Work Text:
The City of London 1666
August
“Cromwell wasn't a bad man, Crowley.” Aziraphale was saying as he deposited a few coins into a beggar’s tin.
“Yeah he was a real saint.” the demon grumbled, following in the angel’s wake.
“I never said that. He had good intentions at the start, is all.”
“Is that how all humans get into Heaven? Good intentions?” Crowley hissed, readjusting his glasses.
“I understand your frustration but there’s no use taking it out on me! I don’t decide who gets to go... upstairs” Aziraphale gave a nervous glance around them on the street, careful to keep his voice down.
“Whatever.” Crowley hissed, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just didn’t like the guy.”
“I know, my dear, you’ve made your opinion of the man quite plain.” Aziraphale fought back a smirk. He couldn’t help but feel a little amused at Crowley’s distaste for the late General Oliver Cromwell. After the esteemed General assumed the title of ‘Lord Protector’ of the British Isles, the Angel had taken to providing counsel. This human was, after all, the first European political leader to come from outside a monarchical family. It only made sense for Earth’s most experienced Angelic representative to stick close by—a personified moral compass.
Crowley appeared to get...envious of the attention his angelic friend was giving so freely to someone else. It wasn’t even just that though. Cromwell, in all his ‘good intentioned’ self-righteousness has made Crowley’s job infinitely more difficult. He’d gone to extreme lengths to put an end to drinking, gambling, and the like. It was nearly impossible to tempt anyone. They may have had the desire to be sinful, but humans can only do so much when their government literally keeps everything fun out of reach. That, and he obviously didn’t care for Crowley. Any time Crowley had checked in on the Angel and Cromwell was there, it was like he knew what Crowley was. It made the demon wonder if Oliver Cromwell knew what Aziraphale was too.
“Oh! Crowley! I nearly forgot…”
Aziraphale’s excitement snapped Crowley back into the present.
“Wot?”
“Over here, dear, this is the book vendor pop-up I mentioned this morning!”
“Oh yeah…” Crowley lied; he most definitely didn’t remember any sort of conversation about some silly new book vendor. He found it difficult to pay very much attention to Aziraphale’s passionate tirades about his precious books. He tried to care, he really did, for the Angel’s sake.
“Oh these will be perfect for the new shop!”
“Ahhh come on you weren’t serious about that.” Crowley whined.
“Yes. I am serious about it.” Aziraphale replied icily, “It’s just the thing to bring some positive energy back to this city. After everything that happened last year…”
Crowley grunted. The ‘black death’ had been a horrible affair for them both. The city of London was still quite the somber place, though Charles the Second was making impressive strides to improve his newly obtained kingdom.
“Even so…” Crowley continued, “you do realize that this thing with all these books is becoming an obsession, right?”
“Don’t be absurd!” Aziraphale gasped almost comically. Crowley had to bite back a laugh.
“Obsession, I’m sure you’ll remember,” Crowley continued, teasing, “leads to excess….excess leads to…” he got right behind the Angel and hissed in his ear “ssssssin—!”
“Oh stop it, will you!” Aziraphale swatted Crowley away while the demon chortled.
Crowley didn’t understand Aziraphale’s emotional reaction to the printed word, but still he stayed with the Angel as he gushed and fawned over page after page. It was over an hour before Aziraphale had bought up his fill and somehow convinced his demon counterpart to help him carry the lot of books to his newly acquired storefront.
Crowley looked around incredulously at the cluttered space. Books and scrolls everywhere …..
“Angel, you already have books! Why the Heaven do you need so many books?!”
“It’s to be a bookshop, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied, blushing, “having a lot of books is rather the point.”
Continuing to grumble, but not saying another word, Crowley helped unload the books Aziraphale had just purchased.
It took a while. Aziraphale kept getting distracted and picking up different volumes, reading passages and getting sucked in. Crowley was losing patience—something he had very little of you begin with. The Angel had agreed to getting drinks to go over upcoming assignments. It didn’t look like that was going to happen after all. Not with Aziraphale so enthralled with his collection. Crowley sighed loudly, but Aziraphale barely glanced up.
Crowley decided to be a little more aggressive about his frustration; he miracled a large flagon of wine with a snap of his fingers. Similarly, he conjured up a pair of goblets, then pointedly waved them in front of Aziraphale’s face. The Angel waved him away distractedly. He set down the goblets and shoved one noisily toward his friend—companion? Earth….partner? Acquaintance. Yes that was it.
Aziraphale simply turned the page of the book he was examining. Crowley poured the wine into the goblet with a flourish, a last effort for Aziraphale’s attention.
“No thank you, dear boy.” The Angel muttered vaguely, walking away with his eyes still firmly focused on his volume. With a huff, Crowley removed the stopper and drank heavily from the bottle, ignoring the goblets. If he wasn’t going to drink with the Angel, he’d be damned (well….damned again) if he wasn’t going to make up for it by drinking the Angel’s share as well as his own.
“Jus’ don’ understand why….you...you need all these...these book things.” Crowley grumbled, draining the flagon for the second time (it was kind enough to refuse to stay empty, making a binge much more convenient.)
“It’s knowledge. It’s documenting how the humans learn and develop, not just their minds, but their souls.” Aziraphale was getting tired of this conversation, especially because the more Crowley drank, the more he repeated himself...and the more rude his comments became.
“Make better furniture if ya ask me…”
Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley lounging lazily on a stack of books he seemed to have arranged into the shape of a chair. His feet rested upon a separate pile.
“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale whined, “I really wish you wouldn’t do that! You’re getting them all dirty…”
“‘M not….” Crowley slurred, “..’s jus’ mud.”
“Yes that’s rather my concern.” Aziraphale snapped, rather unangelically. He crossed to the demon and shoved his feet away from his precious books.
“Oi!” Crowley barked, “you’re the one who wanted to stay here insteaduv the tavern!”
“Yes, Crowley, I’m terribly sorry we’ve spent more time here than I anticipated, but that doesn’t mean you have to disrespect my work.”
“‘Sss fine. Le’s jus’ go now!”
“Crowley, I’m much too busy. And I’m fairly certain you have already had more than enough to drink as it is.” Aziraphale snapped again.
Crowley glared, leaning back against the books with a particularly demonic grin.
“Doesn’ seem like all thisss is doin’ you any good , Angel. Wha’s the point of all this knowledge you’re reading if it’s only makin’ you all grumpy and boring?”
“Boring? Grumpy ? Oh that is rich coming from you!” Aziraphale scoffed, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was angry now. It would have been a good time to stop pushing his luck with the Angel, but Crowley had never been very good about knowing when to stop.
“‘M jus’ sayin I don’ get it!” Crowley laughed, rather unwisely.
“Well I’m not surprised.”
“Wot’s tha’ supposed to mean?”
“Well you’ve not exactly shown much interest in academia.”
“‘M not stupid, Aziraphale.”
“Then you must be a remarkable actor, because you could have fooled me!”
Crowley started to get up, then lost his balance and fell back with a grunt. The movement jostled Aziraphale’s forgotten goblet of wine and suddenly scarlet liquid spilled and immediately ruined any parchment nearby.
“DAMN IT CROWLEY.” The Angel lost his temper like the crack of a whip.
“‘M sorry! I didn’ mean to—!”
“Yes, yes of course! You never mean to ruin things but you just do! You’re a demon, of course you do!”
The outburst was enough to sober him up. Crowley blinked.
“Angel….I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—.”
“Crowley I understand that you don’t get why I love these books—collecting them, reading them, studying them—but I do. I love this and it’s important to me! You don’t have to understand that to respect it!”
“I’m sorry. I am. Let me help you clean it up—.” Crowley grabbed a rag and tried to mop up the mess. In his haste, few pages of one of the books ripped….
“Don’t—! Crowley, please just go.”
“But I just—.”
“Go.”
Crowley did.
Crowley couldn’t remember the last time the Angel had been so cross with him… at least, not over something so trivial. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but it bothered him quite a lot. His cheeks stung like he’d been slapped.
The streets of London were a bleak place. Which is a pretty fitting backdrop for a thoroughly disappointed demon trudging back to his own residence.
His first instinct was to drink, but for the first time he could remember, getting inebriated didn’t sound appealing.
He sat on the overstuffed stray mattress and immediately jumped back up again upon finding his bed was already occupied.
“Oi! Who the hell—?!”
“Hullo, Crawly.”
“What d’you want, Hastur?” Crowley growled and scrubbed his hand down his face.
“Suppose’ to pass along an offer…” the Duke of Hell did not seem pleased with his task.
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I….am extremely busy.”
The truth was Crowley hadn’t had an assignment in quite some time, and he was rather enjoying filling his demonic quota in his own mischievous way. That, and he was preoccupied with thoughts of the Angel and how mad he’d been when Crowley left.
“Don’ you wanna know wot the job is?” Hastur seemed surprised, and almost...hopeful? If demons were capable of such a thing.
“What’s it to you?” Crowley asked suspiciously.
“For the sake uv the official records… you wan to pass on the opportunity?”
“Fine,” Crowley snapped, frustrated. He crossed his arms and removed his glasses so Hastur could see him roll his eyes and glare. “Yeah alright. Yessss. I pass.”
“Wonderful.” Hastur cackles with an unearthly gurgle.
“Why…?”
“T’s nuffin. Old buzz-brain said I could ‘ave the job if you didn’ wan’ it.” Hastur shrugged like it was no big thing.
Crowley barely cared enough to ask the question in the first place, so he shrugged and began shoving Hastur off his bed.
“Yes yes. Fan-bloody-tastic. Congratulations, big guy. No off you go. Got a job to do, don’t ya? Well ta! Thanks for coming…. now get outta here so I can get rid of the grease stains you’ve left on my bed.”
Crowley collapsed on the bed after miracling a new linen cover (he wasn’t kidding about the grease). He stayed at the ceiling for a long time. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep… but he knew that he needed to give Aziraphale some space. It’d be best if he kept his distance for a while. Maybe a week or so would do it. Surely by then, the Angel will have forgotten about the whole bookish mishap. Maybe Crowley would find him some new books to make up for it. He could practically see Aziraphale’s face light up as he saw Crowley’s arms full of new books.
‘Oh Crowley!’ he’d say with that sparkling smile, ‘My dear you’re too kind! This really wasn’t necessary! Of course I forgive you! Think nothing of it, old chap!’
With that Crowley smiled and let his eyes close. Maybe he would sleep for a while. Better than waiting around impatiently for Aziraphale to stop being so ruffled up.
Besides, this way, he could dream of whatever it was he liked best—which usually ended up being Aziraphale.
You’d have thought the screams would have been the thing to wake him. If not the screams, then the flames inching their way into his rooms. Crowley is a demon. An environment filled with screams and sweltering heat from all consuming fire isn’t exactly new.
No, the fire didn’t rouse him.
What did it was a flash of pain that burst suddenly from his head, practically forcing his eyes open.
Crowley shot upright with a yelp. He’d been thinking about the Angel in his sleep…only to be woken up by the sickening certainty that that particular Angel was in peril.
Crowley looked around, wondering why the walls were flickering...and why the air around him seemed...blurry.
Smoke.
Oh shit.
Fire.
Crowley jumped up and opened the door only the be met with a blast of heat. Damn. He’d have to go out the window….
When he reached it and looked out, he finally heard the screams. It had all been white noise up until this moment. But now it was ear-splitting. And for good reason. The entire street was ablaze with fire so aggressive, it might have been sentient.
Oh Christ. Hastur…. that stupid job. Hell fire.
Without another thought, Crowley lept from the second story window and landed lightly on his feet. Everywhere he looked families were screaming, crying out for loved ones, seeking refuge from the inferno. Crowley wasted no more time and took off running towards the bookshop.
Before he could reach the Angel, he heard a particular scream. More raw...innocent. The voice shrieked “Mamma! Mamma wake up!”
Crowley felt his stomach drop. It took only a moment for him to spot the little boy through a broken window. He couldn’t have been more than two years of age. Crowley felt for the mother’s aura...she was there in the same room, but only barely. She must not have been roused in time to escape the smoke...and the little boy wouldn’t leave his mother behind….
Crowley cursed and changed his course, running instead to the front door.
Inside, the fire raged in earnest. Timber crackled and crumbled all around him. Bits of sizzling wood and straw fluttered to the ground. It occurred to the demon that perhaps the humans relied too heavily on trees and hay to build their...well everything. The entire city was likely to become a kiln within the hour. None of them had much time.
Crowley blinked and ran up the stairs as quickly as his corporal legs would carry him. The steps groaned and complained, as if warning the demon to hurry up already before there were no more stairs to climb.
Crowley obliged and took the stairs two at a time the rest of the way up.
He could still hear the little boy crying even over the roar of the flames as they consumed the structure greedily, never satisfied. Crowley braces himself and throws his whole body weight into the door. It probably wasn’t necessary considering the whole place was weakened to the point of coming down with only a brief gust of wind.
He tumbled into the room rather clumsily. He looked up and meet the eyes of a very small boy. Wide, warm, brown eyes stared, filled with terror and still more tears. The boy screamed even louder than before. That’s when Crowley realized he’d forgotten his glasses back in his rooms.
Dammit.
Crowley pushed aside his own self loathing for the moment and focused on the child in front of him, now trying to hide beneath his mother's limp arms.
“Hey. Hey hey hey… ‘Salright. I’m not going to hurt you…. or your mother. I wanna get you both out of here, alright?”
It took a few moments, but the fire creeping ever closer seemed to be the more prominent danger. The boy nodded frantically, fresh tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.
“Okay. Good lad. Wha’s your name?”
“L-L-Lucas….”
“That’s a good strong name, that is. My name is Crowley. Bit odd, I know. Now we know each other, what do you say we get out of here?” and the demon held out his hand for the boy to take. But Lucas would not take it. He held on tight to his mother’s hand.
“M-mamma…” he sniffled our.
“Of course, darling, of course. We’re not going anywhere without mother.” Crowley assured him gently.
He lifted the young woman easily and threw her over his shoulder before kneeling down again to Lucas. The toddler hesitated for only a moment before putting his tiny arms around Crowley’s neck, clinging desperately to this stranger.
“Well done. Don’t let go, alright?”
Without waiting for an answer, Crowley bolted from the room. He cradled Lucas’s head and extended his demonic tolerance of Hell Fire to the child and his mother. He stumbled through the collapsing structure letting Lucas’s terrified cries in his ear motivate him to move faster still.
As he finally made it out the entryway, other humans rushed forward to help. A few woman reached for Lucas, but the little boy wouldn’t let go.
“Help her help her. ” Crowley grumbled, indicating the mother still hanging limply over his shoulder. The small crowd did so and Crowley got on his knees so Lucas’s feet could touch the ground.
“Kid...kid you gotta let go.”
Lucas loosened his grip, but just enough to look Crowley in the eyes.
But this time the boy didn’t flinch. He just looked at the demon and asked, “What about Mamma?”
“We’re gonna help her, okay. But I have a very important job for you. You up for it?”
Lucas nodded firmly, losing his scared expression for a tough face.
“Good boy. Now come here.” Crowley smiled and turned back to the boy’s mother.
“I’m going to help her. I need you to be strong and hold her hand. Okay?”
Lucas diligently grabbed his mother’s hand.
The demon looked into her aura again and saw that she’d most likely inhaled too much smoke. Using a minor demonic miracle, he coaxed the smoke from her lungs and nudged her consciousness. The young woman gasped and began coughing harshly.
“‘Sokay! ‘Salright…. breathe.”
“Mamma!”
“Lucas!”
Crowley smiled, he was glad to have helped, but suddenly it was far too much love for him to take. It was making his head throb and his chest ache. He let out a pained hiss and backed away before any of the humans noticed him.
Besides, he had something else rather important to do.
He’d already lost so much time getting to the Angel.
He took off running again and rounded a couple of sharp corners in hopes of getting to the book shop faster.
But evidently, not fast enough. The entire square was burning. He slowed to a stop and closed his eyes, reaching into the celestial plane to check for the Angel’s vibrant spirit.
He searched until his head hurt again, when he found nothing, his first thought was to panic.
Fortunately, one of the humans Aziraphale had befriended in his time in London saw Crowley and recognized him. Phillip? Felix? He couldn’t remember the name, but Crowley was fairly certain the man was a baker. He owned a patisserie not far from where the stood now.
“Mr. Fell left!” He shouted, obviously noticing Crowley’s urge to dive into the flames to be certain that he’d done everything to save Mr. Fell .
“What?” Crowley wasn’t sure he heard him properly.
“He got out before the flames reached this street!”
“You’re sure?!”
“Yeah I saw him leave myself!”
Crowley’s laugh of pure relief was lost in the roar of the fire, but Phillip or Felix or whatever-his-name-was… saw the relief on Crowley’s face. He smiled back and continued on his way with his wife, rushing with the rest of the screaming citizens to get out of the city limits. Crowley turned back to the shop, still smiling—thrilled to bits that the Angel was smart enough to get the hell out. The demon really wasn’t sure how he would react if he’d lost Aziraphale. He hadn’t given it much thought before. And being two supernatural beings, he’d never had to worry about “death”... but this was Hell Fire. If Aziraphale were to get burned...that would be it. He’d lose his best friend...the most important thing in the whole world to him.
His smile fell as another thought occurred to him. Damn he was so selfish! Here he was thanking someone that his Angel was safe...when the most important thing to the Angel was burning in Hell Fire right in front of him… and he was just standing there like an idiot!
He knew he couldn’t save all of them, but if he could at least save some of the books, maybe Aziraphale would forgive him for what happened the other day. His mind was made up. He dove in.
It was hot—hotter than he remembered Hell being. It was as though the flames knew just how important these books were...just how much it would hurt the Angel to lose them.
He tried to make quick work of it. He dashed in and grabbed an armful of volumes and manuscripts and folios, then dashed back out to set them down safely in the street.
Then he turned right back around to get more.
He did this several more times, ignoring how his clothes and hair were singed. He was so focused on his task, he failed to notice the ominous creaking and cracking sounds from the floor above. The whole building was coming down fast...but there were still so many books… Crowley couldn’t bare to let Aziraphale down.
Besides, it was Hell Fire...it could burn him, temporarily, but he’d be fine!
What he didn’t account for was falling debris...rather large falling debris. He’d just grabbed a large stack of books and several scrolls when a beam supporting the floor above relented to the flames and collapsed. The base smacked Crowley on the back of his head with a force that would have instantly killed a human. Instead, it knocked him utterly unconscious.
Aziraphale had noticed the hellish presence immediately. His first thought was Crowley. Though, certainly not because he was worried about him. Definitely not because it had been two weeks and he was feeling terribly guilty for being so thoroughly unkind to Crowley over something as trivial as a few stains on his books—especially because he had miracled them away in an instant.
He definitely wasn’t slightly hopeful that it was Crowley’s presence….and he most assuredly wasn’t disappointed to realize quite quickly that it wasn’t Crowley’s energy he was sensing at all.
He put down his notes cataloging his inventory and went to the door. Something was happening down the street...at the bakery. At Thomas Farriner’s bakery.
He stepped outside to get a closer look. The moment he left the shop, he felt the horrible certainty that Hell was present. Before he’d really given it another thought, Aziraphale was hastening towards the source.
He saw the flickering of flames and began to run (something he preferred not to do).
“Farriner! Ferriner ! Do you need assistance?”
“Mr. Fell! I’m afraid it might be too late! We have to warn the street! I can’t seem to put the fire out! It’s as if the flames have a mind of their own!”
Hell Fire …. Aziraphale realized with dread.
“You’re right—it’s no use trying to douse the flames!” Aziraphale rushes to Ferriner’s side as the baker prepares to toss another bucket of water. The human was getting frightfully close to putting himself in real danger. Obviously, he couldn’t know that this was no earthly fire.
“We must be quick—you go in that direction, wake up everyone you can and have them help you. I’ll go this way and do the same!”
They agreed and parted company.
Before long, the fire reached the city square and then onto the residential building. Aziraphale was able to wake most of the occupants but when he reached one specific set of rooms, he waited anxiously for a familiar face to come out among the humans…. but Crowley was nowhere to be seen. The Angel started to worry...but only a little. For all he knew, the demon could have escaped before he arrived. Aziraphale might have thought that Crowley abandoned London, but...this town was full of families...families with children. Crowley would never leave innocent children to die—especially not at the merciless hands of hell. Surely he was around here somewhere.
More screams brought Aziraphale out of his internal monologue and he snapped back into action. He would meet up with Crowley when all of this was over. Right now he had a job to do.
Dawn was breaking and there was still no sign of the fire burning out. However, most of the residents had been evacuated and led to safety outside of the city. Despite being surrounded by Hell Fire, the Angel was mostly unharmed. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, the only ailment he had to complain about was the fact that he had become so dreadfully tired. He’d used more miracles in the past 24 hours than he had used in the month preceding this disaster.
Still, Aziraphale would never forgive himself if there were people who could still be saved and he hadn’t helped them because he was a little worn out.
So he took to the streets again, extending his ethereal energy to pick up on any living soul that had become too weak to cry out for help.
His heart deflated when he came to pass his bookshop. All his books would be destroyed by now. There was no point in even…. but there were books. Right there on the street! A small collection of the books he’d been cataloging were in almost perfect condition. But how had they got—?
Suddenly he picked up on a soul. It was tainted and dark, but still there, and very familiar….and most definitely coming from inside the burning building in front of him.
“ CROWLEY !” Aziraphale stared at the shop in horror. He immediately ran to the door, only to fall back in pain as the Hell Fire sought out the angelic presence it must have sensed.
The Angel picked himself back up and looked around for something he could use to protect himself from the flames. All he could see were abandoned carts and bits of debris falling carelessly from the abandoned buildings. Well that would just have to do, wouldn’t it? Not a moment to waste, after all.
The Angel grabbed what must have been a door at one point covered himself with it. He seemed to have forgotten his tiredness; a sudden burst of energy took its place.
Before he really knew what he was doing, Aziraphale plunged himself into the inferno.
To say it was hot would have been inaccurate. To say it was sweltering would be a bit closer, but still not quite right. The truth was, it was Hell on Earth.
The Angel called out for his friend, desperate to find him before they were both doomed. Aziraphale could practically feel his skin sizzling just from being near the flames. He gasped in pain and the fire tried to lick at his exposed hands. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take when he spotted Crowley. He was on the floor, clearly unconscious, books that he had clearly had in his arms strewn about the floor. Still holding the door as a sort of shield, Aziraphale used one arm to grab Crowley around his waist and lift him into a standing position so he could wrap Crowley’s arm around his neck to stay upright while he led them both out.
Sweat poured down the Angel’s face like rivers in the dust and ash. As soon as they met the blissfully cool air outside, Aziraphale abandoned the door, tossing it to the side so he could have his other arm free to ease Crowley to the ground.
Just then, the demon stirred. And far too suddenly tried to stand and dash back into the burning building.
“Crowley! What the hell are you—?! Stop! STOP!”
Aziraphale grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but the demon was insistent and tried to fight the angel off. Crowley was in some sort of daze and after a moment, Aziraphale could just make out what he was saying.
“No… the Angel! His books… he needs… never f’give me…. jus’ a few more…”
“My dear boy, you must stop!” Aziraphale finally succeeded in getting Crowley to look at him. He seemed to recognize Aziraphale and his eyes grew wide in panic.
“ Angel! Oh fuck, Aziraphale I’m so sorry—I’m gon t’ try to get ‘em!” And he made to get up again, and almost succeeded. Aziraphale threw his arms around the demon’s waist this time and they both tumbled to the ground.
“Get what ?! Crowley, listen to me! Please stop! You’ll get yourself killed !”
“B-but… but yer books….”
“Oh sod the bloody books Crowley!”
That shut him up. Crowley stared at Aziraphale like he couldn’t believe what he just heard...which to be fair he couldn’t.
“But...the most importan’—!”
“Crowley please! Stop this. I already retrieved the most important item that was inside.”
“Oh-you foun’ the letters frm Alighieri?”
“No, you absolute imbecile!” Aziraphale chuckled fondly. “ You .”
“Wot? M-me…?”
“Yes, dear boy. What did you expect?” The Angel helped them both to stand again. He brushed some of the dirt from both of them, all the while eyeing the demon with concern.
Crowley opened his mouth then closed it again. He repeated this a few times before giving up and remaining in stunned silence. Suddenly he shut his eyes and winced, then reached a hand up to touch the back of his head gingerly.
“Ow…” he grumbled as he brought his hand back in front of him to see blood.
Aziraphale caught him just as his knees buckled.
“Alright, my dear. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
“M’fine…”
“Well… you soon will be.”
Once again, he draped Crowley’s arm around his shoulders to help him along.
“Oh! Just a moment.” Aziraphale awkwardly bent down to grab a volume from the pile of rescued books.
Crowley raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale caught his look and blushed.
“Oh don’t stare at me like that… you went through the trouble of saving them! It would be...impolite to just leave them behind…”
“Whatever you say, Angel.” Crowley smirked.
“Let’s get you out of here, my dear.”
“M’sorry….” Crowley mumbled after a few moments.
“Whatever for?”
“Hastur….”
“Dear, whatever a fellow demon did this… you can’t blame yourself.”
“Yeah...yeah I can.”
Aziraphale leaned forward to give his companion a puzzled look.
“Was suppose’ ta be my job… I said Hastur could have it… didn’ know wha’ the mission was… shoulda stopped him…”
“Crowley.” Aziraphale said calming. Stopping in his tracks.
“Listen to me very carefully. I reached out to...erm… upstairs... seeking help. It turns out Heaven knew about this. Only...it wasn’t supposed to be the whole damn city. The church—St. Paul’s Cathedral?”
Crowley nodded to show he was following.
“That was the target. It would seem Hastur got a touch carried away.”
Crowley scoffed.
“My point…” Aziraphale continued, ignoring the interruption, “is that you can’t blame yourself for what your colleague did...and you can’t dwell on things you didn’t do. We must move forward… speaking of which, we really should keep moving.”
“Lead the way, Angel.”
The rather strange pair made their way out of danger. When it eventually came time for them to go their separate ways, they did so with the understanding that whatever they had to face in the future...at least they wouldn’t be facing it alone.