Chapter Text
At the beginning of time, snakes didn’t have a bad reputation. Nothing did, because there was no history to base a reputation on, and nobody had any experience with venomous creatures yet.
Perhaps the reputation could’ve been avoided, and snakes would have gained a reputation similar to that of cats as rat removers, if they had decided that their personality wouldn’t have involved lashing out from unexpected places so often. (Though cats do that too, arguably with more fur and less venom.)
But it wasn’t snakes fault, no. Their first tale to be written down in history, was caused by an impostor. A being blessed with powers to allow them to appear as a snake. Lounging on a rock, sleepily musing to a curious Eve, that they didn’t understand why the apples were off limits anyway. A white snake, with golden eyes.
———————————
Aziraphale was far more fond of specific humans than any demon should rightfully be. But it was easy to hang around people with influence and intelligence because he could argue that he was twisting them into using their influence for evil. Not asking for an autograph on a scroll or inviting them out to a friendly dinner.
When a philosopher, storyteller or poet began reciting their epiphanies and tales, he couldn’t help but stand still, attention hung on every word, each human more fascinating than the last in their ideas and morals that no immortal could dream of. No immortal had the imagination for it. They’d never need it.
Immortals had the unfortunate condition of having a boss they couldn’t question no matter which side they were on, not daring to imagine better ideas for fear of punishment. And they never had to care for themselves, the first spark of imagination in any creature, was wondering what they were going to have for their next meal. Which immortals, didn’t need. And when you don’t need anything, you needn’t imagine, to plan and get those things. While humans spouted new knowledge everyday, sometimes recycled, sometimes idiotic but interesting, sometimes metaphorical, sometimes unimportant till one sentence strung it all together and your mind was whiplashed by a hidden meaning, and you pondered how you could’ve ever thought it hadn’t been important.
Aziraphale hoarded humanity’s imagination like it was cocaine, gluttony was encouraged after all, and he’d used that excuse to begin collecting by funding the library of Alexandria. Bringing the intelligentsia of the world straight to him, and letting him read to his hearts content. That had turned into a living nightmare in the last hundred years, after the purging of many intellectuals that resided there which he’d narrowly escaped joining; the accidental burning 50 years ago, and then the general decline of it now as he worked on avoiding it.
Of course he’d gotten a commendation for ingeniously keeping all of humanity’s knowledge in one place so that it could be more easily destroyed. He now made a point of hoarding his books in various secret locations, at least until they reached a more pleasant time period.
Over his time there and his many years before that he’d met and befriended thousands of thinkers from Egypt, to China. Muslim academics and Arabian poets, artists and musicians. He’d laughed at Eratosthenes and had then later regretted it when the man had proven the curvature of the earth with shadows and mathematics , they’d become fast friends, and Aziraphale hadn’t doubted the ability of scientists since. But it was always the theaters in Greece that he enjoyed the most, where he could drink wine and watch emotions that couldn’t just be described in writing unfold on stage.
He didn’t think that his admirance of humanity would cause a problem, but his infatuation with the charisma and speeches of Jesus Christ was… getting out of hand.
It had started out that it was his job to tempt Christ into disbelieving his upbringing, he’d pitched the idea to Beelzebub that if enough bad luck befell Jesus, then he’d start to doubt that God was looking after him or that he wasn't special or blessed at all.
“So, Gods little boy. Here we are.”
“Do you think he’ll be as great as everybody says?”
“He’s 23 and he hasn’t done much yet, God enjoys subtlety but at this rate he’ll be forgotten, a minor footnote in history.”
“Does Hell have any plans?”
“They’re going to leave it up to my limited imagination, as it were.”
“And?”
“I thought I’d start by stealing his lunch.”
Crowley burst out laughing. They were eating their own lunch at an oyster restaurant in Crete before they set off (separately) to where Christ was in Egypt. Crowley had no food in front of him, just the usual white wine, and he looked down at Aziraphale past long red curls. “That’s it? Really? You’re diabolical plan?”
“Are you suggesting that if I rebelled against God I must be bursting with wild ideas?” Aziraphale retorted past a smirk, using an oyster shell to scoop up any remnants of taste from the bottom of his emptied oyster bowl. “Sometimes the simplest ideas are the best. And I’m not stealing his lunch just the once remember? I’ll keep doing it every day till he suffers from going hungry.”
“I think you just want to eat the lunches.” Crowley muttered, seeming amused himself.
“It has to go somewhere, why should the birds get it?”
The angel narrowed his eyes and placed his wine glass on the table. Giving him the “you're up to something,” scrutiny. So Aziraphale raised his hands.
“Crow-ley.” He began in his innocent, two syllabled way, sitting back in his chair and spreading his hands wide. “I don’t really have anything against the boy.”
“You’re a demon, he’s Christ-“
“Yes dear and I don’t hold any power against Christ so I? I can tempt him, irritate him but what did you expect me to do?” He dabbed his napkin against his chin as he finished up and looked away innocently. “String him up on the street? Kill his dog? Anything like that will just get Christs big important parent to strike me off the surface of earth and memory. Hell might want me to do all sorts of things but I’d rather live.”
The Angel Crowley scoffed and a wily smile stretched across his lips. “You know I don’t mind you making my job easier in the end.”
“I’ll always leap at the chance to tempt you into laziness.” Aziraphale chided with a soft grin, standing from the table as he knew Crowley's expression would become less than happy. He could tell the angel was watching him and he interrupted the silence. “I’ll do my tempting as it’s my job, but only enough to keep hell off my back, so no other demons come into the mix. If that does happen, I’ll warn you, you have my word.”
“Why would you warn me about that? Come on Aziraphale, there’s gotta be more than that. I mean you’re a demon, you can’t expect me to just believe your word.”
Aziraphale looked back at Crowley and shrugged. “You asked me what my plans were and I’ve told you. I expect you to respect our agreement and keep any other angelic friends of yours away from me and I’ll keep mine away from you. Then we can get on with ourselves no matter what this son of god decides he’s going to do. It’s not the end of the world. I couldn’t care less what he does.”
He arrived in Egypt a couple of days later by boat. Doing the usual of dressing up royally and tossing a sailor a coin if they asked any questions, a single gold coin would be enough to shut anybody’s curiosity these days, and he could claim bribery and corruption on his daily evil deeds bingo card.
It took a little longer to find Christ himself, he wasn’t very good at Egyptian and lots of towns were merged together along the great river, split up but still sharing the same allegiance to a name or the smallest spots lacking a name altogether. Some spots he remembered having a name, but after changes in management and war they’d been obliterated, and the name had moved to a different, sometimes not even to the new town built by the survivors, just adopted by a village that had already had a previous name Aziraphale had known. It was impossible to keep up. There was also the fact that Joseph and Mary were in Egypt on the run from a mad king, so they were hard to find anyhow. It didn’t help that after a day of walking along the edge of the Nile, he was already fed up of the stink.
He didn’t want to have to admit to Crowley that he couldn’t find the boy, and if Beelzebub hadn’t given him more specific instructions either she didn’t know and would be offended to be insinuated that she didn’t know, or he’d be laughed at for not being able to find him by himself. Aziraphale could sit through laughing, he had thick skin to that sort of thing, but luckily he was spared by a frighteningly close run in with Gabriel.
He’d been carefully avoiding excitable merchants down a busy street crammed with stalls when he’d spotted a rather lost looking and tall man. He’d been lightly amused by just how out of his depth the white man looked before vaguely recognizing him and suddenly feeling a rise of panic. He quickly turned to the closest stand, selling an unfortunate amount of smelling fish but the movement caught Gabriel's eye and he immediately latched on to the only other white man in expensive looking clothing in the city, apart from the palace itself, and the Archangel pushed forward. He slapped Aziraphale’s shoulder and he tried hard not to yelp.
“Excuse me, do you speak latin? I need to find Herakleopolis.” Gabriel announced, he butchered the word Herakleopolis, but Aziraphale clearly didn’t have a choice in this. Luckily the answer was simple.
The demon stared forward at the stall, daring not to let the angel see his demonic eyes. Blue, with horizontal pupils. He’d abstained from hiding them but this time that could’ve been useful. “Uh, you appear to be in it.” He replied uninterested, using his clothes to pretend he was too self important to look round.
Gabriel lightened up. “Ah wonderful! I’m close then. You wouldn’t happen to know a Judean carpenter with two lovely parents? Goes by the name of Jesus, or Christ you might say. Heard they were in the southern district, living in one of these rudimentary configurations- I mean… sweet houses.”
Now the demon had an option. He could gesture to his whiteness and say “Do you think I come from here? Like fuck I know where those plebians live. Also “called christ the saviour,” are you trying to get slaughtered??” But guilty look at the store owners working hard next to him made him change that to. “Heard they moved to Carthage.” And quickly turned away from the conversation as dismissively as possible. Behind him he heard Gabriel curse and burst upwards in a flurry of cloaked feathers, the people around wondering where that gust of wind had come from, while Aziraphale made to look busy and rush southwards. Adding “made an archangel curse,” to their bingo card.
———————-
At long last they found the son of God, In this period of his life he was in his early twenties. All Aziraphale knew was that Satan would want his son to mature at 11, God seemed to be much more patient with their son, unless he’d already come into… whatever power he was supposed to have.
The man was a carpenter, and was helping a couple of men load his orders of wood off a boat tethered to the bank of the Nile. He seemed pleasant enough, smiling, thanking the lads that had brought the wood, even though they regarded him with some kind of stigma.
The demon watching them shrugged his shoulders and sighed. It was probably time to get to work. His blue slitted eyes set themselves into the body of a black and white shaggy ram, with four horns, and he trotted forward purposefully.
Other demons had been quick to make fun of him for being a creature with such a non threatening visage as a sheep. So he rarely took on the form, though Aziraphale thought of himself as one to not care about others opinions, it did slow down his work. But on earth, goats and sheep were welcome most anywhere, he could chew clothes and still get thrown snacks every now and then, and then steal some more, though he preferred to be given them. A goat or a ram could wander about any which way they chose without getting much resistance, because it was assumed you belonged to somebody, a few unsavory types might try to claim you as their own but he could turn them away with a miracle or two of his own. The only downside of course was sleeping in the mud. By which time he’ll return to his human form and sleep indoors.
Nevertheless, a ram had taken up residence around Jesus’ carpentry shack. When Christ sat down to begin his lunch, he found that there was a loaf of bread missing. Then the next day, a bunch of grapes had been whisked away. Then tools in his shack went missing, along with a lump of cheese. After seven days of this, Jesus finally caught him in the act, peering around a corner just in time to see the rams mouth hanging open over a particularly scrumptious looking apple. Aziraphale waited for the man to protest, but instead he just watched, then he smiled and gestured to go ahead.
Confused, and worried that his irritation wasn’t working on the patient man, Aziraphale chomped on the rag the food was bundled in. He shook it out from underneath the meal, scattering the contents and then trotting away as he gave the rag a provocative chew. Every time he stole something he felt that guilty burn in the pit of his stomach which he wasn’t supposed to have, and this time it burnt the most that whole week. He stopped a few meters away and then gave a tentative look back, seeing the Jew kneel down to dust off the apple as best he could. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the mans eyes, and scampered off as soon as Christ began to look up at him, leaving the rag on the floor. Aziraphale would never admit how happy he was to see Crowley arrive shortly afterwards and share his own miracled lunch with the man. Suddenly he felt like he couldn’t bare to see Crowley again after that, so he wandered around the district idly for 3 days.
It really shouldn’t be so hard, he was a demon after all. But it was hard to get motivated when the sin was so petty. It hardly felt like it could be qualified as a sin, but that made even less sense as to why it made him feel so horrible. He shook himself out of it and stole an elaborate chair leg Jesus had been carving all morning so that he was forced to carve another one.
Crowley seemed to disappear for a bit, so Aziraphale returned to his daily routine. At this point he stole while Jesus was watching, waiting for a reaction from the man. One time he stole a carrot, sat himself down on the road outside and ate the carrot in plain sight still without gaining a reaction. The next day he sat closer, and then he sat inside the workshop. Then the heat of Egypt became unbearable, and he stayed inside the workshop all day.
“Where did you come from?” he was finally asked. They were sat by the edge of the shack, looking out at the wavering air of the roasting dusty grounds outside. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the summer, and any animal or person was a fool to spend long out there. Aziraphale had tried, but it was far too much effort expended when a generous man was nearby with an offer of shade, water, and stolen lunches.
Aziraphale had avoided any interaction beyond taking food so far, because he was here to torture him and not get attached, but finally here, by a heat he didn’t want to go out in unless he went through the indignity of being shorn, he couldn’t really escape.
“Do you live somewhere nearby?” Jesus reached out a hand to Aziraphale’s short furred forehead. Aziraphale flinched backwards initially, but didn’t want to stand up out of the comfortable position he’d found on the floor, so eventually he let himself be fussed over. The son of Gods hands were gentler than he’d expected, perhaps he thought they’d burn him, but in fact they were completely human. The hands ran over his long ears, pulled his chin up gently to see his neck, and then carefully down each of his horns, two pointing backwards and up from his ears, the second pair curling under and forwards towards his chin. “No marks, tags or brands… not even a bell.” Jesus stroked a floppy ear and Aziraphale relaxed into it. Jesus smiled. “You have beautiful blue eyes, you’d be quite a prize to a shepard, a strong and handsome ram like you.”
The demon hadn’t really had his eyes be called beautiful before, even if an angel had looked into them a few times longer than necessary. He liked to say that he knew his eyes were beautiful, he was very proud of them, but it was another thing to hear it from somebody else, especially the son of god himself. His already bursting over confidence swelled to greater size and he happily rest his cheek in Jesus’ palm.
“What’s up Jesus?” That could only be one person, and Aziraphale froze as he looked up to see Crowley wandering over. The angel looked surprised, but reasonably amused as he cocked his head to look down at Aziraphale under Jesus’ petting hands. “Found a friend have we?”
The ram snorted, leapt to his feet and trotted round to the back of the shed and settled into the corner, blue eyes peering through the darkness like a disgruntled cat. Jesus was left looking bemused, but he dusted his hands off and stood up again, stepping out into the sunlight to greet the red haired man. “It seems so, I thought I’d start asking around soon to figure out who he belongs too. It’s good to see you my friend!” He drew the angel into an embrace, Aziraphale felt shocked somehow when he saw the angel genuinely smile as he reciprocated the hug. But he supposed Crowley must smile more often when he wasn’t in the demon's company, which was… a shame.
“Doing well mate.” Crowley replied warmly. Aziraphale supposed Crowley could get away with any form of speech when he was so foreign as to have red hair. “How’s my uh… table going?”
Jesus hesitated and looked up at Crowley carefully. “You ordered a chair?”
“Oh yes my mistake. Chair.” Crowley made an excuse about it being a confusion in language and Aziraphale snorted at him.
He should at least remember what excuse he’d made to keep visiting the man.
“Of course,” Jesus chuckled, giving Crowley a good natured pat on the back. “It’s here ready to be assembled.” He guided Crowley through the various bits and pieces, and decorations Crowley had specified to make the job last longer and inspire more visits, but Crowley was only half paying attention as he kept up a curious staring contest with the unblinking ram in the back.
“That Ram…” Crowley eventually murmured to the Jew. “That’s a Jacobs sheep no?”
“Is that so?” Jesus questioned, standing so that they could both see the demon. “You know them?”
“Uh… yeah. Yep, they come from my country.” Crowley put a plausible story together and gained confidence in his words. “Not many other sheep with 4 horns. They’ve been sent around everywhere for their wool. Doesn’t do well in the heat, better keep it inside.”
Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he was being insulted or if the angel was giving him an extra reason to be pampered.
“Quite rare down here though, I’d suppose…” Crowley added.
“Do they all have beautiful blue eyes like that one?”
“No! Uh, this one’s… particularly pretty. I think I know him, actually.”
“Really? Do you know where he came from? If he belongs to anybody?”
“They left.” Crowley responded a little too quickly.
“Really?”
“Yep, moved somewhere far away. You can keep him.”
“Well I’ve really been blessed to get such a handsome ram as this.”
Aziraphale bleated and leapt from his place. He wanted to yell “You made me look like a blessing?? I’m his torment! I’m supposed to be his nightmare!! Angel you’re cunning you are!” Crowley giggled as the ram snorted and paced and Aziraphale angrily grabbed a set of pliers and tossed it across the room for good measure, trying to assert his pest like status. Instead it just made Jesus laugh as well.
“And what a lively blessing he is! God has really been kind to me on this day!”
Aziraphale grabbed one of Crowley's chair legs and galloped out of the stable, tossing it into the river.
Before Jesus could despair over it Crowley passed him a gold piece. “Oh dear I’ll pay for that, I think I’ve pissed that Ram off somehow,”
“Oh no I couldn’t-“
“Please, it made me laugh.” He gently closed Jesus’ fingers over the piece. “Take it,”
“If only all my customers could be as generous as you Crowley.” He accepted with a smile. Aziraphale was trotting back now, staring Crowley down and sitting roughly back down at the back of the shack. “Do you remember if those previous owners gave this ram a name?”
“Oh uh…” Crowley paused thoughtfully before he passed another sly grin. “Angel,” he decided. “Though it was more of an ironic nickname than anything.”
“I can see that! I love it, let’s keep it.” They looked back over at the newly christened ram, but Aziraphale looked more shell-shocked than anything. Being named Angel made him feel warm somehow.
“My chair.” Crowley mused. “Do you think we could put our new friend on it somewhere?”
“You want me to carve Angel onto your chair somewhere?” Jesus looked thoughtful but smiled at the idea. “I could do that.”
“He reminds me of home after all.” Crowley agreed. He made to pass Jesus another gold coin for the work, but Jesus politely refused, so Crowley hid it under a shawl on one of the carpentry tables.
As Crowley left the ram got up and quickly followed him out. Nobody stopped him because the ram had always come and gone as he pleased. Crowley got the idea and lead him to an alleyway, where Aziraphale could freely take on his human form again.
“So?” Crowley began first as the demon shook back his ears last.
“So? What? What was that?” Aziraphale huffed, confused more than seeming to be angry.
“That was some good old fashioned thwarting Aziraphale. I didn’t even have to use a miracle.”
Irritation rumbled up inside the demon. “What about the agreement Crowley? First I ran into Gabriel a week ago, no warning from you by the way but I was OK so I was going to let that slip. But then we agreed to- to not-“
Crowley was watching Aziraphale closely, the demon was a very self assured guy. He didn't seem to put on his confidence like Crowley did, Aziraphale had always genuinely believed in what he was doing at any given time. He decided to clear the Gabriel matter first. “I’m sorry about the archangel, he doesn’t always tell us where he’s going, he should be in Rome right now. I heard about what you told him, and right now he’s still searching around Carthage. I didn’t tell him I’d found Christ so you could have some more time here. For…” he hesitated and got to the point, features softening. “You haven’t wanted to torture Jesus from the start, Aziraphale.” Crowley murmured calmly.
Aziraphale hesitated again, which meant he was lying. For a demon he was still very bad at lying. Perhaps that's because he rarely said anything he didn’t genuinely believe in. “O-of course I do…” it seemed weak and Aziraphale knew it. He sighed and wrung his hands together. “No, no I don’t.”
“Not just because you don’t want God to smite you?”
“No.” Aziraphale replied curtly. He thought back to all the kind and patient things he’d seen Jesus do over those past two weeks. “He doesn’t deserve to be punished for anything. There should be more people in the world like him and… I don't want to stop that. If he could make everybody in the world a bit kinder then-“
“Then you could have your library back.”
“Yes!” Aziraphale pointed at Crowley assertively, that was his confidence back again. “Which is a selfish thing, that’s the reason.”
“Because you’re the big bad demon.”
“Yes. Exactly. ” Aziraphale saw Crowley giggling again and narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing just-“ he held a hand in front of his mouth to hide his grin. He sighed and pushed it away. “You admire Jesus don’t you? You don't have to say it, I know you don’t like admitting things.”
Aziraphale didn’t respond, he was holding his hands together in front of himself again, looking nervous.
“Well now, either, you can say I thwarted you and you can stop keeping up this torturing pretense, or, now I’ve given Jesus a reason to keep you, you have the chance to hang around as much as you like.”
Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. Sure, as a goat he couldn’t invite Jesus out to conversational dinners or talk about philosophy with him, but he at least had the chance to take in everything he said. Perhaps he could write it all down somewhere and keep it as his own record so nothing was missed. He snapped out of it and grumbled. “You’re very manipulative, for an angel.”
Crowley stepped forward and looked like he wanted to brush a stray hair from the demons forehead, Crowley was searching for the words to say as his eyes flitted curiously over Aziraphale’s features, but he turned it into a pat on the shoulder. “Watch over Jesus for me would you Angel?” And then he was gone.
—————————
When he got back, he stayed inside Christs carpentry shed almost all the time. He even grew comfortable sleeping on the blanket Jesus had left for him, though only after insisting on pillows.
He became a patient model for the carpenter. He wasn’t really one to enjoy being the centre of attention of course. That was Crowley's thing, as he dressed up to keep with the times, and sometimes indulged in some singing. Aziraphale was comfortable making sure he looked prim and proper, no point in wearing itchy clothes if he could miracle some luxurious ones, but that was the extent of it. But after his 4 horned image was carved into a chair and customers saw him about every day, people began requesting him in more things. Ram themed emblems on tools, stools, once even on the side of a racing chariot. Jesus’ carpentry business was going well, though luckily the places remote location on the Nile meant that he didn't draw so much attention so as to be found by anybody that might want to kill him.
They made some little ram statues for fun, which became rather popular children's toys, Crowley got one and seemed to take great joy in it, and Aziraphale was to find many of them come and go over the next couple of centuries of his future.
He continued to share in Jesus’ meals, which was enough to convince Beelzebub that he was doing his job after all. He made sure to terrorize the rest of the neighborhood every now and then for good measure, often getting into trouble and once coming into a close run in with some powerful dogs, but in the end they were no match for his horns. He was an odd symbol of fear and joy, a mischievous figure, people began to say that he was a guardian spirit of the area, and if they fed him he wouldn't only not steal something from your home, he would also defend it from other thieves. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. Crowley was about sharing miracles of his own, and Aziraphale had no problems with causing misfortune for the burglars that hung around.
The demon took in everything the son of god said, seeing how he responded to people, how he cared for them and how he thought. It was hard to know exactly what the man was thinking most of the time, he was so used to people kindness being a pretense over a different set of thoughts going on, but everything he did seemed to be genuine, he only had silent, sad moments later at night, when Aziraphale wished he could speak.
“I had a vision last night.” Jesus murmured once as they sat together and watched the stars. Aziraphale stopped chewing on a stick he’d stolen from the workshop and looked up curiously as the man stroked his head. “I dreamt that you traveled to Judea, and everybody there was well and merry. But when you returned to Egypt with a gift of olives, I was already gone from this world.”
The next day Aziraphale searched the stalls for an olive with the pit still inside and planted it by the workshop. But even with his miracles he couldn’t get it to take to the arid soil.
They’d decided to put at least a bell on him, since he enjoyed wandering off they could know where he was with a bell. He’d put up a fight against having one tied on with rope, and had chewed the first 5 off. Until a Chinese merchant had left a cream coloured silk sash as half of a payment for a chair, and though Aziraphale had kept up his work by chewing most stray cloth around, he daren’t touch the beautiful sash. So Jesus and Crowley both decided that that was what was going to be tied around his neck, Crowley tied a bow as a joke, but it stuck, and if it was ever taken off and put on again without a bow, they’d find the bow tied again the next morning, resting primly on his chest. Though he’d removed the bell.
Eventually Crowley had to let Gabriel out of his misery, so after about 3 months of Aziraphale being the streets pet, Crowley warned him that he might have to vacate for a while, because Gabriel was coming back their way and he was less than happy. An Archangel could fly incredibly fast if they wanted to, he was lucky that Crowley had been able to warn him at all. So Aziraphale had to leave as quickly as possible, without so much as saying goodbye, as best a goat could anyway.
He came and went according to Gabriel’s activities for the rest of the year, and then the visits stopped.
————-
“Aziraphale.” A voice drawled.
“Snake.”
“A pleasure.” A curtain drew back and Crowley draped his skinny figure on the cushioned lounger Aziraphale was sat on. Inexplicably the demon was sitting on the lounger, eating grapes and drinking whatever new tea he’d found today. But if the demon was going to sit on a perfectly comfortable lounger, then the angel was going to lounge on the rest. He kicked his feet over the end and rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “What are you doing in Sardis?” [1]
“Minding my own business. Where’s your hair?”
“Cut it off.”
“Why?”
“What are you wearing on your face?”
“Sunglasses they're called. I don’t like them, but Gabriel’s still looking for me.”
“It’s been almost a decade.”
“He’s still looking. But I don't like these glasses they're too dark. It’s the first thing anybody notices about me.”
“Maybe you should stop dressing in white.”
“Maybe you should stop dressing in black, people would think our sides were swapped.”
“White bleaches out my red hair. And with your blonde hair it makes you look look like an albino.”
“It stops anyone from suspecting my devilish background.”
Crowley sat up sharply and lent his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, scrutinizing the man in white silk curiously. “Why haven’t you gone back to see Jesus again?”
“Is there a particular reason why I should go see goody two shoes again?” Aziraphale retorted, finally taking his glasses off and looking around at his odd acquaintance. “I did mention that I’m on Gabriel's psychotic hit list right? Do you know what that’s like?”
Crowley scratched the back of his head with an expression that didn’t comfort Aziraphale before continuing. “I’ve given you plenty of notice when Gabriel’s been out of town.”
“Why do you think I’m so keen to bleat at people and drink Nile water?” He raised his tea. “I have much finer things here in Asia.”
Crowley sniffed and looked around the velvet swathed tea room dim with smoke. “And overdoses of incense.”
“You know, incense is supposed to be used to ward off demons.” Aziraphale chided with a cheeky grin. “If I enjoy it and you despise it what does that teach us?”
Crowley narrowed his eyes and huffed irritably. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
“Well that would be a natural reaction when an Angel sees a Demon.” Aziraphale put his cup down and made to pour himself another serving. “It would seem you’ve never had that reaction. I’ve yet to figure out why.” Crowley scowled. Aziraphale interrupted again. “That’s a very un-angelic expression.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Well I didn’t ask for it!” Aziraphale finally raised his voice. “I have no interest in going to see Jesus in Judea.”
The Angels eyes widened. “I didn’t mention that he was going to Judea.” He shifted even closer to the demon and Aziraphale lent away awkwardly. “You’ve been ordered to go back to torturing Jesus.”
Aziraphale growled and put his cup down on the table, making a point of putting it down with force.
“You don’t want to?”
Aziraphale fixed Crowley a hard stare, tapping his fingers together between his knees. “... I was only ordered about a week ago, I left a decade ago for other reasons.”
Crowley sat back and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The stare continued and Aziraphale slowly raised a hand to gesture at Crowley. “Let me ask you a question.”
“You’ve asked tonnes of questions today Az.”
“Why do you… Let me reiterate…” he sighed and took a long time thinking about what to say. “You named me Angel, I spent more time with Jesus then you did.” He scowled and muttered quietly. “I admit, I enjoyed it, fine.” Crowley grinned and Aziraphale quickly cut him off. “Are you making me do your job?” Crowley winced, making Aziraphale throw in as many suggestions as he could. “You CAN’T do your job. You dislike something about him, you think he dislikes you, you think you’re not g-“
“Aziraphale, can’t I just want to give you something?” Crowley blurted out.
“What for? I’m a demon, you’ve already paid me back tenfold for our initial agreement.”
“Have I though? Everyone on Earth says “The snake that made Eve eat the apple,” Everyone in Heaven and Hell, who matter to us, say “The ram that made Eve eat the apple, the humans twisted the story,” Ram or fawn, whichever. I could’ve fallen Aziraphale, right there and then-”
Suddenly, Crowley had tea splashed all over him, dripping down his face and through his hair. “If you’re so keen on making me “the angel” and do your job for you, then maybe I should’ve let you fall.” Aziraphale shoved the teacup into Crowley's hands and made to storm out of the room. “If you’re suggesting that we could swap places now then anything you think you know about me is wrong. You have a twisted sense of being grateful.”
After Aziraphale had left, Crowley realised that the cup he was holding remained piping hot, but the tea he was soaked in was miraculously cool.
-----------------------
Somehow, against all odds, Aziraphale had turned up at Jesus’ baptism anyway. He cursed himself for giving in and coming to do his job, but also cursed himself for the very fact he didn’t want to do this job. He wondered how much of it was genuinely caring for Jesus as a friend, and how much was in that he didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to tempt this conundrum of a man.
Jesus looked older, not old but mature. He was only 30 after all. He could sense Gabriel nearby and could feel his spine creep with fear, but he’d been informed that Gabriel wouldn’t be following Jesus’ on his fast in the desert. Perhaps because it was a ritual where Jesus really had to be alone? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the most comforting thing to not be sure, but that was all he had. It was a stupid move by heaven to leave Jesus alone when he was at his most vulnerable, but perhaps they just trusted him. And they had reason to trust him when Aziraphale knew just how IMPOSSIBLY good the man was.
During his year with Jesus, he had written that book he’d been hoping to write. One that had collected all the phrases he could remember the man saying. He’d read it and reread it from top to bottom over the last few days but still had no further clue as to how to go about this. He was clutching the book now, standing behind a tree watching the baptism in the river take place. As he watched a mans head burst forth from the water again he felt cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. He’d never been so unsure of anything in his life. Oh boy he did not feel like he could do this.
“So you turned up.”
Aziraphale nearly leapt out of his skin in shock, twisting to see Crowley way too close to him to have not been noticed. “What the- blazes are you doing here??” He spat at a whisper.
“It’s OK to say fuck Az.” Crowley murmured, much less worried about being caught. “You won’t get in trouble for it.”
Aziraphale knelt down, though the reeds were so tall that there was nothing much more they could do for him knelt rather then standing up. “Brought Gabriel have you?”
Crowley bristled, looking rather offended. “You what?”
“Because I’m going to get Jesus this time,” He growled, almost brandishing his book like a weapon.
Crowley’s eyelids lowered incredulously. “You’re going to nerd him out with demon facts.”
“I’m going to successfully recruit Jesus to the dark side and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“The dark side. Is that what it’s called now?”
“Laugh all you want Angel, pretty soon I’ll be the one laughing. Then perhaps you’ll finally start to take me seriously. As an actual demon you should fear every now and then.”
Aziraphale hunched back up against the tree and peered at Jesus stepping out of the River Jordan while Crowley stayed quiet for a moment. “Perhaps when you swear I’ll take you seriously as a demon.” He murmured.
“Fine,” Aziraphale replied curtly, his eyes wide, he waggled his fingers, waving his palms in a rainbow gesture. The hesitation was slight. “Fff… uck ooofffff!”
They stared at each other, Crowley strangely silent. Then the angel turned away without a word and disappeared into the reeds. Somehow that wasn’t what the demon had expected, and something stung. A call to get Crowley to come back was caught in his throat.
------------------------
He let Jesus wander for a while, after two weeks with little food under the dangerous sun, Aziraphale decided Jesus was weak enough for him to start working him.
On a particularly cloudless night, when the heat of the desert evaporated into space the fastest and the moon shone a cold white, Aziraphale made his move.
He’d miracled an escaped camel, loaded with goods and temptations, plenty of water and wine. The beasts were nasty in any condition, but the only reason Jesus would run into anybody between the River Jordan and the wilds of Arabia would be if there was a traveler who had strayed from the silk road. He donned a white turban and his glasses again, his sheep eyes would give him away far too quickly, he considered if he should darken his skin or not, if he was going to tempt the man with the idea of living in shaded luxurious palaces he’d have to look as if he’d lived in shaded, luxurious palaces. But in the end he couldn’t think of a reason for an Arabian prince to be travelling alone with a camel, so he darkened his skin to the correct tan and the turban meant he needn’t expend the effort on his hair. It had been impossible to change the colour of anyway, perhaps because he was old so it was white, or perhaps because he had never truly cared when he tried, and he was out of practice.
He’d known many a kind teacher from the Arabian and eastern lands, so he hoped he wouldn’t give them a bad name by appearing as one. He lead the camel up to Jesus’ fire and greeted him in an Arabians native tongue.
“Shalom.” Jesus replied with a warm smile, though he clearly didn’t know the language Aziraphale had used.
Aziraphale smiled and nodded. “Hebrew, don’t worry, I know it. Shalom indeed. Could you spare a place at the fire? I have wood to ration for the journey ahead, and I can spare some to keep yours alive through the night.”
“I’d be glad to.”
The demon had already known what the answer would be and was already sitting down. “Thank you! Thank you. Very wise.” He sat the camel down behind them, so that his wares were in reaching distance, and made sure to sit the camel with the head on Jesus’ side. “Mind the camel, he’s as prone to bite as any of them.”
As if to prove a point the camel twisted its long neck around to look at Jesus, with the curious manner camels had of seeming to chew on nothing, as if preparing spit. The Jew however held out a hand and stroked the animals head. “Don’t worry, I have experience with biting animals.”
Aziraphale thought back to ten years ago. Had he played himself?
“Where would you be travelling to?” Jesus questioned.
Aziraphale put on a smile and raised his hands. “Back to my home, to the sea.”
“The Red Sea?”
He laughed heartily, hoping to make Jesus feel like a fool. “A short walk! The Red Sea is south of us yes, a few days walk, a short trip. No, further east my friend, to the Persian Sea.” Jesus probably knew little about the Persians, though they had ruled over both Egypt and Judea before the Romans had kicked them out 300 years ago. A short time for Aziraphale but perhaps distant history to Jesus. “Back to see my beautiful wives, my sons, and then perhaps up to Nineveh for some light reading.”
“Wives?” Jesus showed the first sign of discomfort.
“No not really, I wish I had many wives, but they’re really too much trouble. It’s much easier to visit the whore houses without them. Though I enjoy pretending.” He gave Jesus a toothy grin and flashed him a left hand covered in jeweled rings, then burst into another laugh.
“I…”
“Ever been to Nineveh Hebrew boy?” Aziraphale continued, reaching back to his camel and pulling out a wine bottle. “Do you drink?”
“Uh, no and… no.”
“Suit yourself.” He popped the cork and took a hefty drink. The wine, the camel, the shine of his rings flickering in the fire and bouncing lights off the sand. Aziraphale felt quite pleased with himself at the absurd scene he was creating. “So never been to Nineveh eh? What a shame. Do you read?”
“I’ve read the Torah of course.”
“Have you read it? Or had it read to you and you just remember the gist of it?”
Jesus narrowed his eyes and he looked around as if he hadn’t expected the interrogation. “Uh… I can read both Hebrew and Latin. Everybody has to read Latin to work.”
“Every man has to read Latin. No need to teach women about all of that stuff, who knows what they’d do with it.” He felt the first pang in his chest, but ignored it.
“My mother could read. She taught herself so that she could teach me.” Jesus responded, but he was still smiling, which peeved Aziraphale a little.
“Could she now.” Aziraphale peered down at him and made to roll his eyes just slightly. “What brings you out to the desert anyway boy?”
“I’ve come to-”
“Mind if I eat?”
“Uh sure,”
Aziraphale turned to rummage around in the camels bags.
Jesus continued. “It’s a fast, after my baptism-”
“Uhuh,” Aziraphale responded, head almost inside the bag, would you like a ham sandwich?”
“Um- I don’t eat pork.”
“Would you like a stick of salami?”
“I don’t eat pork.”
“Would you like a portion of these?” Aziraphale held out a small pouch.
“What are they?”
“Pork scratchings.”
“I don’t eat pork.”
Aziraphale peered closely at him, but there wasn’t an ounce of irritation or impatience on his face. “Hm, peculiar.” Still no reaction. He stuffed the pork back inside his bag. “Would you like some bread perhaps?”
“I’m afraid I’m fasting.”
Aziraphale noticed that the jew had given up on telling his story, perhaps because he’d realised because he wasn’t being listened to, and rather than get irritated and plough on, he’d allowed Aziraphale to be as uninterested as he wanted to be. How bleeding selfless.
The demon pulled out the ham sandwich and began eating it.
“Forgive me I’ve never seen a meal like that before.” Jesus questioned curiously. “With the bread on either side like that. What did you say it was called?”
“A sandwich, my invention. Keeps your hands off the sticky meat inside. Would you like some?”
“I don’t eat pork.”
Still no irritation. Aziraphale was already brimming with irritation, and awe.
“So after this you’re going to return to… wherever you’re from.”
“Back to meet my friends at the River Jordan-”
“Yeah yeah. Is that the only place you’ve lived in?”
“I grew up in Egypt, this was the first time I could return to Judea where I was born-”
“Egypt eh? Ever visited the library of Alexandria?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Lovely guy runs it, or used to run it, you should go.” He took a healthy bite out of his sandwich.
“You enjoy visiting libraries?”
“Libraries are the next place any man should visit after your place of worship.” He responded. “Science, maths, philosophy, history, the study of the stars. Learning what men have learnt before us, is the closest one can get to being immortal.” He raised a finger to the sky. “What’s the point in one mans study, if the world is to just forget it after he dies? A library is the collection of humanity's achievements, never let it go to waste.”
“Have you written a book?”
Aziraphale hesitated. He’d run his mouth and gone off topic, and the question hit something too important. “I’ve written one, but it’s still in progress…”
Jesus smiled and regarded him for a moment. “It seems to do you well to visit libraries… I’d rather be working in my carpentry shop.”
“A carpenter! An admirable trade. Boats, thrones… get to sit on any with that?”
“I wouldn’t want to.”
Aziraphale paused again. Wondering what to try next. He pulled a stick of incense from his bags and lit it with the fire. “For the insects.” He said, though it was really for his nerves. “Got these from China, lovely people. These things are everywhere there. It’s not like the incense used in Babylon or Egypt, Chinese incenses are much sweeter. They use them to worship their Gods over there. There are hundreds of them! In every tree they say there’s a tiny god! It’s that odd of them?” He felt another pang in his chest.
“They could have their reasons, after all God has sown his life into every tree that grows. Maybe we should praise God for every tree he’s given us that bares fruit.”
“Every stone?”
“Would we have tools without stones?”
“Would you like to see China?”
“... See it?”
He reached into his bag of many delights again and miracled out a jade necklace, the green stone shining in the fire light. “This is a stone called Jade, China is full of it. They paint their temples in red and fashion it with jade statues of dogs, foxes, dragons . Great big ones, statues taller than you or I in this green stone. Smaller than the towering Pharaohs of Egypt I grant you but in this great stone? Just as spectacular.”
“I can happily imagine it.” Jesus agreed, marveling at the stone. Aziraphale gestured for him to take it, hoping that the allure of the colour would draw Jesus in deeper, but it was soon returned to him. “A lovely trinket that.”
“I could take you to China,” He gestured to the camel. “Plenty for the journey here. We could leave this desert behind us.”
“I need to return to my family and friends here.” Jesus replied. “I’ve no interest in seeing China beyond the joy of hearing you describe it.”
“India.” He blurted out. He put the jade away and tugged out a flowery wreath, casting a flurry of red pigment into the air and the fire. “Hindu’s live there. They worship many gods with the heads of animals.”
“Egyptians do that too, they’re really lovely ideas.”
“They celebrate by covering their city in colours and lights, they light candles on boats and float them down a holy river, just like the Nile you knew. You should really see it, it’s so joyous, and the food! It’s to die for. They use these lovely spices.”
“Do you have some?”
“Sure!” He reached into the bag again and pulled out an already steaming and cooked portion of rice, coloured with the spices and in a bowl covered in exotic patterns. “Have a taste.”
Jesus leant forward, closed his eyes… and smelt it. “I’m sure that would taste amazing.”
“... Won’t you try some?”
“Not while I’m fasting.”
Aziraphale nearly threw the bowl into the fire, but decided to eat the rice himself. His mind was buzzing with ideas and panic and ideas and more panic. For a moment he wondered how he’d gotten himself into this situation, then he remembered his anger at Crowley and ploughed on. “You know north of here, above the Polis of Greece and Rome, lie Gaul and the Germanic countries. West of those, across a small sea, there’s an island as well, with people that know nothing of our world, or China, or India with it’s festivals. I wonder if they even have Gods.”
“Whether they know of God or not, God is looking after-”
“Yeah- yeah. Well those northern lands and that island, it’s much colder than here, and it rains far more often. The land is always green with grass and flowers, sometimes the rain falls in cold light flakes and they call it snow. It blankets the world in white! And it dulls the noise till things are all silent and magical. But they never run out of food where it’s green like that. It’s fertile and they never suffer from drought. Why do you think they’re up there without any gods and we’re down here?”
Finally Jesus seemed to be thrown for a loop, and paused for a second. Aziraphale reveled in the silence. Perhaps the man could hardly believe the lands existence, when all he’d known was sand and plant life only ever hugging the edges of rivers and man-made farmland. “Why should they not be able to live there? If they were born there, they’ll use what they’re given.”
“But why do we live here in the desert? What did they do to deserve where they live?”
“Do we deserve to take it from them?”
“Why don’t you take you and your starving family out of this desert and go up north? There’s all sorts to be found there! Wood for carpentry and food and water and there are less Romans too!”
“My family wouldn’t want to leave, we’ve always lived here and we’re happy.”
“But you could be happier!”
“Or we could struggle to get there and then when we’ve arrived we don’t have the experience to tame those lands.”
“You could claim the unclaimed lands and become a ruler of a new world. West of here over a long sea there’s a new land nobody’s even discovered. With new people and new ways and plenty of space for your family.”
“How do you know it’s there if it’s not been discovered? I’m not going to sail out into the ocean, I’ve never really wanted to sail, in fact.”
“But don’t you want anything better?” Aziraphale questioned. “Don’t you want to ditch all these horrible people and start anew somewhere where there isn’t any evil?”
Jesus fixed him with a heavy stare. “That wouldn’t eliminate the evil here. I would be dooming everyone in the land I call home.”
Aziraphale hesitated. Perhaps he was in fact helping to assert Jesus’ own beliefs. Perhaps he was helping push Jesus further into the light. Jesus was too good, he loved Judea, and he loved and wanted to help the people, he always had and Aziraphale admired him for it. It felt disgusting to try and tempt him otherwise. Escapism wasn't an option, no matter what Beelzebub had ordered the temptation to be. He sighed and took the flower wreath off his neck. “Impossible,” He muttered to himself.
Jesus blinked as he watched a man seem to deflate in front of him. “I’m sorry… I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Aziraphale packed the wreath back into the bag and patted the camels side, partially for his own support. He looked up at Jesus again through his dark glasses and realised that these were the conversations he had never had the chance to have before. Being able to sit with Jesus here, truly alone. No Gabriel, supposedly no god, he knew no other demons were here, and Crowley wasn’t here either. He wasn’t succeeding in convincing Jesus, the only reason he wanted to thwart Jesus was to prove that he could still “demon” correctly, but was that more powerful than his love of this brilliant human? He really had come to love him after all. That year had been one of the happiest of his life, when he’d convinced himself that perhaps he could do good as a demon by protecting Jesus from any other demons that might come around. Of course that belief had been broken when he’d finally been found by Gabriel, he’d been reminded Aziraphale of how unwelcome he was, and how fantastical that dream was. Whether Gabriel was around or not, he couldn’t bare to be friends with Jesus again, he didn’t think he actually could taint the man, but could he really do good either? He was certain he was doomed to never return to angel hood, but he was also sure now that he’d never be a perfect demon. As Crowley had always said, he was a lousy liar. The best he could hope for was to enjoy his time on earth living in the grey moral area he was good at, and not get too close to either the light or the dark, because both could burn him.
Unsure of what to do next, but still finding himself in the middle of a conversation he couldn’t just excuse himself out of. He gave up the persona, and for the moment, spoke as his true self. “I’m sorry… I don’t believe I ever asked your name. That’s rude of me. But I should explain, I can’t really tell you my name, it wouldn’t be wise. So perhaps you could respect that we both remain… nameless wanderers? Tonight?”
The fire crackled and Jesus looked curious before nodding. The chaotic energy of the conversation died down, till it felt like only them and the fire.
“Have you ever heard the theory that the earth is round? And that if you walk for too long in one direction you’ll return back to where you started?”
Jesus eyes widened.
“Does that theory… make you angry?” Aziraphale hesitated.
Jesus shook his head and smiled. “It’s hard to believe but… intriguing. Did you read that in one of your books?”
Aziraphale smiled. “Not everything can be read in books. First it has to be discovered, as it was by a dear friend of mine. I can’t show you the world, but I can prove it to you.” He began, finding two sticks to carefully place in the sand where the fire cast a light on them.
The demon taught Jesus everything he wanted to know, and Jesus provided all the wisdom that came to him. The night seemed to stretch on forever, and perhaps it did with a slight bend in space from the demon occupying it. But Jesus was only human, and Aziraphale could tell when exhaustion began to overcome him, and he knew that their precious short time together was inevitably going to come to an end.
“You’ve been baptized, correct?” Aziraphale eventually asked.
“That’s right.”
“At your age… that must mean you’re stepping into ministry?”
“... That’s correct.”
“May I be your shall we say… first subject, seeking advice then?”
“Of course,” The man smiled. “If there’s any help you need, I’ll be glad to.”
Aziraphale nearly asked if he could drink his wine again, as if the conversation had only just started again. But he remembered not to, and took a careful drink from the bottle. “There was a friend… Who I wasn’t supposed to help, but I did. And he’s ever grateful of it.”
Jesus smiled even more. “That’s very admirable of you.”
“Hm, but it’s not.” He replied carefully. “I only did it for my own gain. I took something that would’ve given a man of his standing a bad name, but would’ve looked admirable for me. So I took the credit for it, received praise for it, and also his thanks. Which… I did save him from a horrible fate, so that’s good and all. But whenever he thanks me for it, it feels misplaced.”
Jesus had fallen silent and was listening intently, waiting for Aziraphale to organise his thoughts.
“If he’s seen thanking me, that would be bad, we’d both get in trouble. If I accept his thanks I feel like I could get in trouble. I’ve told him that he’s thanked me enough but he insists. I do like the gifts he gives me, but I also shouldn’t, he gives me things that others wouldn’t like me having and I can’t admit that I like… Are you following me so far?”
Jesus narrowed his eyes. “Somewhat… Is it a family thing?”
“Eehhheh…” Aziraphale made a funny noise with his mouth. “Yyyyyees let’s say that. Let’s go with that. His family hates mine, but I like him.”
“I see. You’ve told him that you appreciate what he’s given you but can’t accept?”
“Yeah, it was harder to admit I appreciated it, but I did and it didn’t matter.”
“What’s your friend like?”
“He’s charismatic, handsome, enjoys music… Better at lying than I am. He seems to act as though I shouldn’t have saved him.”
“Perhaps he still feels as though he deserves the punishment for it. He feels guilty.”
“Yes!” Aziraphale suddenly stood up over the fire, light flashing in his glasses. “And it’s infuriating that he feels guilty about it! Like nobody punished him so he’s tormenting himself over it! And I don’t want him tormenting himself! I saved him SO that he wouldn’t be tormented at all!” Aziraphale caught himself and stepped back from the fire. “B- But I never told him that. I couldn’t admit that I was doing it more to help him then to take the credit… And that’s what it was really I… I didn’t want to see him fall. I told everyone that it was about me but it wasn’t. But if I did tell everyone that I hadn’t done it for me, that would be very very bad indeed. Perhaps in helping him I’ve somehow caused him more torment? In which case, I really am just doomed to cause trouble wherever I go and maybe I should just embrace that.”
There was silence and he suddenly realised that Jesus was watching him. Aziraphale turned to see the most incredulously amused expression he’d ever seen on the man, he wished he could have it painted. “You’re thinking way too much about this brother. That’s not true at all. You clearly care for him and you can only do the best you can.”
Aziraphale felt a blush rise up, he spluttered and looked away. “An acquaintance… at least when I’d first met him and did the deed...”
“Extremely kind of you to help an acquaintance in that way.”
“Extremely foolish perhaps.”
“You shouldn’t punish yourself for doing an act of goodness either.”
“If only that were true.”
“You’re so full of contradictions…”
Aziraphale didn’t reply.
“... Why would your family not want you to ever help anybody else? Do they hate his family so much?”
Aziraphale eventually sighed and sat down heavily. “It’s complicated.”
“The life of a travelling salesman sounds… extremely stressful. But at least you saw India.”
Aziraphale laughed. “Yeah, at least I got to see India.”
Jesus was watching the fire thoughtfully, and after a minute of silence he responded. “I think if you sit down with your friend and tell him what you told me. Come clean about everything. Then he may understand. Would you try to do that?”
“... I’ll try… Hey Jesus?” He forgot the no names rule, but Jesus didn’t call him out on it.
“... Yes?”
“You’re going to help a lot of people. And hopefully they’ll remember you for a long time after your ministry. You’ll have to forgive a lot of people too. And this is part of that. This fast I mean.” He corrected himself quickly, rather than say “My eating pork in front of you was part of that,”. “In order to truly forgive people you need to have seen the light, and have lived in the darkness, then you can help people out of that darkness, by understanding what led them into it in the first place. People who’ve only ever lived in the light… They could never understand what some of us have to do to survive.” Aziraphale stood up and dusted the sand off his clothes. “I’d bless your ministry, but I can’t. So you may take or leave my advice, that’s up to you.”
“Are you going?” Jesus asked in confusion.
Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the fire burst into extended life while the camel stood up with a snort and trotted off into the night. “Your fire will last the rest of the night, and if you carry that middle log with you it’ll rekindle and last the rest of the month. Rest easy, no brigands will be out tonight. Also that Gabriel fellow, he’s one of those to have only ever seen the light.”
The jew turned to look at the camel in confusion. “Your camel! Your wares! He’s going don’t you-” He turned to look back but Aziraphale was gone. And when he turned his head again, the camel was too.
—————-
When Jesus returned after two more long weeks in the desert, he discovered that his disciples had befriended a familiar ram.