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Just outside Florence, 1020 AD
It took Azra just a moment too long to work out exactly which angelic presence had flooded the nunnery.
He froze, the scent of lavender and lilacs and lightning and Heaven overwhelming him, a scent he couldn’t forget it he tried, and one that never boded well.
“Sister Azra?” Sister Benetta, the founder of the nunnery in which Azra had been living for the past few years, laid a hand on his arm, jolting him out of his panic.
“I have to go see to something,” Azra said, patting the nun’s hand gently before sliding away. “I’ll be back in just a moment, don’t you worry.” He hurried off before Benetta, or any of the others, could comment, making his way down to the little chapel, where the Archangel Gabriel’s scent was strongest.
Sure enough, there he was, dressed in resplendent purple priest’s robes (really, this was a Catholic nunnery and Lent was months away, even Azra knew that, would it kill Gabriel to pay attention?) and smirking at Azra as he hurried closer.
“Playing nun, are we?” he asked.
“The Archangel Gabriel,” Azra said. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
“This is a house of God, demon,” Gabriel said. “You’re the intruder here, not me.” He frowned. “Why are you here? These women pledged themselves to the Lord Almighty, already. You can’t touch them.”
Azra rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now. You of all beings should know that faith has nothing to do with it.”
“Maybe not,” Gabriel conceded. “But my question still stands.”
“As if I’d tell you,” Azra said. Gabriel didn’t need to know what these women had built here, how they’d all used the vows of the Church to escape worse fates, the music and writing and art and philosophy that they shared in this space they’d made for themselves.
“Still so loyal,” Gabriel said. “How much good has it done you?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Azra said, rolling his eyes. “These women are mine, Gabriel, you shan’t touch them.”
Gabriel laughed loudly, clapping his hands together. “Good one, Aziraphale.”
Azra grimaced at the wave of pain that hit him with the use of his old name.
Gabriel’s grin broadened. “Y’know, I came here to deliver a vision, but...” He snapped his fingers, and Azra felt the wards spring up around him, trapping him in the chapel with the Archangel. “I’ve got time to have a little fun first.”
Oh, dear. This is worse than I thought. “Why? I’m hardly a threat to you.”
“You’re a demon,” Gabriel said. “I don’t need another reason.”
“I’m afraid I already have a nemesis, I’m not accepting applications for a new one.”
Gabriel laughed again, though it was significantly more forced this time. He took a step closer to Azra, who in turn stepped back, bumping up against the altar, panic flaring in his chest as he did so. He was trapped. Oh, dear Satan.
“You’re one Hell of a joker, demon,” Gabriel said. “Though, you bring up a good point. You’re getting in the way of my best field agent.”
“Crowley gets in my way just as often as I do his,” Azra said, suddenly more than a little bit worried for Crowley’s safety. “And that’s not a real reason, either.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so annoying.”
“I’m well aware,” Azra said. “I’m also not the one trapping you in here. There is absolutely nothing stopping you from doing your assignment and going on your way. Why are you bothering me?”
Gabriel took another step closer, frowning around the chapel. “Y’know, this place is supposed to be on consecrated ground. You can feel it there, just at the edge, but they didn’t quite do it right. Fixable, though. Just like that.”
He snapped his fingers again, and Azra cried out as the ground suddenly grew hot, scorching his feet. He stumbled back, bumping against the altar, and yelped as it burned him as well, jerking his hands away before the heat could damage the well-worn gloves that Crowley had conjured him so long ago.
“Why?” he pleaded, shifting back and forth between his feet in a desperate attempt to escape the burning. “Why do you bother with me? I haven’t worked for you for five thousand years, Gabriel, why do you still care so much?”
“I thought that was obvious,” Gabriel said, watching Azra’s shifting with a smirk on his face. “It’s all your fault. All of the messes I have to clean up on Earth, all the time I have to spend on this useless ball of mud? It’s because of you. If you hadn’t–”
There was a sudden flash of angelic power, and Azra flinched before he could stop himself.
“Hey, Gabriel, sorry, but what’s the hold-up? We’re supposed to– oh.”
The sound of Crowley’s voice sent a wave of relief through Azra’s body, followed closely by a much larger flood of panic.
“I caught this demon trying to tempt the nuns,” Gabriel said, as Azra pulled the sleeves of his habit down over his hands in order to try leaning against the altar again. The protection only lasted for a moment, and then Azra went back to his useless bouncing, not willing to singe Crowley’s gloves.
“Ah,” Crowley said, eyeing Azra with a frown. She looked lovely, even in her own nun’s habit, her hair tucked away for now but her golden eyes on full display. “I’ll take care of him, yeah? Michael’ll have both our asses if we’re late.”
“You sure?” Gabriel asked. “We’ve still got some time.”
“Good,” Crowley said, smirking over at Gabriel, though her gaze never left Azra’s. “I’ve been wanting to have words with this demon for a while, now.”
“Ahh,” Gabriel said, grinning. He clapped a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, and it was only because Azra knew her so very well that he saw her flinch. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Meet me outside when you’re done.”
“Got it,” Crowley said, and then Gabriel was gone, leaving the scent of lavender behind him.
“Crowley,” Azra said, though it probably came out as more of a gasp than anything– his feet rather hurt.
“What the Hell are you doing in a church, bunny?” Crowley demanded, grabbing Azra’s arm and teleporting him out to the gardens.
“Oh, thank you,” Azra said, sinking to the ground in relief and closing his eyes. “I was here before Gabriel showed up, I’ll have you know. I was meant to be tempting the nuns, Gabriel was right about that, but…"
“But instead you made friends with them,” Crowley surmised, sitting down next to Azra and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Makes sense. How're your feet?"
"They'll keep," Azra said, not entirely believing it himself.
Crowley scoffed. "Stop being so self-sacrificing for five minutes and let me help you."
"Gabriel is right here, dear, if he sees you–"
"He won't."
"It isn't worth the risk," Azra said firmly. "Thank you very much for the rescue, my dear, but you really ought to get going. What will you tell him? He'll want to come back for me when he's done, I'm sure."
"I dunno, I'll make something up," Crowley said, shrugging. "Tell him you slipped away from me or something. He already thinks you're some sort of demonic mastermind, he'll buy that you got out."
"It might bruise his ego," Azra pointed out. "He warded the church doors against me."
"All the more reason to say that, then, innit?" Crowley said, grinning. "Promise me you'll actually take care of your feet? I can smell the burnt fur from here, and I don't think you can miracle away holy char wounds."
"I do believe you're right," Azra said, wincing. "I'll be all right, my dear. Don't you worry about me."
"Too late for that," Crowley said. "Y'know, I could've warned you Gabriel was headed this way if I'd known you were here."
Azra sighed. "More communication between us would be dangerous, Crowley. It's risky enough, running into one another by chance every few decades."
"We've done it before," Crowley pointed out. "Back before… y'know. And no one was any the wiser to it then."
"Hell has begun to develop some notions of accountability," Azra said. "And Heaven has always been so much stricter–"
"But I'm a Seraph, and Gabe loves me," Crowley interrupted. "He won't care, not so long as I get it all done. As long as Michael doesn't decide to come down here again for any length of time, there's nothing for us to worry about. Honest."
Azra bit his lip, his brow furrowed and his mind racing through the possibilities. "So long as you promise to destroy the evidence…"
"Cross my heart," Crowley said. "It could prevent more of these sorts of situations, yeah? Or– y'know, what happened in Wessex. Or Rome, few years back. Or Constantinople. Or Chang'an. Or–"
"Yes, yes, you've made your point," Azra said, flapping a hand at Crowley in order to shut her up.
She grinned. "It's just… a business partnership, yeah? A mutually-beneficial Arrangement. Just to keep our Head Offices off our backs, and let us slack off a little more."
"You really oughtn't be encouraging sloth."
"Ah, but I'm doing so in a demon, so it cancels out," Crowley said. "Go find somewhere safe to wash your poor feet, yeah? I'll send you a letter from wherever I end up once Gabe's done with this round of visions, or whatever."
"All right," Azra said. He watched Crowley push herself to her feet once more, then, before he could quite stop himself, reached out and caught her by the sleeve.
"Bunny?"
"Just– be careful," Azra said softly, his hand clenching in the fabric, clearly angelically-conjured and infinitely softer than anything actually available for purchase at the time. "Please, don't– don't let them find out."
"I won't," Crowley said. "You know me."
"And that's exactly why I'm worried," Azra said. "Crowley…"
"I'll be okay, bunny," Crowley said, shifting her hand so that she was holding Azra's, just for a moment. "I promise."
Then she was gone, walking back into the church, and the pain in Azra's feet was beginning to claw its way to the forefront of his mind once more. He watched her go for a moment longer, then snapped his fingers, teleporting to the rooms he'd kept in Firenze just in case in order to set himself to rights.