Chapter 6:
The angel Muriel enjoyed the human custom of 'sleeping'.
She had noticed as she was living in the bookshop that fewer people were on the streets at night. They seemed to retreat into their houses; she'd seen them in the flats above the shops across the street. There they shuffled about for a bit, then they would put out all the lights and 'go to sleep'.
She had consulted the books to find out what exactly this meant and found it silly, but, apparently, it was necessary because humans needed rest to get through the next day. A few weeks into her assignment on Earth, Muriel had tried sleeping, too. She didn't need to rest, but when she closed her eyes she found it easier to think about everything she had read throughout the day.
She'd begun to perform this custom regularly for a few hours every night.
Muriel didn't need to lie down to sleep. She could also do it sitting on an uncomfortable, little stool in a cold church without problems.
Night has fallen around her, Crowley and Aziraphale. The angel has been lying in the font submerged by holy water for several hours now. He still hadn't moved, but his skin didn't seem so paper-thin anymore. The holy water restored his body, but they couldn't tell if it could also bring back his celestial soul that had been sucked out so forcefully.
While Crowley had been unconscious on the floor of the church and Muriel had worked on the tubes, she had touched the angel. But she hadn't felt anything. It was as if his being was nothing more than a fleeting memory. Not really there at all.
She was very worried ever since, looking at the knocked out demon on the floor. Little ringlets of smoke had gathered around him everywhere his bare skin touched consecrated ground. But obviously he wasn't even feeling it. His overall emotional pain and fear for the angel must be so great that physical pain didn't even register with him anymore.
Muriel was afraid of what he would do, if Aziraphale was too weak to wake up.
The young angel was thinking about all of this while she was 'sleeping'. She wondered if Crowley would be angry enough to return to Heaven and take his revenge on those Archangels who ordered the abuse of Aziraphale's power. He wouldn't stand a chance on his own, not against all angels of Heaven. But she feared that Crowley would no longer care what happened to him if Aziraphale was already lost.
At some point during the night, when Muriel was still resting her eyes, she got pulled back into a state of alertness when strange sounds reached her ears.
She opened her eyes and looked for the source of the sound. Aziraphale was still motionless in the font, but she couldn't spot Crowley straight away. Ever since she'd told him that there was nothing more they could do but wait, the demon had remained right next to his mate, equally as motionless and not leaving him out of his sight. Until now.
Muriel stood from her little perch from where she was guarding the older angel and looked for Crowley. She realized now that the sound she was hearing was that of someone crying. Quiet, hiccuping sobs, wet and strangled with dreadful sorrow that made her heart twist with newfound sympathy.
Muriel ventured towards the middle of the church until she stood between the rows of pews, directing her gaze to the front where the sound came from. Behind the altar, on some steps that led to a grand, fairly inaccurate likeness of how people seemed to imagine God, was Crowley.
He was kneeling, a pitiful black heap on the floor beneath the portrait and only when she listened closely, Muriel realized with shock that the demon was praying.
"I'm not asking for me," Crowley just whispered. "I know I'm unforgivable and I don't expect You to answer, but... if You can, would You p-please just... h-hear me? Please, I'm begging You. I'm asking for him, because he has faith. Always had. Unlike me. Even when Your Archangels made it difficult for him to keep believing, he never doubted You for a second. Please, I'm begging You to restore him. Take from me whatever You want. Destroy me. Take my rotting soul, take my blood, a-anything…"
Crowley broke down in sobs. His face touched the ground, his fingers interlaced, shaking and begging. "But, please... God, don't take him. He's special. He's the only one that truly deserves being called an angel. Because he saved me… from becoming dark. He's... m-my light." he cried. "Please…"
Crowley proceeded to sob, speaking in breaking fractions of sentences. Pleading. His body shaking with raking pain. Muriel noticed something dripping from her face as she watched him and lifted her hand to wipe it away.
On her finger balanced a glistening drop of salt. She was crying, too.
Later, she would remember this moment before it happened as a moment of perfect peace and silence. Like someone pressed a pause button to capture the image of the three entities in the church. One still and the other two crying. An angel and a demon united in grief.
And then it happened.
They felt it coming. Something ineffable. Like a choir hymn that swelled in volume and, suddenly, their ears were ringing as ethereal light broke through the roof of the church. White and glorious and blinding.
It touched Muriel so deeply that she found herself kneeling on the floor without realizing that she ever bent down. Crowley, across from her, shielded his eyes fearfully. As if he wasn't feeling worthy enough to look directly at it.
The cone of light centred around Aziraphale. To the sound of a thousand highest angels singing – so much higher than Michael, Gabriel or even The Metatron could ever dream of being – Aziraphale was lifted out of the font by invisible forces.
Crowley scrambled up to stand, watching with tears in his eyes. Fear muted his lips as Aziraphale's form, floating in mid-air, was touched and soaked by divinity.
And then the unconscious angel gasped, his head fell back, his mouth and eyes opened and the light shone out from inside of him. Muriel saw how Crowley clenched his hands, face frozen in distress. None of them could tell what exactly was happening. Was Aziraphale being saved or utterly discorporated?
The light seemed to radiate from every pore of his being, making the whole nave of the church glow stark and bright. They didn't know how long it was taking. Time had no meaning in the presence of God.
Eventually, Aziraphale's head slumped back down and the glowing within him ceased. Softy, like a feather, he descended back into the pool of holy water and as he arrived, still, as if nothing had happened, the light vanished and the church was plunged back into nightly darkness.
For another two or three heartbeats Crowley and Muriel remained motionless. Too awestruck by Her divine visit to move a muscle.
Then Crowley ran and Muriel did, too. They stopped shortly before the font and stared at Aziraphale. Something felt different now, thought Muriel, but that could've been the residual almighty gloriousness that still crackled in the air. Still, Aziraphale looked healthier. More vivid and three-dimensional; no longer like an empty shell that would blow away with the next gust of wind.
And, suddenly, his white brows twitched and he groaned softly in the back of his throat.
Crowley fell to his knees, clutching the rim of the tub. Muriel held her breath; and not just because the demon's fingers were dangerously close to holy water.
"Aziraphale?" he whispered hopefully.
The angel's eyelids trembled and then they opened. He looked dazed and disoriented, but his mouth moved and his first word was spoken clear as a bell. "Crowley? Is that you?"
Something moved through the demon. A wave of utter relief and thankfulness. "I'm here, Angel. I'm right here with you." he sobbed.
Aziraphale turned his head until he found his red-headed companion. Then a look of absolute peace and devotion entered his gaze. Like he was reaching home after years of absence. His hand moved at the same time the demon's hand moved and, without looking, they found each other, clutching tightly.
Muriel couldn't stop herself from gasping audibly, because the angel's hand was dripping with holy water. However, to her uttermost surprise, the demon only briefly flinched and then looked on happily, regardless of the faint sizzling noise that came from their clutched hands.
"Oh, thank God, thank You so much." Crowley mumbled under his breath; tears were escaping his snake eyes.
Aziraphale frowned. "What's wrong? Where…" He started to cast his eyes about, finding Muriel and acknowledging her with a friendly look of confusion, then his eyes moved on. Muriel could detect the exact moment when it dawned on Aziraphale that they were in a church. He stared back at Crowley, wide-eyed, then at their hands and then, with a violent flinch, he let go of him and pressed himself as far away from him as possible. "Oh, no!" he cried devastated.
"No, no, Angel, it's okay." Crowley assured him hurriedly. "I'm fine. Look…" He showed him his hand that was red and a bit blistered. Aziraphale was horrified. "Well, I mean, it does hurt a bit, but that's all it does. It can't destroy me anymore. Not instantly." Crowley made his hand glow with red hellfire and the blisters paradoxically vanished.
Aziraphale relaxed, sitting up more in his bathtub. "But how?" he questioned in bewilderment.
The demon sighed, wiping his tears away. "I had to go up there and rescue you, you silly angel. Muriel here fetched me when she saw what they were doing to you." He indicated the younger angel, standing by, watching the exchange and she waved with a smile. "I… I don't know if you remember…"
Aziraphale's gaze darkened, more in disappointment than in anger, and he looked down at his chest. "Yes." he whispered barely audible. "I remember."
Crowley reached out to touch his shoulder, caressing him softly with his thumb in an attempt to comfort him. "You're okay now. I had to fight them, but I got you out of there."
"You fought angels?" Aziraphale repeated worriedly. "On your own?"
"Well... I had help." he said, nodding at Muriel again, whose smile diminished slightly with uncertainty.
"Then they will look for you." said Aziraphale anxiously. "They will look for you and they will make sure to destroy you this time!"
"Angel, would you calm down." Crowley pleaded. "We're safe in here. I don't think anyone will dare to interfere for a while." He exchanged a meaningful glance with Muriel, causing her to eye the roof, where the light had shone through, with reverence. Aziraphale noticed this and frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Crowley took another deep breath before smiling lovingly at his companion. "It doesn't matter now, Angel. Trust me, we're safe. What I've been meaning to explain is that they used you to forge special weapons because they realized we're somehow… stronger than they are. I don't know why… maybe since the body swap, maybe it has always been this way and we never knew. But that's just why they weren't able to discorporate me. They did manage to make me bleed, however."
"Oh, Crowley-" lamented Aziraphale, but the demon shook his head dismissively.
"They hurt you, too." he said. "And when I detached you from that machine… my blood and yours mixed. It was Muriel who figured out that your blood in my veins probably protects me from anything sacred now."
The angel raised his brows, slowly nodding in contemplation. "So… I now have demon blood in me?"
Crowley's smile instantly vanished and his lip wobbled for a second. Then he hastily removed his hand from Aziraphale's shoulder. "S-Sorry," he mumbled, eyes nervously trained on the floor, blinking a few times as if to dispel new tears. "I—you probably don't want… I-I sullied your pure-"
But Crowley didn't get further than that.
Aziraphale quickly reached out, his hand wrapped around the back of Crowley's head so he couldn't escape and then, suddenly, he was kissing him. Firm and on the mouth. Like humans in love did. Muriel was so scandalized in the first few seconds that she turned her head away.
But then she felt the love.
Like an explosion at first and then an enveloping, warm embrace. Sweet and tender, touching and relaxing everything in the church. Probably in the whole village. And Muriel looked back at them. Still connected. Kissing softly. Hands caressing cheeks and chests.
Aziraphale parted first, but he didn't let go of Crowley's head. "I didn't mean it like that, my dear." he promised. They both looked as if they were about to cry. "I thank you. F-For saving me. For risking your life for me. Always. And I… I don't know how to make it up to you."
Crowley pulled the angel's head in once more until their foreheads rested together. "You're here. And you're okay. That's enough for me." he whispered.
Aziraphale relished in their closeness for a moment, then pulled back to look into the demon's eyes. "Neither of us had to get hurt. If I hadn't been so foolish, I wouldn't have fallen for their plan-"
"You had faith." Crowley tried to argue, but Aziraphale wouldn't let him.
"I should've had faith in you! I was up there in Heaven, thinking to have done the right thing, but… I saw you. On the cliff in the middle of a terrible, miraculous rainstorm and I knew I shouldn't have left. I've hurt you, dear. I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. You're here now."
"Please, believe me... I wanted to come back right away, but they captured me and stuck me in that dreadful machine before I could escape. I was so naive, believing I could make things better for us. So that we could be together without fear. I thought I could return and be with you, if… if you'd still w-wanted me." Aziraphale was crying bitterly now. "Because I love you, Crowley. I love you so much."
The serpent shook with held back emotions. Then he brushed his knuckles along Aziraphale's cheek, wiping the tears away and he finally confessed. "I love you, too, Angel."
They kissed again, softly this time, and Muriel didn't look away.
She smiled, feeling deeply in her soul how right it was that the angel and the demon loved each other.
Only one more chapter to go! Please let me know what you think. :) Extra special thanks to my loyal reviewers!