Five - Escape
Aziraphale didn't know how many hours had passed, but judging by his budding headache, they had been here for the better part of the day. And nothing to show for it.
He looked over his shoulder, to where Crowley was frantically sifting through the context of a box by his red light. 'Found anything yet?' he called.
'No!' Crowley answered. He put down the box and opened another. Aziraphale's eye fell on a sign just above Crowley's head. It read: Hell – recent developments (1493 – present).
'You're not even looking in the right –' Aziraphale fell silent. In the corner of his eye, something was shining. He turned around.
It was a box. It wasn't really shining, he realised now, just reflecting the light of his orb, like the silvery markings on a rain coat. It looked thoroughly out of place.
With trembling hands, Aziraphale reached up and took it off the shelf. It felt light. He opened it.
Inside was a stack of papers. The front page read: Women on Earth – declined/rejected. Aziraphale turned the page. The next page contained a list of names, all of which had been crossed out. In the corner shone in golden letters: 2nd Coming of Christ.
Relief flooded through Aziraphale. He pressed a kiss to the box. 'Crowley! I found it!' he called.
There was no answer.
'Crowley?' Aziraphale looked up.
Crowley was knelt by the chest in the centre of the room and trying to reach underneath it. There was something of a manic look in his eyes. More than usual.
Aziraphale put the box under his arm. 'Come on, Crowley, let's go.'
'Just –' Crowley hissed. He strained his face and reached even further.
'What are you looking for?' Aziraphale asked. 'I found the list. We can leave here.'
When Crowley didn't answer, Aziraphale sighed and made the sheets of paper move from under the chest and pile themselves up neatly. Crowley grabbed the pile and sifted through it. 'No... no... nope... Argh!' He threw the last of the papers down, got to his feet again and stalked back to the wall. He violently pulled out a box, only to shove it back again the moment he'd read the label.
'Crowley! We have to go.' Aziraphale walked up to him. Crowley did not respond. He picked up an envelope, tore it open, looked inside and threw it back.
Aziraphale raised a hand to touch his arm, but hesitated. Crowley didn't seem to notice, his eyes still on the wall. Aziraphale said: 'We should really get out before it gets dark outsi–'
Crowley put his hand on another box. It glowed up red. The next moment, a great BANG! sounded through the Vaults, and Aziraphale and Crowley were thrown off their feet by a sudden, violent shake of the ground.
Aziraphale hit the floor. Crowley hit him. Aziraphale whimpered when the air was driven from his lungs.
Their lights went out.
Crowley was the first to recover. Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, removing his weight from Aziraphale's chest. Aziraphale worked himself up to his elbows. 'What just happened?' he whispered.
It was not completely dark, he realised. There was a faint orange glow, lining out Crowley's silhouette in front of him. The light seemed to come from the ground, towards the staircase...
Crowley got to his feet and looked. 'Oh, shit,' he said.
Aziraphale went to stand next to him. 'Oh no,' he said.
Between them and the staircase there was a giant, gaping cleft in the floor. An orange light shone through it from below. When Aziraphale neared it, he could feel a heat coming from it. He broke into a sweat.
'Where do you think that goes to?' he said in a trembling voice.
Crowley swallowed. 'My guess is the Ninth Circle.'
'Oh.' Aziraphale took a step back.
Crowley turned around and spread his hands, backlit by the orange glow. 'Well. Great work, Aziraphale. I told you we shouldn't have come here.'
Aziraphale opened his mouth and closed it again, at a loss for words. 'What?' he managed at last. 'This isn't my fault! I found what we were looking for! You kept on searching, and triggered this!' He gestured to the gaping gash behind Crowley. 'What were you looking for anyway?'
Crowley's jaw worked. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but then he only snapped: 'Nothing.'
Aziraphale snorted. He didn't believe it for a moment. But he realised Crowley was not going to tell him, whatever he might say.
That thought hurt. They had never had secrets for each other. Not like this.
But he let it drop and pushed the ache in his chest down. He was not remotely ready for a confrontation. So he said: 'Well, how are we going to get out, then?'
Some of the tension left Crowley's face and shoulders. He looked at the gash with an appraising eye. 'Leap?'
The gash promptly widened to twice its size, swallowing the chest in the centre of the room in the process. Crowley stumbled back, nearly colliding with Aziraphale. The gash was now nearly ten feet wide.
'Ech,' Crowley said.
Aziraphale sighed. 'All right.' He stooped to pick up the box again, putting it firmly under his arm. He reached his other hand to Crowley. 'Take my hand.'
Crowley narrowed his eyes. 'What are you going to do?'
'Just trust me.'
Crowley rolled his eyes. 'Oh, really.'
Aziraphale flinched. It hurt. It hurt even more than Crowley's lie about what he had been looking for. For a moment, just for a moment, it had been like old times again. It had felt good to be a team once more. But now Crowley was laughing at the suggestion of trusting him.
Some part of him thought that, perhaps, he had deserved it a little bit. But it hurt like Hell.
But now Aziraphale was angry too. 'Listen. I don't know how much time has passed, but the day won't last forever. We have to get out before nightfall, or those ghouls will be waiting for us in force. I don't care if you want to be stuck in here forever, we have a world to save. So put yourself together and take my damn hand!'
Crowley was silent for a moment. Then he placed his hand in Aziraphale's. It was warm and firm and bony. The touch of his skin sparked a wave of emotions in Aziraphale's chest – joy, longing, ache, fear. He decidedly ignored them.
He concentrated and teleported them to the top of the staircase.
As soon as they landed, he let go of Crowley's hand. Crowley laughed, a genuine laugh of amazement. 'Whew! That feels funny!'
Aziraphale didn't answer. He took the door handle, and opened the door a little.
A ray of light shone in. It was reddish-gold. The sun was setting, nearly touching the horizon; they were just in time. On the top of the dune opposite them, Aziraphale could see the Bentley, still waiting faithfully.
'Come on.' He hitched the box up higher under his arm, pushed the door further open, and stepped outside.
A multi-voiced screech sounded up around him.
'Yes, yes. We're leaving.' Aziraphale began to run, followed by Crowley. They struggled up the dune. It was suddenly a lot higher and steeper than Aziraphale remembered. He looked back; the ghouls didn't seem to be bothered by the loose sand at all. There seemed to be even more of them than this morning, and they were coming after them at speed.
Crowley reached the car first. He pulled the door open, threw himself behind the steering wheel, started the motor, and began to drive.
For one horrible moment Aziraphale thought Crowley was going to leave him here, but then he swerved around the car, whipping up sand in all directions, until the passenger door faced Aziraphale. The door flung open. Aziraphale clambered to the top of the dune and stumbled into the car, holding his box tight. Crowley snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut behind him. A ghoul threw itself against the car and Aziraphale yelped. He hadn't realised how close they had been.
The next moment Crowley kicked down the gas pedal and they raced down the dune on the other side. Sand flew up when he turned in the valley. He laughed maniacally as they sped away.
Behind them, the ghouls howled.
Crowley had been sitting under a palm tree, eating liquorice and glowering in the direction of the villa all night. He was starting to get bored.
And restless. In the east, the sun was rising. The third day had begun. Tonight, his deadline expired.
He hadn't found anything related to Stripping in the Vaults (at least, not this kind of Stripping). He gritted his teeth, still galled. He just knew the solution to his problems would have been in the next box – if he'd only been allowed a chance to look...
But they were out now, and his chance was gone. And the minutes were ticking away. The lump in Crowley's throat had become a stone in his chest.
What was he going to do when Astaroth came back for his answer?
The way he saw it, there were three options: become a Duke of Hell, be Stripped, or run.
Both of the first two options were bad. Crowley was not unused to bad things – he was a demon, after all, and had contributed a modest handful to the world himself – but this was different. Neither of them bore thinking about.
He'd spent six thousand years being as loosely affiliated with Hell as he possibly could. He'd almost escaped. For a while he'd thought he had. But now, if he became a Duke of Hell, he'd be firmly back in Hell's bear-trap fold. Something made Crowley suspect there would be no second way out.
His alternative was to be Stripped of his powers. Crowley shuddered again. For all that he liked humans, the very thought of becoming one made him feel claustrophobic. He liked driving at three times the maximum speed. He liked not having to look left and right before crossing the street. And above all, he liked eternity (spent well, that is). Becoming human would make impossible so many things he still wanted from life.
That left running. But he knew it would be no good. If Astaroth had found him in the middle of the Sahara, not even Alpha Centauri would be safe. He would be caught, and, if he was lucky, he would still have to choose. And so his thoughts turned again to the first two options, the way they had moved in circles for the better part of the night.
There was, of course, a fourth option. It had occurred to Crowley the moment after Astaroth had left, and been present in the back of his thoughts ever since.
He could turn to Aziraphale. If there was nothing else Crowley knew, he knew that Aziraphale would help him. Happily. He could protect Crowley from Astaroth and the Dark Council and make sure no one would ever Strip him. Crowley could stand up now, walk to the villa where Aziraphale was going through the list he had retrieved from the Vaults, and tell him everything.
'Like Hell,' Crowley said out loud.
Quite apart from the fact that it would still mean binding himself to Heaven, which was not very different from binding himself to Hell, he was not going to give in to Aziraphale. Not in any way. Crowley had refused Aziraphale when he had begged him to join him in Heaven. And then Aziraphale had refused him. That had had nothing to do with Heaven or Hell, it had been personal. And so Aziraphale was the last person Crowley was going to turn to.
As if the whole thing wasn't convoluted enough, Aziraphale was also the person Crowley was once again working closely with to waylay the plans of Heaven. He didn't know it he should be pleased or not that it was going swimmingly.
He didn't like the ease with which they had fallen back into their old companionship. The smooth teamwork, the casual back-and-forth, the sensation of being known... he'd loved it. He'd loved it too much. It wasn't supposed to go this easy.
Crowley wasn't good at retaining anger. He was prone to outbursts, but once he was away from Aziraphale (because it was always Aziraphale he ended up shouting at) he quickly regained his temper and was ready to make it up again. He'd sometimes drawn it out a little bit, but only because it was funny to watch Aziraphale do his little I-was-wrong-dance.
This time it was different. This time, Aziraphale had wounded him, and the wound was not healed. So Crowley was going to remain angry.
And that was why he was now sitting under a palm tree, eating liquorice and glowering.
A motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Crowley looked up. A short figure in a niqab had appeared from the house and was walking up to his palm tree.
'I thought you were gone,' Crowley said when she was in earshot.
'No,' Gee said. She sat down with creaking limbs and crossed her legs.
Crowley looked at her, then raised an eyebrow. 'That's... it?'
'Yes.'
Crowley laughed in spite of himself. He liked her. 'Liquorice?'
'Thanks.' She took one from the bag. Her hand disappeared beneath her veil. 'Ooh, this one's not bad.'
Crowley grinned and waited. The sudden widening of her eyes told him she had hit the pepper in the core. She began to cough, but when she had regained her breath she began to laugh cacklingly. 'Give me another one.'
He gave her the bag. She took three. 'Thank you...'
'Crowley.'
'Nice to meet you. I am Gee.'
For a moment he was confused at her repeated introduction, then he remembered he'd made her forget about their earlier conversation. 'Pleasure.'
She let another liquorice disappear behind her veil and nodded at the villa. From here they could look into the atrium, which Aziraphale had converted into a study upon their return from the Vaults. He was still going through the list. Crowley could only see his back, bent over in concentration. He wished Aziraphale would hurry up a bit. 'Who's your friend?' Gee asked.
'We're not f... oh, never mind. His name is Aziraphale.'
Gee looked pensively at him. 'He seems a...'
'A self-absorbed prick,' Crowley agreed.
Gee cackled again. 'I was going to say "a little ostentatious," but sure, that works too.' She ate another liquorice. 'Ah well, people are like that sometimes, aren't they?'
'I wouldn't know.' The few humans Crowley knew were very different from Aziraphale. Thankfully. He'd probably have let the world come to an end if they were all like him.
'My son is the same,' Gee said confidentially. 'Very full of himself. Try and make him see someone else's perspective... Sometimes I wonder if he just does it for the hell of it.' She seemed to be speaking mostly to herself now, her unevenly coloured eyes on the horizon. 'But ah, he means well. And you know how it goes. You have kids, you don't know what they'll be like in their thirties.'
'Yeah, thing is,' Crowley said, 'I knew he was like this from the beginning.'
'And still you love 'em,' Gee mused out loud.
Crowley opened his mouth to answer her. But then a voice came from the villa.
'Crowley, I found it!' Aziraphale came rushing from the house, waving a piece of paper in his hand.
For a moment Crowley thought about telling him to bugger off so he could finish his conversation with Gee, but then he got to his feet. 'You found the woman?'
'Women.' Aziraphale arrived in the palm tree's shade. A bead of sweat pearled down his forehead. 'Oof, it really is scorching out here. Oh, hello,' he said to Gee.
The old woman looked up. 'Nice to meet you.' There was a laugh in her voice.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. 'Who is she, exactly?' he asked in a low voice.
'Ahh... yeah, not sure either. What did you find?' Crowley said.
'You can call me Gee,' said Gee.
'Ah. Well, pleasure, Gee. My name is Aziraphale. Um, how exactly did you get here?'
'Will you just tell me what you found?' Crowley hissed.
Aziraphale swallowed. 'Right. Yes. I went through the list, and all names are crossed out, except seven. So we only need to v–'
'Seven?' Crowley spluttered. He cast a glance at the sun. The morning was already half gone. If they had to visit seven women before today's end, they had to start moving. 'Well, let's go then.' He walked towards the villa.
'Ah... about that,' Aziraphale said.
Crowley whirled around. 'What?'
Aziraphale still stood in the shadow, clutching his piece of paper, looking far too prim. 'We can't really go now...'
Crowley suppressed the desire to bash Aziraphale's head against the palm tree. 'Aaargh! This really isn't the moment to dawdle, Aziraphale!'
'Whyever not? We have plenty of time,' Aziraphale said.
Crowley stared at him. For a moment, just for a moment, he thought about telling him. My time will be up by tonight. But he swallowed down the words. Instead he grated: 'Why is it we can't go, then?'
He instantly knew Aziraphale had seen his moment of doubt. Aziraphale deflated a little, his smile faltering. Crowley was surprised to feel a flash of regret at the sight. He had, he realised, actually missed his stupid face with his stupid smile.
But then Aziraphale said: 'I, er, I have a meeting with the Metatron. In half an hour.'
What? Crowley stalked up to him until they stood nose to nose . 'You swore,' he hissed. 'You swore you wouldn't go scrambling back this time...'
'And I won't!' Aziraphale said. 'I assure you, I am still very much committed to preventing the Second Coming. But...'
'And if you think you can persuade the Metatron to help you, I am gone, and you can solve your mess on your own.'
'Well, I wasn't...' Aziraphale said, then faltered, blushing. So he had been hoping to get the Metatron to join their noble cause. Crowley shook his head, more in amazement than anything else. How could Aziraphale be that stupid? How had he not been killed multiple times over the past six thousand years? (Crowley knew the answer to that question.)
'Well, I can't just not come to the meeting,' Aziraphale said. 'He'll suspect something.'
Crowley stared at him for a few more seconds. But there was nothing he could do now. 'Fine,' he grated. 'But if you try anything...'
'Of course not,' Aziraphale said. 'I'll tell him that everything goes swimmingly. He won't suspect a thing.' He was smiling again.
Gee cackled. 'Oh, I like you,' she said.