figures before her.
Her luminous gaze settled upon Aziraphale, and a warm smile graced her features. "Aziraphale," she greeted warmly, her voice a melodious harmony filled with gratefulness. "I'm delighted to see that you are well." He appeared as his usual beige-clad self, though his hair had grown a tad longer.
The angel, with his endearing bookish charm, returned her smile with genuine warmth. "Thank you, Saraqael. Crowley told me of your assistance in rescuing me. It warms my heart to have you here."
Saraqael's gaze then shifted towards Crowley, who stood beside Aziraphale with his characteristic swagger, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He acknowledged her with a nod and Saraqael responded with a wide smile. "Crowley, you seem to have outdone yourself this time. I would never I will never ever be able to thank you both enough for bringing back my beloved Phanuel."
Crowley's expression shifted from nonchalance to a touch of pride, though he attempted to maintain his cool demeanor. "Well, no need to thank us."
A soft happy chuckle escaped Saraqael "Indeed, your bravery is commendable, Crowley; both of you, you two restored Sandalfon and Phanuel" she stated, her eyes bearing the weight of countless millennia. "Your powers."
"We only restored, Sandalfon." Aziraphale interrupted her, clearly nervous, looking back at the demon for support.
Crowley finished Aziraphale's sentence, his voice laden with sorrow. "It's been so long since Phanuel was erased. Aziraphale wasn't well enough to bring someone back in such a state."
"I'm not in tip top condition yet." The angel added.
Saraqael frowned, confused. "Then who did it?" She asked the demon who was lurking in the shadows away from the circle.
Aziraphale coughed softly to draw Saraqael's attention back to him. "Saraqael, we asked Adam for help."
"Adam?" She repeated, a note of curiosity in her voice.
Crowley pushed himself off the wall, approaching the circle of light. "Adam, the former antichrist. Adam Young."
Saraqael's eyes widened with admiration at their resourcefulness. "Ah, that's a brilliant idea, Aziraphale!"
Crowley walked around the celestial circle, leaning closer to her ethereal form. "Now, if you don't mind answering a few questions," Aziraphale gently took Crowley's hand and positioned him away from the circle's edge, ensuring the circle could not discorporate him. Crowley continued after smirking at the angel, "what's happening in Heaven?"
Saraqael sighed, her gaze inadvertently drawn to the intertwined hands of Aziraphale and Crowley. It was a testament to their trust and love, more powerful now than ever before. "We discovered that the Great Plan had a safeguard for humanity from the very beginning. If humanity averts Armageddon, there should be no 'Second Coming.' The Metatron, in alliance with Satan, deceived both Heaven and Hell."
"With Satan?" Aziraphale repeated in a high-pitched voice, surprised.
Crowley couldn't contain his frustration, snapping with a mix of anger and desperation. "For Heaven's sake, don't say his name!"
Aziraphale offered a reassuring nod, acknowledging Crowley's discomfort. "Apologies, my dear. We shall not utter it again." Aziraphale turned back to Saraqael, still holding onto Crowley. "Is there anything else we should know?"
"We have a pact with the enemy, Dagon, who is gathering allies from Hell," Saraqael explained. "There are some other demons who are tired of their current positions or wish to remain in the human world."
Crowley snickered, a hiss escaping him. "You can't trust them."
Saraqael sighed once more. "I understand the challenges, but we need all the support we can muster. Michael and Uriel are currently recruiting other angels, though most are simply following the Metatron's orders without question."
Crowley, snorted a laugh. "Heaven wants soldiers who don't ask questions." He laughed at the irony. "The one who calls the shots loses his mind and the rest follows."
Saraqael turned her attention to Aziraphale. "Phanuel is here by my side. He has a request," she began, her voice taking on a solemn tone.
Aziraphale, ever the compassionate one, leaned in with concern. "Of course, Saraqael. What does he need?"
With a deep breath, Saraqael's radiance momentarily dimmed as she spoke. "He implores you to let him enter your refuge. So he can fix the Book of Life, away from the Metatron's reach." Her hearth throbbed at the mere thought of losing sight of Phanuel again.
A collective pause filled the room, heavy with the weight of understanding. Aziraphale's eyes softened with empathy, and Crowley's gaze held a hint of melancholy.
Aziraphale, his tone gentle and soothing, said, "Saraqael, my dear, we'd be positively delighted to have him here." A warm smile played on his lips.
Crowley, on the other hand, couldn't resist a touch of dry humor, "Well, angel, I suppose we could use a few more heavenly hands on deck."
"With his expertise, he can help repair the rest of the Book of Life." With determination in her gaze, Saraqael confirmed, "Keep your side of the portal open. Phanuel comes your way."
Aziraphale nodded, "We will leave it open."
"Thank you both for your support." Satisfied with the plan and the , she moved out of the circle, so Phanuel could prepare himself to travel through it. Saraqael extended a graceful hand caressing his loved Phanuel's cheek, with a tenderness that spoke of eons of love and longing.
"I will be by your side in a heartbeat, my beloved," Phanuel said with his melodic voice, just before descending.
As the celestial circle emptied, Saraqael felt a pang of reluctance. She couldn't bear to lose sight of Phanuel again. With a determined step, she moved back into the circle, her eyes fixed on Phanuel, who stood in his resplendent white robe with golden cuffs, reverently holding the Book of Life.
"Thanks for guarding my heavenly task, my sacred tool," he said, his lips brushing the pages in a gentle kiss.
Crowley, maintaining his trademark nonchalance, had discreetly moved away to a corner, while Aziraphale took a respectful step back, his eyes filled with admiration and curiosity.
Phanuel opened the Book, and with great ceremony, he passed his hand over the first crossed-out name. But, to his dismay, nothing happened. His face, once radiant with hope, now bore the weight of an unspoken realization.
"I can't undo the Metatron's ink," he admitted, his voice tinged with both frustration and despair.
Aziraphale's shock was palpable, his brows furrowing in deep thought. He exchanged a troubled glance with Crowley, who had returned to Aziraphale's side.
"We did it once before," Aziraphale muttered, more to himself than to the others.
Crowley, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration, stated, "We need Adam. Damn the consequences."
Saraqael interjected "Phanuel and I will find Michael and Uriel." the weight of the task ahead settling on her shoulders. "Where's the Antichrist?"
"Royal Veterinary College, Hatfield" Crowley responded.
Phanuel nodded in agreement, "We'll meet at wherever the Book is . It's as good a place as any."
A sudden, deafening thunderclap shook the room, causing all three celestial beings to startle. Outside, a meteor shower rained down upon Britain, painting the grey skies with fiery streaks. Chaos seemed to descend with the meteors, and they could hear the distant cries of humanity in turmoil.
Aziraphale's voice rang out with unwavering determination, "We must go."
I'm sorry, I got carried away, the 12 chapters are now 14.
It's all Aziraphale's fault! He tempted me!
About the Mature rating... I may write a bonus chapter at the end.