One Christmas Eve in Soho
A mini holiday Good Omens fan-fic
The pale sunlight had grown faint outside the windows of A. Z. Fell and Company. Frost was in the air. The streets of London Soho were unusually quiet and still, as though waiting in eager anticipation for something to happen.
It was Christmas Eve and snow was hinted at. All the world was still. Shop doors were decorated festively for the season and in many a window there stood an evergreen adorned with twinkling lights and many baubles.
The bookshop was fully dressed for the occasion. Two wreathes with cherry red bows hung on the double doors to greet any potential customers as they entered. The shop was now closed for the year, but not empty.
Inside it was brightly lit with candles and a fire burning in the hearth. Garlands of ivy graced the bookcases and somewhere was a traditional sprig of mistletoe, though it oddly kept disappearing from each place the shop owner tried to hang it.
One whole corner was taken up by a massive tree, fully covered from top to bottom branches with every kind of decoration. Chains of popcorn and cranberries crisscrossed the boughs. Candy canes were scattered here and there. Glossy old Christmas balls shone in the flickering light. Candles, and not electric lights, illuminated the tree; as the owner of the shop was rather old fashioned. The many religious ornaments of angels, doves, babes in a manger, lions and lambs, and the star topping the tree spoke of a strong spiritual connection. And since Aziraphale was an angel, he did indeed have a good reason for all the spiritual imagery.
Aziraphale and Crowley had spent the afternoon trimming the tree with yards of gold garlands and tinsel. Crowley couldn't see the point in making the tree look like it came out of a Christmas catalog, but he didn't complain. It was the first time Aziraphale had asked him to help decorate the shop and the demon hadn't been about to say no.
"There!"
Aziraphale stepped back from the tree and observed it with satisfaction.
"I think that looks rather nice," he said to Crowley.
Crowley stuck his hands in his jeans pockets.
"I suppose," he said, glancing at the monument over his sunglasses. All he could see was one giant glimmer. They had probably overdone it with the tinsel.
Aziraphale seemed very happy with the tree.
"Excellent!" the angel murmured, closing up ornament boxes stuffed with tissue paper. "Time to get out the gifts."
"Gifts? You mean, like Christmas presents?"
"Of course! I can use your arms, Crowley."
Whatever Crowley had anticipated, he wasn't prepared for the volume of packages the angel produced from the cupboard. Box after box were piled on each other until Crowley couldn't see over the top of them. Just when Crowley wasn't sure if he could hold any more, Aziraphale announced that was the last one.
Crowley stumbled in what he thought was the direction of the tree.
"Are you sure you have enough, angel?" he asked in a tone of mockery. "You have enough gifts here to supply all of London's East End."
"Nonsense, Crowley. I just got something for everyone we know."
"Do we know this many people?"
Crowley dropped the pile onto the coffee table between the sofa and the tree.
"There's Newt and Anathema," Aziraphale said.
"That's two."
"And their newborn."
"Yup, that's three."
"Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy."
"That's five."
"Adam Young, Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian."
"Nine total," Crowley announced.
Aziraphale wasn't finished however. "Then of course, there are all the other shopkeepers on the street."
Crowley stopped arranging the colourful packages under the tree to stare at him. "Aziraphale, your shop is on a crossroads. There are two streets here."
"I know."
"You're telling me you got a gift for everyone on these two streets."
"Yes!" Aziraphale beamed.
"There has to be over twenty shops!" Crowley said.
"There is," Aziraphale said. "I made fudge for Mr. Johnson, (he owns the sandwich shop down on the left, huge sweet tooth), then for Maggie-"
"Okay, okay, I get it." Crowley threw his hands in the air. "You're bighearted and you like everyone."
Aziraphale smiled a little apologetically. "I guess I do. It's my nature."
"I know it," Crowley said.
"By the way," Aziraphale said, "I got something for you."
He sorted through the packages until he pulled out a small box wrapped in orange paper and tied with a green bow.
"You didn't have to do that." Crowley felt all warm and embarrassed, taking the box.
"Well, you are my best friend," the angel said. It had taken him over six thousand years to admit it, but there was no longer any reason why he shouldn't acknowledge the truth now.
Crowley smiled. Some days his smiles were short and far between. Winter was not his favourite season, but it was difficult to be gloomy during the holidays, even for him.
"Since you insist, here's something from me."
Crowley produced a package from behind a sofa cushion. It was wrapped in yellow paper with a blue ribbon.
It was Aziraphale's turn to be embarrassed.
"We've never gotten each other gifts before," the angel said, holding the box cautiously, as if it were made of glass.
Crowley shrugged. "As you said, It's Christmas."
Aziraphale placed the gift carefully on the coffee table, which was still covered with packages, all the ones that hadn't fit under the tree. The sofa was looking very inviting to him. He had an idea in mind, but he wasn't sure how Crowley would take it.
"Um, Crowley…"
"Hmmm?…" The demon was poking at the fire with a fire iron. Then he put another log on the coals.
"What would you say to a Christmas story?"
Crowley straightened up. "A story?"
"Yes."
Crowley thought for a moment. "Sounds good to me."
Aziraphale felt happy relief flood over him.
Perhaps it was a silly idea, especially for two supernatural entities, but Crowley was fine with it. Aziraphale enjoyed reading and Crowley was perfectly ready to listen.
Crowley loved books, but reading was rather an interesting challenge for him due to his reptilian eyes. Unless the light caught the words on the page just so, the task of reading turned into a mortal difficulty. The demon hadn't told the angel as much about his hindrance, but Aziraphale seemed to sense the problem without dwelling on the matter. Crowley had said he didn't read and yet the bookcase at his flat throughly debunked this declaration. Aziraphale was just too polite to say anything directly.
The two settled on the sofa with mugs of hot cocoa. Cocoa was best for Christmas stories, even if one of them might have preferred wine. The alcohol could wait.
Aziraphale selected a book from the stack he had collected on the coffee table. Reading 'A Christmas Carol' was traditional, but he opted for something different. Aziraphale opened the cover of 'One Wintry Night' and flipped to the first page.
He began to read in a clear voice, slowly and meticulously. Before he turned the pages, the beautiful illustrations had to be admired. He came to the third chapter.
"In the Beginning, the earth was shapeless and empty; and darkness was over the face of the deep. Then God began to move…"
"I remember that night," Crowley said.
Aziraphale stopped and looked up from the book. "Crowley, you can't possibly remember it. We weren't even there."
"I'm not talking about the Almighty speaking the universe into existence, angel. I'm talking about back in Bethlehem over two thousand and twenty years ago. When He became man."
Aziraphale closed the book, using his finger for a bookmark. He got a distant expression in his blue eyes. "Yes, I remember it, too. What a strange and wonderful thing it was. He loved humans enough to lay aside his Godly attributes and live among them. The Word became flesh."
"I had my doubts at first." Crowley sipped his cocoa.
"It did raise questions," Aziraphale admitted. "Even I didn't understand. None of us did, actually."
"Born to die for the world," Crowley said. "Sacrifice for salvation. Shouldn't have worked. But it did."
"Yes, it did. Won't have worked if one of us had volunteered to do it. Because He's God and we are not."
Crowley nodded. "And Love is sacrifice."
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in a knowing way at his serpentine companion. "One might almost call it…"
"Ineffable," they said together, then laughed.
Aziraphale resumed reading, his voice accompanied by the slow, steady crackling of the fire. Crowley leaned back on the sofa, basking in the warmth, both from the fire and from friendship.
Outside night had fallen. Cool flakes of white were slowly drifting to the ground, muffling the world in a blanket of snow.
Candlelight danced with the shadows on the fresh cover, playing silent tribute to the battle between Good and Evil, which had raged from the Beginning and would continue until the day when all would be renewed and the slate wiped clean, just like the snow.
As Aziraphale read about the nativity, the fire in the grate burned low. The light reflected on the glass ornaments on the tree and the holly and ivy on the mantel.
Two stockings hung there; one sliver, the other gold. Names were stitched in cursive across the tops; one for an angel, who wasn't quite so perfect as he liked to think, and one for a demon who did not so much fall as saunter vaguely towards redemption.
Each stocking held an orange in the toe and waited to be opened, like the rest of the world in the silent night, waiting eagerly for the dawn of Christmas morning.
Merry Christmas, Peace on earth and Goodwill towards men.
The End