GOOD OMENS 3
FireFenix
Chapter 7
Chapter 7 - Echoes of Eternity
Somehow, the Bentley had managed to arrive at the hotel without electrocuting the demon that drove it and the angel with whom he incessantly argued. Crowley had brought the extravagant car to a halt in front of The Balmoral, a castle-like elegant building of which the clock tower proudly stood out, rising above the city. It was located in Princess street, no less, and Edinburgh's main historic centre was practically across the street, St. Mary's cathedral looming tall close by. Eleyn, her curious mind running, couldn't help but stare out the car window at the mesmerizing city lights in the night; which gave Edinburgh that mix of beauty and eeriness for which it was well-known. The four occupants of the vehicle had descended and gone over to the reception desk, where they were told by a somewhat stunned receptionist that the Grand Suit had, by some sort of miracle, just become free. After that, they had enjoyed a delightfully expensive supper in the hotel's restaurant, which had gone by in complete silence except the occasional small sound which Aziraphale made when trying the first bite of a new dish; each time accompanied by a subtle glance from Crowley.
Now, after having settled in the luxurious room (Or, rather, flat; because it included a small living room, a kitchenette, a large marbled bathroom featuring shower and bath, and two bedrooms; each with two separated beds) and distributed the bedrooms, the verdict being that if Crowley and Aziraphale were put in the same room one of them would be murdered by dawn, Muriel and Eleyn enjoyed a cup of herbal tea one the small, round table near the window. The demon was taking a shower, and Aziraphale had locked himself in one of the rooms; so Muriel had resolved to explain the little she knew about the pair's situation to Eleyn.
- No way! - The latter exclaimed, heating her hands on the porcelain cup - They actually danced? -
- Honest to God - said Muriel - Saw it with my own two eyes - she took a sip of her tea.
- But that's adorable! - she excitedly squealed - Did you see who asked who? -
- Well, no - the angel explained - I was standing outside the bookshop, across the street. I had a limited view from the window -
- That's too bad - said Eleyn, raising the cup to her lips.
- I did see the looks, though - Muriel broke the silence after taking another sip.
- What looks? - said the other, leaning into the table, eyes ablaze with curiosity.
- The looks they gave each other, especially Aziraphale's towards Crowley - the angel flashed a small smile - I mean, I didn't know what it was I was seeing at first; but then I read the books and...well...it just seemed to click into place -
- You're going to have to give me more detail, Muriel - Eleyn playfully said - Exactly how were the looks? -
- Um... - she thought, then adjusted her posture - Well, you know in romance novels, when the main male character is at that stage where he's accepted his feelings but tries very hard not to make it too obvious , and then the main female character walks in looking absolutely stunning ? -
- Mmhm - she nodded fervently, then took another sip of tea.
- And he throws her a look up and down, like that - she mimicked the look she was describing - And literally has to stop himself from planting a kiss in her lips right there and then? -
- Yeah - Eleyn's eyes were wide open, and she couldn't help an excited little smile.
- Well, something like that, except Aziraphale is the male character and Crowley the female character - Muriel concluded her explanation with a chime.
- Aziraphale? - Eleyn seemed surprised - Well, that's rather counter-intuitive, isn't it? One might think the lustful looks would come from the demon, not from the angel -
- Oh, you've no idea how wrong you are - the cherub said with a smirk, then leaned in and lowered her voice - Now that I've read the books, and judging by the looks he gave Mr. Crowley, whatever thoughts were going through that angel's head, they were far from pure -
- Stop! - Eleyn squeaked, playfully slapping her arm - You're killing me, Muriel! Oh, they're so in love... it's so wholesome! -
- Yeah, I know - the cherub sighed with a small smile - At the beginning I thought it was horrible, an angel and a demon together, but when I saw those two...They're just made for each other, there' s no way around it. It's too bad that they're the only ones who seem not to realize that... - she took another sip of tea.
- Oh, come on - the other said - They're soulmates, they'll have to come round eventually, right? -
- With those two, who knows? - Muriel shrugged her shoulders - They might as well take another six thousand years -
- If we manage to get the world another six thousand years... - sighed Eleyn.
- And that is precisely the problem! - Muriel lamented - I mean, don't get me wrong, you know I'm the most optimistic of angels; but I genuinely don't believe there's a way we can pull this off without them working together, as one -
- What do you mean? - Eleyn asked in a near whisper.
- You see, apart they are about as powerful as any other regular angel or demon, perhaps slightly stronger; due to the six thousand years of experience - she took a breath and set her empty teacup down on the small table - But together they become something else entirely. They become powerful, Eleyn. Very, very powerful. Certainly powerful enough to oppose the Metatron -
- But that won't happen if they're jumping at each other's throats every two seconds - the Daughter of God realized.
- Exactly -
- Well, we ought to talk to them, then, right? - Eleyn suggested - Try and knock some sense into them, no? -
- I don't know if that's a good idea... - Muriel closed her eyes and took a breath - What they need is to just listen to each other; to really talk, rather than argue - she reopened her eyes.
- But, given the enormous implications, don't you think it's at least worth a shot? - the other insisted.
- I... - the scrivener thought for a moment - I suppose there really is nothing to lose -
- That's what I like to hear! - Eleyn finished her tea as well and put the mug down - So, I do Aziraphale and you do Crowley? -
- No - Muriel's answer was sharp and immediate- I should be the one to talk to Aziraphale -
Eleyn had already opened her mouth to ask why, her curious mind ablaze, when the sound of running water coming from the bathroom suddenly subsided; a clear sign that the demon would walk out of it moments after, which he did, so she resolved to end the conversation instead.
Crowley didn't need showers, not really, but the feeling of cold water running down his bare back put him at such ease that he'd taken the habit of doing it every single day. Normally, the icy coldness would numb his mind in such a way that all his worries, all his problems, simply disappeared from the face of the Earth. He would just stand there, beneath the water, eyes closed shut; and let the drops calmly slide from his hair to his face, down past his nose and towards the neck; not without first gracing his lips. Then, he'd feel them running on his naked torso, past his middle and to his thigh before finally going down his calf and landing on the floor next to his feet. Normally, the drops of water would be the only thing in his mind, pushing away every other notion. But today was different. A single thought consumed him and the water, though well-below freezing point, had no effect on him whatsoever.
Aziraphale...
- No! - he hissed, his fingers curling into fists.
His body began to tremble, which for a Demon is never good, and he suddenly felt something warm on his skin which made a shiver travel up his spine, his every hair standing as it went along. It was a tear, a warm drop of water which emanated from the demon's eyes, creating an extraordinary contrast with the frigid water that showered him. His breaths felt short as his mind flickered back to the angel, and Crowley swore in a low hiss as he pictured his gorgeous cerulean eyes. More tears followed the first as the mere notion of Aziraphale's presence in his life drowned him in an abyss of despair, choking him like a rope around the neck. So close, yet...
Angel...
Crowley wrapped his arms around his middle, cradling his own naked body, and he let himself cry, because he could never be good enough. How could he be? He was nothing but a filthy snake, and Aziraphale was the embodiment of goodness and perfection. The fact that he'd even had the audacity to think...
Us...
With a guttural and primal roar, which was thankfully silenced by the sound of the shower, Crowley dug his fist into the wall, breathing heavily, blood-shot golden eyes lined with tears of rage. He froze there, his whole body going rigid for a few long moments, his wet, red hair dangling in front of his face, temporarily blinding him. Then, he slowly released the tension, separating his fist from the small crack it had created on the concrete wall, and stared up helplessly into the falling water, which made a futile effort to wash away his tears while brushing his hair out of his face.
- Shit... - he hissed, his voice trembling so much he could barely speak - Goddammit... -
When he'd finally managed to compose himself, at least to some degree, Crowley turned the water off and stepped out of the shower with a slight shiver. He slipped back into his underwear, much-too-tight black jeans and slim turtleneck, throwing his usual silver scarf around his neck. Before getting out of the bathroom, the demon opened one of the free hotel combs, carefully brushed and styled his hair in a slicked-back look; and hid his reddened eyes behind his dark shades. After staring at the door for a few seconds, the demon opened it and quietly slithered his way to the comfortable sofa.
The Metatron looked into the dark, empty eyes of the creature with whom he'd formed an unlikely alliance; and the creature stared right back at him. His imposing, 500 foot frame and fiery skin, alongside the many horns which protruded from his head, were meant to inflict fear and terror in the poor souls who had the misfortune to see him; yet The Metatron wasn't the slightest bit afraid. The voice of God wasn't even vaguely concerned about the fact that it was absolutely furious; and making this particular creature angry was, in general terms, a very, very bad idea. He was known as The Great Adversary and Master of Hell; though most mortals, angels and demons would often refer to him as Satan.
- YOU HAVE LET HIM ESCAPE FROM RIGHT BENEATH YOUR NOSE, METATRON! - The Adversary spoke, spitting ash out of his mouth.
- And you allowed him to walk Hell right beneath your nose, my dear ally - the other said, smugly brushing the ash off his suit - It appears we both underestimated those two bastards -
- THAT SCUM... - said Satan - HAVE THEY DISCOVERED OUR INTENTIONS? -
- Not yet - The Metatron said - But it won't take long for them to figure it out -
-I WILL SEND ALL THE DEMONS IN HELL! - the Devil proudly proclaimed - THE TRAITOROUS ANGEL AND THE BASTARD CROWLEY WILL BE DESTROYED, ONCE AND FOR ALL! -
-Hold on now, dear fellow - the ethereal being calmly said - I know you desire nothing more than to quench your bloodthirst; but may I remind you that the child is with them? - he raised his eyebrows - We cannot risk the Daughter being hurt, under any circumstance. She must perform the seven signs, or all of this will be for nothing -
- AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU PROPOSE WE DO? - Inquired Satan, leaning menacingly towards The Metatron.
- We watch them closely - Metatron didn't even blink - And we wait for the child to perform six signs; maybe even give them a little...nudge -
- OUR RESPECTIVE SIDES WILL REALIZE SOMETHIG IS AMISS IF WE ASK THEM TO DO THAT - The Adversary observed.
- Not if we do it correctly - the other explained - They will believe their mission is merely to retrieve the gospel -
- BY DOING THIS YOU RISK THEM FINDING OUT ABOUT OUR PLANS - Satan wasn't very convinced.
- It doesn't matter if they know. Can't you see? - The Metatron never raised his voice - No angel in heaven or demon in hell will believe them; and the only thing that matters is that the Daughter is in Heaven, next to me, when she performs the seventh sign -
- AND HOW DO YOU INTEND FOR THAT TO HAPPEN? - like every decent demon, Satan trusted no one, not even his shadow; which in retrospect is actually quite logical, seeing as he didn't usually have a shadow.
- Oh, I have a fun idea for that - the ethereal being's eyes sparkled with evilness, and a mischievous smile crossed his face - You simply make sure that my side doesn't find out about the true nature of our...little agreement, and leave the rest to me -
- YOUR ANGELS HAVE ALREADY BEEN FOOLED BY THE SIGNED PACT OF ALLIANCE. THEY BELIEVE HEAVEN AND HELL WANT THE SAME; THEY SUSPECT NOTHING -
- And it should remain that way; at least until it's too late for them to stop us - The Metatron insisted - Send your battalions when I tell you to, my unlikely friend, and before you know it we shall have victory -
Aziraphale sat on the edge of the small bed, alone in the darkened room. He could have turned on the lights, but he really didn't feel like it. The little light which did graze the angel's skin came from the moonlight filtered through the small window at which he stared absentmindedly. A single thought, a single image, invaded his mind as he slowly and reverently caressed his lips with trembling fingers.
When he closed his eyes, Aziraphale could still feel the tingly, wonderful sensation of Crowley's lips pressed flush against his in what had been both a desperate attempt to make the angel stay and an outburst of unspoken feelings which had been quietly marinating for over six thousand years. That day, Crowley had given him his heart; and the angel had been forced to throw it away. Now, as a result, the demon despised him.
Crowley...
Aziraphale's fingers recoiled away from his lips as the demon's eyes materialized in his mind. Deep, golden, breathtaking; and full of hatred. The image, as clear as water, knocked the air out of him and tears began finding their way down the angel's face. It was a truth that he hadn't wanted to admit; but it was more obvious with each passing moment. Crowley hated him.
And it wasn't just an impression or a gut-feeling; Aziraphale could sense the despise oozing off the demon. It was everywhere, all the time; and the worst part was that he deserved it. Though he hadn't really had a choice, the angel hated himself for what he had done to Crowley; for the pain he'd caused him. Aziraphale had torn him apart. He had said terrible, awful things; he had broken his heart, and then simply walked away. He had done it to protect him, but that didn't change the fact that the angel was a monster.
Aziraphale covered his mouth with a shaking hand as the moral heaviness of his actions began crushing down on him; tears now positively cascading down his face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and slowly let his head drop, crying all the tears he had wanted to cry for the past three years.
Crowley...
- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... - he whispered between sobs.
The conflict between guilt and love within him slowly tared him apart from the inside. He wanted Crowley, he longed for Crowley's love; but he knew perfectly well that he didn't deserve it, not after what he'd done. Aziraphale had earned every bit of despise that the demon felt towards him; and nothing could change that. But it still pained his heart, which was why he was trying to bring himself to hate the demon. Aziraphale though that, perhaps, that way it wouldn't be as painful. However, the fact that he simply couldn't bring himself to despise Crowley for even a second made him even angrier; not towards the demon per se, just angrier in general. He began to shake, though he wasn't cold, and he finally reopened his reddened eyes, letting out a gasp. The mere thought of Crowley asfixiated him. So close, yet...
We could've been us...
He raised his head, facing the moon, opening his blood-shot eyes wide, his breathing reminiscent of a bull prepared to charge.
- Are you happy now?! - He cried out to Her - Have you made him suffer enough?! -
Of course, there was no reply. Why would there be? There never was. She didn't care.
- What sort of a Plan is this?! What the hell are you playing at?! - he had to stop to take a breath - Why can't you just leave him alone?! Why can't you leave them all alone?! They have done nothing to you! NOTHING! -
He had run out of breath again. Aziraphale knew that The Metatron was technically acting in disaccordance to the Plan; but She was doing nothing to stop him. This fact had shattered his faith, adding to the ever-growing mess in his mind. He simply had no clue what to do, or what to believe. He felt lost. So he just continued to cry, wrapping his arms around his body and slowly rocking back and forth, until the sound of the door being opened forced him out of his trance.
With a quick glance, the angel determined it was Muriel whose head popped through the threshold and, turning his head back towards the window, he dried his tears as best as he could; though it wasn't much use, seeing as his reddened, puffed-up eyes already gave away the fact he'd been crying.
- Aziraphale? - she said softly, making a point not to let the door creak - You aren't sleeping, are you? -
- I wouldn't even dare to try - the angel replied with a sad chuckle. There was a moment of silence, and he sniffed, trying his very best not to break down in front of the scrivener - Though I was enjoying the loneliness, Muriel - Aziraphale attempted to make it sound as less rude as possible.
- No, you weren't - she replied with a sweet smile, stepping inside and carefully closing the door behind her - Angels shouldn't lie - she promptly went around to the bed and sat beside him, turning on the little lamp on the bedside table with a gesture as she walked past - Most of the time, anyway. Are you okay? - she knew Aziraphale had been crying from the moment she'd opened the door.
- Yes, fine - he said, avoiding eye contact - tip top, absolutely tickety-boo - he fidgeted with his hands, attempting to hide their shakiness.
- I think I'll take that as a no - Muriel whispered, finally catching the angel's eyes as he turned his head to her.
- Gosh, nothing gets past you, does it, Inspector Constable? - he sighed, holding back a sob.
- Not after reading all the Sherlock Holmes books - she said, her voice warm and soothing - I really like books, you know. They're like people, only portable. And they don't tend to talk back as much -
- Yeah - a sad smile played on his lips - I like books, too -
- Do you know what my favorite ones are? - Aziraphale looked at her with the sort of face one would make if starting a conversation was the last thing they wanted - It's those ones where, in the end, the protagonist realizes that they're not alone, and that there are people who love them -
- Metaphors, too? - the angel sarcastically remarked, his eyebrows shooting upwards - You really are a fast learner -
- Aziraphale, please - she gently wrapped the angel's wrist in her hand - You must realize this has gotten out of hand. You have to talk to him -
- You've seen how well that usually goes - he looked away from her, his voice breaking.
- That's not talking, it's madly rambling at each other - Muriel explained - Can't you see? Neither of ever say what you're really thinking. You've got to actually speakto him -
- The last time we actually talked, things didn't turn out so well - Aziraphale whispered, tears beginning to accumulate in his eyes once again.
- Only because you had to make sure of it - Muriel whispered back without hesitation.
Aziraphale stared up at her in shock. He hadn't at all expected that reply, and the immediate terror in his eyes only proved that further. There was a long silence in which they simply stared at each other. The angel opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again, and closed it one more time.
- How did you...? - his brain still hadn't fully recovered the ability to put words together.
- For some reason, our bosses always tend to forget that certain angels have an extraordinary sense of hearing - she calmly explained.
- You were at the café - Aziraphale realized - You overheard us -
-Every word - she whispered.
-You've...- he had to pause to stop himself from crying - You've known for the past three years? -
- I have, yes - the scrivener nodded.
- You could've told him, all along... - a tear began to roll down his cheek, and he dried it immediately - And yet...you didn't -
- Because it's not my place to do so - she placed her other hand on his shoulder – It's yours -
- I... - the swirl of emotions now coursing through the angel choked his words -I can't, Muriel-
- I know you're trying to protect him, Aziraphale - Muriel insisted - but The Metatron is going to try to kill us all anyway, so what's the point of keeping the secret? Just tell him -
- It's not that simple - he shook his head, once again looking out the window at the vast night sky - I've known Crowley for a long time. I know that if he was told the truth, he would go head to head against The Metatron without a second thought; and that's a battle he cannot win - he turned back to the scrivener - Either way, his hatred is the least I deserve; so there really is no point in telling him -
- First of all, he doesn't hate you. Second; what do you mean, you deserve it? - Muriel inquired, slightly taken aback - Aziraphale, you acted purely out of love. You saved him; you did the right thing -
- Then why did it feel so wrong? - the angel's trembling voice shattered into a million little pieces as tears began to flow freely once again and the scrivener, in an attempt to soothe him, began to slowly and carefully trace circles on Aziraphale's back with the palm of her hand.
You are going to get old waiting for me to upload a new chapter, I know. I do apologize; but, in my defence, I did warn you. Also, a bit of a horter chapter this time around. Like always, thank you, you beautiful person, for taking a few precious minutes out of your precious day to read my little story. A million hanks for the super-supporting comments, please feel free to review (for good or for bad) and...yeah, thanks for bearing with me :)
Formalities aside, this is getting interesting! The Metatron is plotting something big and, whilst I'm speaking about him, wow the psychological abuse on poor Azira is heavy. (Yes, I know, I wrote it myself, but still. Poor fellas)
I do hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I enjoy writing and have an ineffably wonderful...eh...week, weekish? Listen, I do my best :)
