Heaven Present Day
Aziraphale was sitting on an open balcony outside of his chambers in Heaven. He was regarding the detailed cover of what the Angel Michael had just told him was The Book of Life. Aziraphale smiled pleasantly and took it from her, saying he would give it his utmost attention. She had smiled back and left with a renewed bounce in her step.
Aziraphale reached for coffee that was not there and sighed in annoyance, "Well, might as well have a look at this," he opened it to the first page.
A soothing chime announced a visitor to his office, and the new Archangel said, "Please come in." A Seraphim named Gilead, who had been fanning over the new Supreme Archangel since he took over the position from Gabriel, entered the office. "I have news! " He declared excitedly. "News from what front?' Aziraphale asked, sitting up even straighter than usual. "Is it safe to talk?" asked the seraphim. "Yes, quite safe," Aziraphale replied.
He had discovered that with his new position came not only new celestial powers, but the office he had inherited had been heavily miracled over the eons by the two previous Supreme Archangels, ostensibly for quiet prayers and contemplation, but Aziraphale had figured out very quickly that making it into a silent fortress of solitude was quite the cover.
Like his former predecessors, he had used it for secret meetings with his staff over the last six months and had been remarkably surprised at how easily the other Angels had gone along with his somewhat unique ideas.
"Mercury has not returned from Earth." Gilead shared excitedly. "Really, how long has he been down there?" Aziraphale asked. Gilead looked at the giant timepiece on the wall. It displayed whatever time you wanted to know anywhere in the universe. It had been miracled to indicate Rome while Michael was in the office, but when she left, it read as it always did when Aziraphale was alone, 'too late.' For Gilead, however, the clock displayed 'seven hours fourteen minutes.' "That long?" Aziraphale said, rising from his seat. "Yes, He has NEVER taken so long to deliver a package...and nothing has happened to him because there are no alarm bells." the excited Angel proclaimed. "Excellent, Gilead! Very good, indeed. We will rescue that wayward demon from the Earth, yet," Aziraphale declared.
"Sir, I." The Seraphim paused. "What is it, Gilead, more news?" Aziraphale asked, smiling at him. Gilead looked less sure of himself, "Yes, it's about the balm you requested for the Demon Crowley's eyes. I almost have it ready, but I may have to go to..." He stopped speaking and looked down several times, avoiding eye contact with this new and beloved boss. "Go where dear boy?' Gilead looked down again, and when Aziraphale did not understand his subtle explanation, he pointed downward. "Oh! Oh my, I see. Downstairs then?" Aziraphale replied ominously.
"That's the fly in the ointment, Sir. Either I go to the very center of Hell, or I could get a teardrop from Beelzebub. Tears from the lost will work, but I would prefer Beelzebub if we can find her." Gilead answered. "Why her especially?" Asked Aziraphale, concerned. "Because she is kind of on our side, yet still fallen, maybe she would help." Replied Gilead, who hated having to give the news of this setback.
Aziraphale cleared his throat and looked around again for a cup of something that was not there. "Gilead, we need to think, and what helps us think?" asked Aziraphale. "What, Sir?" Lunch, Gilead. We will need a large and filling lunch to ponder his problem." Gilead was relieved. He had anticipated that this news would come as a blow to his boss, so he was game for this new adventure to Earth, which he hadn't visited in many years. "Shall we take the service elevator to avoid suspicion?" He suggested. "Good thinking. We will have a lovely luncheon to help us devise a solution."
"It would be best if you didn't worry." the new Archangel replied in a very comforting tone. "I am sure we can solve this dilemma."
"I won't, Sir." smiled Gilead, relieved. He had never worked for any other Angel who cared about his feelings and decided to do everything he could to ensure things stayed this way. "What are you in the mood for? We could try that new restaurant in Paris with the patisserie attached." Aziraphale said, clasping his hands together in delight. He would be back on Earth for the first time in months. Back on Earth and closer to Crowley.
London Present Day
Crowley was standing in the doorway of the bookshop holding a book that caused him to contemplate the end of existence when he realized that he would need reinforcements.
He regarded the smiling Messenger Angel and said, "Why don't you come inside? By the way, what did you say your name was again?" Crowley asked the Messenger. "Mercury," said the Angel as he entered the shop. "Did we ever work together? I feel like I remember a Mercury," said Crowley. He was looking at the Angel with interest. "We, hmm... well, yes and no," said the Angel. "Color me intrigued," said Crowley. "How do you mean?" I worked for you, but we never worked together." replied the Messenger. "When did you work for me? I don't remember having any staff?" replied the demon. "Well, it was at the end of the Great War. I carried you to Hell".
"How do you mean?" asked the demon, quite taken aback. "I was asked to carry you safely to Hell. You had been badly injured and wouldn't have survived the fall," replied Mercury matter-of-factly. Crowley put his glasses on, then took them off again. He sized up the Messenger. There was no hint of anything but simple honesty from this newfound informant.
"I'm gonna need more than wine for this one," Crowley said with a shudder. His mind began to whirr and spin, forming plans more quickly than it took him to breathe or create a nebula. "Mercury, get comfortable, m' boy. Aziraphale has selected you to interview for a vital new position within the Heavenly ranks."
"Wow! Really?" Replied Mercury. Gilead claimed this would be a unique delivery, but wow." Crowley interrupted him, alarm rising in his voice. "Gilead, he's a healer, isn't he? Is Aziraphale alright?" "Oh, Yes, Sir, perfectly fine. Gilead has been reassigned as the Assistant to the Supreme Archangel." "OK, profoundly weird, let's circle back to that," said the demon.
Crowley poured a tumbler full of whiskey and held it in his hand. "What you said earlier about the fall, care to elucidate?" Crowley sat down and motioned to a chair that he had miracled for the Angel. "You might not remember," Mercury replied as he seated himself. "What with being so severely injured, but I did carry you. I remember it perfectly because, of course, I didn't have the memory wipe." Crowley looked at this new Messenger sharply, "Memory wipe?" he questioned. "Not a full one, just some details that Gabriel didn't want you to remember," Mercury said.
Crowley realized that his own heart was beating at an alarming rate. This was too much information, so early in the morning. He poured himself another glass of whiskey before setting the bottle down.
"If I decide to believe you, and I'm not saying I will, then why are you telling me this now? I mean, something like this seems like a pretty deep secret?"
Crowley swallowed the fire water and looked keenly at Mercury. "Oh, it was!" Replied the Angel, nodding vigorously. "Then why the sudden rush of honesty?" Crowley asked, peering at the Angel like this was an interrogation. "Gabriel said that as long as he was the Supreme Archangel, I could never tell a soul. He isn't the Supreme Archangel any longer, is he?" The Messenger sat back in the chair and looked pleased with himself.
Three critical thoughts fought for dominance in Crowley's mind.
One: there was an unbelievably dangerous book that he had casually just placed beside the bell on the bookshop's unused check-out table next to a signed first-edition copy of a book about a graveyard. Apropos, he mused.
Two: truth be told, Crowley had never remembered the actual falling part. Sure, the memory of the boiling, sulfuric, tar-blackened hellscape that was, in point of fact, Hell remained a vivid monstrosity that lingered in the back of his mind like the minor annoyance of having a fresh paper cut for six thousand years. However, The actual falling bit always felt more like he had sauntered vaguely downward.
Three: Aziraphale loved him.
Crowley smiled despite the tempest of madness swirling around him and decided his next step.
The demon, who did not fall, stood up and, with great enthusiasm, declared, "Angel Mercury, the speediest of all delivery Angels, this interview is, I think, going splendidly. You, my good man, have just been recruited into the Angelic Secret Service." The Messenger Mercury beamed an even brighter smile. "What great news!" he said happily. "Yes," replied the demon, "and I hope you're ready because you and I have a lot of work to do."
Crowley had never cared about labels or hierarchies. He had, he thought, done an excellent job of being annoyed by both Gabriel and Hasta and that creepy demon who kept duplicating himself. Now, that was unnerving. He had never liked overseeing anything. Hell believed he had done his many jobs remarkably well over the centuries. He had even been excused from several years in the 19th century to spend time on quiet reflection to plan his diabolical schemes. He had instead slept through most of them. Since the 20th century had wars, depressions, and general mayhem for a good bit of it, he had received several commendations and other lesser demons were told to follow in his footsteps. They had even hinted at giving him a seat on the dark council, but he had graciously declined by saying he was still desperately needed in the field. He and Aziraphale had gone for a drink in a secluded seaside resort to celebrate. The Angel had told him that Hell had not claimed him because Crowley, deep down, knew how good he was. Crowley had scoffed as usual and said, "I don't like paperwork. They do a tremendous amount of paperwork. Hell is a miserable bureaucracy, and Anthony J. Crowley is a free spirit." Crowley realized now that only Aziraphale had kept him on Earth, and now it was Aziraphale who would cause him to leave it.
A Violent Storm at Sea 466 BC
The sky was dark, and the sea churned violently. The ship was being tossed about mercilessly and was in grave danger of being capsized. The sailors tossed crates, bottles, and anything not nailed overboard to lighten the ship's load. The Prophet, Jonah, came up and stopped them. "It's my fault!" Jonah declared. Aziraphale and Crowley listened intently over the screaming gale at his conversation with the sailors. "God will punish you if I remain on board." One of the men cried out over the wind, "Toss him overboard, then!" They were about to argue, but Jonah agreed with the frightened man, and the sailors, fearful of losing their lives, threw the prophet of God into the turbulent waters.
Aziraphale gasped in horror at what had just happened and lost no time. He miracled a rowboat and began climbing down the tossing ship's sides, clinging to the fishing net as his ladder. Suddenly and inexplicably, the rain stopped, and the clouds parted. He felt a hand on his own and looked to see that Crowley was climbing down with him. "You're, you're coming with me?" Aziraphale asked, smiling in surprise. "I can't let you have all the fun, Angel, and besides, I need to know what will happen. I'm too invested in the story," he said, smirking.
The ship calmed its rocking, and the waves died down. A stillness fell over the world, and an Angel and a demon climbed into a rowboat to pick up a prophet treading water in a vast sea.
Screams from the ship suddenly caught their attention, and they watched in utter disbelief as, out of the deep blue, a whale more prominent than the ship suddenly surfaced above the water. It ignored the boat entirely but opened its great jaws toward the setting sun and swallowed Jonah in one gulp. Then, he turned and began swimming away.
The ship began to row away as fast as it could in the opposite direction. And Crowley and Aziraphale sat for several seconds in motionless shock. "Is he? I mean, he has to be," said Crowley. Aziraphale focused for a moment and smiled. "No, he is alive. He seems to be sitting in the mouth of the whale."
"So, no digestion has taken place? Crowley asked, still stunned at what he had just witnessed. "No. What are we going to do?" Aziraphale was beside himself. "I don't know, maybe we can talk to the whale...reason with it somehow," said Crowley. "Have you ever reasoned with a whale, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, "because I certainly haven't." The demon shrugged, "There's a first time for everything, Angel," Crowley sat down and miracled the boat to head toward the whale. "I'll miracle an air bubble for him to keep him safe and comfortable until we can do whatever we are going to do." "Good thinking, Angel, Crowley praised him.
Aziraphale turned back toward the boat and noticed that the simple rowboat he had miracled had become a comfortable conveyance. All the crates unceremoniously tossed into the sea by the terrified sailors now bobbed beside the new boat. "What's all this?" He asked. "It's three days to land, Angel. Thought we might like some refreshments while we go along."
Leave it to Crowley, thought Aziraphale, smiling. He always thinks of me. Aziraphale was suddenly shocked at himself for being delighted that a demon was thinking of him, but Crowley had, in a way, become his demon. He reasoned. They had a whale to catch, and he would have to think of this later, he told himself as Crowley reached into the water and plucked out a jug of wine that had been closely following them. "
"Want some?" Crowley asked casually. "There's a first time for everything," said Aziraphale, smiling. He sat down and took the offered jug. Crowley grinned. "Today is full of surprises."
Crowley had not stopped smiling; Aziraphale noticed since he had taken the jug from him. Aziraphale did not realize that Crowley was thinking the same thing about him. Crowley suddenly spoke up out of the comfortable silence. "We're together out on the sea, two souls away from the prying eyes of anyone," Crowley said. "No Hell, no Heaven, just us." "That is a comfort," replied the Angel. He looked a bit taken by what he had said and followed up with, "It's nice to have a break from work, isn't it?" Crowley sat up, his eyes sparkling. "Angel, are we vacationing together? "Oh, really, a vacation," Aziraphale said, laughing at the demon. "We're chasing a whale to rescue a swallowed prophet if we possibly can."
"I don't know, Angel, a sea voyage with wine, food, and..." Crowley paused for a moment as if he wanted to say something but was fighting with himself. "Well, it seems like a nice vacation to me." Crowley lay back on new plump pillows he had miracled and motioned for Aziraphale to join him. The Angel moved over and sat beside the demon on the comfortable seats he had made and smiled. Then Crowley did something unexpected. He leaned up on his elbow and turned toward Aziraphale. He seemed to be closer than the Angel had ever remembered him being, and they looked at one another.
Suddenly, Jonah, the whale, and Nineva, even work, faded away, and they lost track of time until the sun setting behind them turned into a blanket of shining stars they had helped create.