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It was hard to find moments of peace, Aziraphale found, ever since the humans invented boom-boxes.
Then again, he thought, looking out at the idle street, maybe there's happiness to be found in the loud and angry music of the local teenagers. For now, however, he was quite happy to sit in his quiet crêperie with his worn copy of the Aenid instead.
A plate was placed on his table with a soft clink, and he turned his head to the almond and shaved chocolate masterpiece of a crêpe on his plate. The humans had certainly gotten their food right, no doubt about it. And, unlike humans, he didn't have to worry about building up unhealthy amounts of cholesterol, he thought with glee, raising his fork to cut out a piece.
Perhaps the universe didn't want him to be happy, as he savored the first piece, a slight commotion seemed to be causing a crowd to storm out of the café. He smiled softly to himself. The local teenagers had probably hot-wired another car. Oh dear he did wish they'd stop hot-wiring cars, it doesn't look good on their metaphysical records. He could hear the squealing of fast-moving tyres anyway, whoever it was at the helm.
But as the thrumming came ever closer, and the car in question stopped with a jerk outside his café he found the source of the disturbance wasn't, in fact, any local children, but was a certain slit-eyed son-of-a... well, you know.
Now, the odds of Crowley 'Just happening to be' in the same, small town in France as Aziraphale, were quite low, he found. The figure hopped out, sashaying with that odd smirk in his eye at seeing the angel through the window. A look the angel knew far, far too well. One that meant he was here for some directed reason, most certainly nefarious. At least from experience. Oh well, the demon was practically at his table by the time it took to question his intentions.
"Hello Angel" He said, a quirk to the side of mouth in place of a smile. He put his hand to lean on the table, and you could practically see the gears in his head preparing to cajole him into something. Aziraphale cut in before he had the chance.
"Ah, Crowley, how... good to see you, especially after the incident with the... well, your attempted assault on the church." This earned more of a smile, after the slight stalled look on Crowley's face for the interruption.
"Ah yes, thank you for that again. Now, I know you declined my offer to drive you somewhere then, but I was hoping I could change your mind now."
"Yes, well that's all very well and good, but firstly, could you please explain to me how it is you managed to find me here Crowley?"
"Ah, right, so you see, as I was passing through your area of London, I thought to myself-stopping in to see my favorite angel as I'm passing, why not." Aziraphale shuffled slightly, looking pleased that his absence had been noticed by someone. "However, upon knocking on your door and finding no answer, I might've perhaps considered, and then more then considered actually sort of gone into your shop," This was met with a small sound of complaint, quickly drowned out with "Not that it's my fault that it is extraordinarily easy to get into your unlocked bookshop-you really should do something about that-but I happened to see your plans for going to, well, here."
The rest of the events leading to Crowley being here could remain unspoken. Now however, the question of 'Why' begged immediate attention. When Aziraphale did indeed, ask why.
"Well have you heard of that non-profit concert the humans are doing, with all the hotshot bands?"
Aziraphale had not heard.
"Aw why you'd love it, all the money's going to some charity for the poor, Africa I think. But anyways, Queen is supposed to be playing," Ah, well that explained some of this mania "And while I don't mean to oversell my love for Queen, I don't think I can. I rather desperately want to go to this concert, but well, it would be rather sad to go alone." The ending left a surprised expression on Aziraphale's face.
"Are you asking if I'll go?"
"Just a once off thing, you know, real casual, and only if you're not doing anything of course."
"I think I could clear my schedule, sounds like delightful fun!" He smiled up at him, abandoning his plate, only leaving a twenty euro note on the table, and rose to accompany Crowley out.
"Great Angel, real great, but one thing." he said in a distant voice.
"Yes?" Aziraphale wondered what in the world could make Crowley serious.
"I would rather bathe in holy water than be seen with you in a three piece suit at a rock concert." This evoked an understandably offended noise. Aziraphale simply could not see anything sub-par about his ensemble.
"Whatever is wrong with my suit?" He exclaimed, staring self consciously at the sleeves.
"Nothing's wrong with it, per say, it's more so not in anyway suitable for the occasion. So please, at the nearest convenience for you, either burn it or go shopping"
He clutched one of his sleeves defensively, opening the car door with the other.
"Why did I agree to this"
"Because there's a part of you that is actually physically incapable of turning down an opportunity to either make someone happy or do good, you do-gooder."
"I have to say, that was a really terrible attempt at an insult Crowley, even for your level."
Crowley smirked as he pulled out of the (rather tight) place in the street he had parked.
"My quality of insults are excellent, I don't wanna hear it."
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This was, quite possibly, the most uncomfortable Aziraphale has been in a century. There was just so many people, everywhere you went, you felt as though you were being ringed through a sausage ringer. It really was quite horrid. He had somehow managed to stay within three feet of Crowley, which he considered an all-mighty sent miracle in these conditions. And the noise. How could anyone enjoy the music when it could barely be heard over the screaming? Not to mention the get-up Crowley had forced him to wear instead of his suit. He was dressed in some sort of old western cowboy outfit, buffalo sleeves and all.
He could not see how this was in anyway better than the lovely respectable suit he already had.
The screaming wasn't that bad when you got into it yourself. In fact, it was arguably kind of fun. In an loud, headache-ish sort of way. Aside from Aziraphale, Crowley was having the time of his life. He ha been shouting from the beginning, for all the bands, but by the time Queen were on stage, he was already rather drunk, and threw back his head to sing the lyrics back at... Mercury was it? Jupiter? Some planet or another. Whoever it was, he was singing the lyrics at them with the most energy Aziraphale had seen him with since... well it had to have been a few centuries at least.
Looking up at the angel's slightly amused grin, he flashed back one of his own.
"You've barely even touched your drink man, what the heckity-frickin-snick-bricket man, live a little!" Ah yes, the most amusing side of drunk Crowley. Made up curse supplements. He brought his cup to his lip. Some alcohol would probably do him some good honestly. Help him care less about the sardine can situation he was in, and more about the music.
Ugh the alcohol's terrible though. Even tasted a bit salty at the edge or something. How horrid. He missed his wine store back home. That wine was the good stuff, made.. Oh when was it? Well the alcohol would serve the purpose of getting him drunk, and at his current mindset thats all it had to do. he tipped the drink back to finish it off, and Crowley whooped to hype him up. He shook his head to rid himself of the bitter taste, and just tried to focus on the beat of the music, of the stamping of people's feet. He tried to ignore the people around him.
Actually, it was really just one person now, a lady who kept on getting as close as possible, occasionally trying to engage him in dancing with her.
At the stage he noticed this, he found his thoughts moving sluggishly, due to the alcohol obviously. He tried to gently edge out of the lady's way, not wanting to offend her or falsely assume something of her. But she kept on moving closer, and slowly pushing him farther and farther away from Crowley. At this stage he smelled something awful, something rotten. Almost carrion-like.
He tried to yell at this stage, for Crowley, but he was a solid ten feet away but this point, and for some reason his tongue felt... sore? And rather heavy, heavier than drunkedness.
Something wasn't right.
"Cr.. Cro" He tried to get out, his voice frail, and his vision going unstable at the edges now. The lady was leaning in at this stage, close to his ear far too close.
"Why don't you come with me, Darling?" He tried to push her off, but his efforts to take control of his limbs was becoming increasingly futile.
He... He believed he was going to be alright. Surely all the people he was surrounded by could see there was something wrong, that she was encroaching on him despite his efforts against her. They couldn't simply leave him to her mercy...
...Could they...?
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Queen's time had come to close, meaning Crowley's interest had also, come to a close. Now to find where the angel had gone.
He hadn't actually seen him leaving, or more likely, getting pushed away by the crowd that was like a temperamental tide. He was admittedly, very eager to see what the great and benevolent angel thought of rock 'n' roll.
"Aziraphale?" He yelled around him, scanning the crowd for that ugly buffalo waistcoat he had put him in. He laughed at the memory of him coming out of the store's dressing room, and twirling awkwardly with just a tinge of his ingrained flare, despite his obvious distaste. He had looked like an uncomfortable fish forced to parade around on land the poor bastard. Eh, he'd probably apologise afterwards, but it had so definitely been worth it.
He caught sight of a tuft of white hair, and smiled as he started to make his way through the crowd.
Then he stopped.
Why was he bent over, like he was struggling to stay awake? And what was that lady doing?
Of course, people trying to help those who were feeling unwell isn't at all rare.
Ones with barely concealed rotting flesh edging their faces were.
He shoved his way through the crowds now, not caring of the protesting voices. He shouted, and despite the crowd, despite the music, his voice reached over the commotion, and silence fell everywhere within a fifteen foot radius.
The woman, or rather the demon, looked up with furtive fear, like an animal in the face of a hunter. And a deer carcass was all she was going to be when Crowley was done with her.
He landed on her with a right hook before she had time to open her mouth. her eyes showed her consciousness disconnecting before she hit the ground. He placed a foot at her throat and fingered his pockets for the small travel sized bottle of holy water he had taken to keeping there. Only to not find it there.
Fuck, I must've left it in the Bentley. He shook his mind of killing her, deciding he could deal with her later. For now, He landed on the floor himself, flashing his demon eyes to any of the humans that tried to encroach, to see what was wrong.
As clever people who care about self-preservation do, they stayed away.
He turned Aziraphale over, and checked his pulse, his breathing. He should be fine, as long as they had used a human drug. If that's what this was. Satan below, he didn't even think those half-wits down there knew what band-aid was, let alone that he'd be going, that his weaknesses would be vulnerable. Last time he'd underestimate them so grievously.
Aziraphale wasn't quite unconscious, he was still grasping at the edges. He reached out a hand, his movements unbalanced, but landing on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley bent over him, and whispered softly
"Let's get you out of here."
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The sunlight hurt.
Everything hurt actually, and when he tried to sit up, from wherever it was he was, his head swirled so violently he abruptly sat right back down, grimacing as he brought an arm over his eyes, trying to keep everything about the world away.
He emptied his blood of foreign substances, thinking he had somehow drunken too much or something. Well, he was certainly finding it hard to remember anything.
His head was clearer now though, without whatever it was he had had in his veins, so he sat up, and rested his head against the headboard.
"Let's see" he muttered to himself.
There was Band-aid of course, but what then? The only memory his brain could hold on to before it slipped away was of... that woman, and how she smelled rotten, something that insulted the earth by walking on it. Good lord, whatever had become of him? Surely nothing too awful, as he seemed to have ended up in a motel somewhere between his last memory and his present.
How odd... Normally his memory was top notch... Oh well, he could just ask Crowley. Where was Crowley actually?
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, hoisting himself upwards. He noticed, to his delight, that those awful buffalo sleeves were gone, and he was wearing one of his own night-gowns. He attempted to put the pieces together, as he made his way to the conjoining door in his room.
From the surroundings in the room, and his last memory, he'd hazard a guess that he was indeed in a motel or suchlike. As for his memory loss, could he really have gotten so drunk? It was especially hard for angels to get blackout drunk, normally it took at least ten drinks or so.
As he grasped the door handle, he heard Crowley's voice, rather loud and aggravated. So he was arguing with someone then. Oh Crowley you temperamental goose. He had long since stopped trying to inhibit Crowley's aggravated spells. Upon swinging the door open, he found a rather unimagined horrible sight.
A woman in a chair (Tied to) with Crowley's hand resting on her throat, her head otherwise tilted downwards.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed in horror "Whatever on either hell or heaven are you doing to this poor lady," as he rushed to her side to try and pull him away. But as he managed to separate Crowley's hand form her throat, despite Crowley's surprised protests (He had probably though him still asleep) Her head fell back, and he saw it to be the same woman from the concert. he felt hands tugging at his shoulders, gently pulling him back from the sight of that horrid lady and her cadaver-like skin. She was unconscious, bet there was a constant gurgle of coagulated blood in her throat. He shuddered to think what Crowley had been doing before he entered the room, despite whatever it was she tried to do to him.
He turned away from the sight and looked with beseeching, confused eyes at Crowley.
"Crowley... What in the heavens happened to me, I... I can't remember a single thing." The demon smiled pityingly, simply pulled him into a hug and just mumbled into his sleeve that
"I didn't protect you"
Aziraphale gave a short little laugh, more out of confusion than anything.
"Protect me? Whatever do you mean, protect me from... from her? Whatever did she try to do to me?" He pulled out from the hug, nice as it was and grasped his sleeves, gazing into his eyes with scared intent.
"To discorporate you, I found a gun in her pocket."
The words left him shaken. He stepped backwards a little, like a disturbed little mouse.
"A-ah, I see..." He said faintly, giving micro shakes of his head with way too much speed to be genuine. He looked unsteady on his feet, his balance being threatened yet again, so Crowley stepped forward to prop him up by an elbow and a shoulder.
"Now don't faint on my again Angel" He said, concern drawn in the lines of his face. He guided him to the bed, and sat him down, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. "I shouldn't have asked you to come with me, forgive me. I won't ask you to come somewhere like this again, I promise"
Aziraphale waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm not a child Crowley, I chose to come here out of my own volition. But... it is sweet of you to say so" He admitted, looking a little surprised at his own words. Surprised at Crowley's too. Never inviting hims somewhere again? How ridiculous, they had the rest of eternity stretched out before them. And... well....
He didn't want to leave just yet, they had met again for the first time in a solid twenty years or so, did he want to move past that already? No, he didn't believe he did.
"And maybe... maybe we don't have to go our separate ways just yet anyhow." He said, looking up with hopeful eyes. The kind that had been giving Crowley heart problems for six millennia.
"What, really?" He managed, struggling to maintain words. "Do you really mean it?"
Aziraphale smiled softly
"Yes, I do believe I do."