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Antioch – 1181 AD
A small collection of rough-hewn tents clustered around the walls of the ancient city like barnacles on the hull of a ship. People moved in between these tents with various goods tucked under their arms while scrawny cats and dogs picked at some of the scraps left behind. Some merchants had decided to make the best of their current circumstances and were hawking wares to passersby. The great portcullis had throngs of refugees surrounding it, all clamoring for entry. The area was growing increasingly unstable, with rumors that another Crusade was on the horizon.
Nasty business, to be certain, but Aziraphale did his best to put it out of his mind for the time being, though it troubled him to do so. He was here to perform some minor blessings, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could return home. Antioch was far too deep in the crusading areas for his liking, and had slim pickings as far as food and drink, too, what with the trade routes shifting and all.
As he worked his way through the crowd, the angel saw that the main gate had a ring of armored guards surrounding it. When the surrounding civilians cried out for entry and jostled to get to the front of the crowd, the guards would shove them back roughly with the hafts of their weapons. Above their heads hung a row of gibbets, all containing corpses in various stages of decomposition. One of them had a crow perched on it, tearing delicately at a loose finger.
Not exactly a promising sight. But he didn’t have much of a choice.
He approached one of the guards and cleared his throat. “Excuse me…”
A pair of mistrusting eyes immediately snapped to him. “City’s on lockdown. Nobody gets in or out. Camp outside all you want, but until we get our orders, stay away from the gate. Now get back!”
He put a hand on Aziraphale’s chest and shoved him away. With only a slight bluster, the angel adjusted his cream-colored tunic and stood a little straighter, trying his best to look intimidating. “Now look here, I just have some business to attend to and then I’ll be on my way. So if you could just let me through…” While he said this, he made a gesture. Hopefully, with the aid of a quick miracle, he could get this over with.
This hope dissipated as the guard’s eyes widened with shock.
Oh no.
“What-did you-wha-you tried to bewitch me!”
“He did, I saw him!” Another guard pointed at Aziraphale and nudged one of his comrades. “I bet he’s a demon coming ahead of the Crusades! Look at the way he’s dressed!”
Aziraphale backed away slowly. “I promise, I’m no demon!” He held his hands up imploringly.
However, it was already too late. The cry of “Demon! Demon!” had already been taken up by the surrounding crowd. People reached out to grab the angel by his tunic, trying to hold him in place. One of the guards nocked an arrow and pointed it straight at his head.
“Now, really, I must insist that-”
The arrow missed his forehead by a fraction of a fraction, taking a lock of curly white hair with it. Recognizing that he was now in imminent danger of discorporation, Aziraphale quickly retreated into the crowd. While he was running, one of the gibbets fell and knocked several of the guards over, giving him time to make his exit.
Rather odd, but a problem for later.
Another arrow whipped past his ear. He used another miracle to make sure it sunk harmlessly into the ground.
“Oh this won’t do at all,” he muttered. Drat and double drat the damned Crusades and all the trouble they caused!
Aziraphale glanced backward and, with another quick wave, started winding the winch controlling the portcullis. With a great creaking and clanking, it began trundling upwards. This caused a massive surge of people to rush forward in an attempt to gain entry to Antioch. Now mobbed by civilians, the guards didn’t have enough room to swing their weapons or raise their bows.
But Aziraphale was still moving in the wrong direction, and had far too much attention on him still. He could use another miracle to hide himself, but he was already certain he was going to end up going over budget, and Heaven were such sticklers about miracles nowadays, and that sort of miracle would require a lot of power to pull off with a crowd this size. He ducked into a nearby tent and bent over to catch his breath. He had to think of something. What could he do? Think, think, think-
Something darted through his legs and out the other side of the tent. The angel jumped and turned around. A mangy gray cat sped away and disappeared into the throng of people. Several others followed suit, bouncing over obstacles, wide-eyed and fearful. One poor creature approached the edge of a tent and wriggled underneath it, even though the gap was a scant few centimeters width.
Aziraphale looked back at the portcullis. Whoever manned the winch on the other side had managed to lower it again, but it was the kind that had openings in it. A man couldn’t fit through, certainly, but something fairly small could get through easily…
Well, he supposed he wasn’t required to have a human shape for this job, or any job, really. As long as it got done. Definitely not his preferred method, but it would have to do. No sense causing a bigger fuss on either Earth or in Heaven.
Aziraphale glanced around to make sure the attention was sufficiently off him before he closed the tent’s flaps completely. Then he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated. In an instant, he’d shrunk down on all fours. White fur erupted out of his body and a myriad of new colors, sounds, and smells surrounded him. The dim light filtered through the thick canvas of the tent now looked as bright as the uncovered sun. The newly grown whiskers on his face quivered in the humid air and his nose twitched slightly. He shook himself and nodded once.
In a place overrun with cats, what was one more?
The angel darted out of the tent and quickly wove through the crowd. It was a strange and nearly overwhelming experience, being ankle height to everyone, and his legs were a tad too short to make really good speed, but he was quick enough, he supposed, and anyway, the size was what mattered. Though he could do without the great big bush of a tail flapping behind him. He just needed to get through the portcullis and into the city, change back if possible, get the miracles done, and leave. Simple.
After a minute of sprinting, he was at the gate. The guards were still recovering from being swarmed and from having a gibbeted corpse dropped on them, so he slipped past without any notice. He made for one of the lower openings and put his head through it. His front legs and chest also made it through the gap without issue, but his midsection became stuck. A bubble of panic rose in the angel’s throat, and he wriggled frantically. For one terrifying moment, Aziraphale was sure the guards would turn around, would see him, would kill him. He slipped through the portcullis before that could happen, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Almighty.
Antioch was a big enough city as it was, but it was even larger from the perspective of a cat. Buildings towered impossibly high over his head, built of stones that looked to be twice his current size. The walls seemed to stretch on to the infinite horizons all around him. He lowered himself to the ground and slunk into the city proper.
It was, unfortunately, bustling with people. A forest of shins and shoes meandered through the streets, and Aziraphale had quite the time avoiding them all. Several small children grabbed at him while the adults would kick at him or shoo him with their hands. He wormed away from the hands, weaved through the legs, and eventually ducked through the spokes of a cartwheel to enter an alleyway.
The angel wrinkled his nose at the smell of human waste and disease. Several paupers were propped up against the wall, wrapped in scraps of cloth, some possibly dying or already dead. He stopped to spare them a pitying glance. One of them looked back at him with a look of unmistakable hunger, so he quickly hurried on.
The alley dead-ended in the wall that wrapped around Antioch’s commercial district. Aziraphale gave it a doubtful glance. Unfortunately, there were still enough people around to notice if a cat suddenly sprang back into a man, and enough starving peasants around to make a quick meal of him if he dawdled for too long. If Upstairs wasn’t keen on excess miracles, they were definitely not keen on excess discorporation.
So. Onward on four paws, he supposed. He walked closer to the wall and craned his neck to get a better view of it. Several of the stones jutted out at awkward angles; enough for his claws to catch on, perhaps? Aziraphale considered his options, squatted down, and jumped for it. He made it about two feet in the air and just managed to catch the edge of one of the lower stones.
“Taking a walk on the wild side, are we, angel?”
Aziraphale squeaked, lost his purchase on the outcrop, and fell back into a puddle of muddied water. He spluttered and shook himself. Oh, how he hated the feeling of wet fur!
“Crowley?! I – ack – how did you – pleh! – how did you get in? The gates are shut tight!” He looked around, but there was no sign of his demon counterpart anywhere.
“Same way you did, apparently.”
A dark blot appeared on the wall directly above Aziraphale. He immediately recognized the yellow slit-pupiled eyes staring down at him from the feline’s face.
Feeling just a little silly, he asked, “But…I thought…aren’t you a snake, though?”
Crowley snorted. He put his front legs over the wall and slipped down to the ground below. His paws made no sound when he landed next to the sodden angel. Unlike Aziraphale, the demon was all legs and tail with hardly a scrap of fat on him. His black fur was smooth and sleek, and if Aziraphale tilted his head a bit, the sunlight brought out crimson highlights deep within Crowley’s undercoat. His eyes and ears both seemed much too large for his head, and his canines jutted out over his lower lip slightly.
“Sure I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be anything else. Be a bit of a shame if I was limited like that.” He slowly circled Aziraphale, who got the distinct impression he was being appraised like a prize cow. “Angel, you look like you should be lapping up cream in a palace while sitting on a silk pillow. Not like a street cat at all.” The demon laughed.
Aziraphale huffed and turned his head away. “Just because I have standards doesn’t mean-no it doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?”
Crowley shrugged his thin shoulders. “Temptations need doing. Ran into the same problem you did at the gate. Then I caught sight of you and…well…” He winked.
“Then…was that your doing with the gibbet? You could’ve killed someone!”
“Nobody was hurt, and it kept you from discorporation, didn’t it?” He cast a yellow eye over the angel once again. “Though I have to say, I definitely wasn’t expecting…this.”
If cats could blush, Aziraphale would have. “I panicked!” He shook himself again, quietly willed the mud away with another miracle, and walked back up to the wall. “At least it seems to be working so far.”
“Seems more trouble than it’s worth to me. Certainly not my favorite way to get around.” Crowley yawned and flexed his hind legs. The added fluidity of his feline form served to make him even more snakelike than usual. “Still, better this than horses.” He meandered over to the angel and joined him in looking at the wall.
Once again, Aziraphale bent down, braced, and jumped. His claws gripped the edge of the stone, while his back legs scrabbled for purchase. Most definitely undignified, and he got the feeling Crowley was enjoying the show immensely.
“Why’d you make your legs so short anyway?”
Well that confirmed it. Aziraphale pulled himself up and glared down at the black cat below, who grinned back up at him. “This form is perfectly serviceable, thank you very much.”
The demon squatted down, rocked back, and leaped. In one fluid motion he sailed upward and landed lightly on the stone directly above Aziraphale.
“That was entirely unnecessary,” he sniffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Crowley, per usual, sat and watched him with an air that was much too smug for Aziraphale’s liking. He finally said, “What I don’t understand is why they’d close the city off anyway. I mean, there’s nothing particularly valuable here. At least, nothing really worth protecting. Not since the recession hit. Why not let people in?”
“I expect…” Aziraphale jumped again and thankfully made the next stone with only minimal scrambling. “…that the recent unrest from the Crusades…” He jumped again. The top wasn’t too far away now. He could probably make it on the next jump. Probably. “…as well as the earthquake, well, they’ve put the residents on edge, haven’t they?”
The demon leaped past him again and stared down with his typical unblinking stare. “Your lot support the Crusades, don’t they?”
Aziraphale put his ears back. “I suppose they must do.”
“Even though people keep dying unnecessarily and nobody ever manages to crusade anything?”
“Crowley, I’ve told you before-” Aziraphale attempted the final jump for the wall and only just managed to catch the edge. His weight pulled painfully on his front claws. “I-I’m not – agh – consulted on – gah – policy decisions!” Chunks of dirt and stone were dislodged by the frantic scrambling of his hind feet, serving as an apt reminder for what would happen should the angel fall. “But – ah – in a general sense…yes, I believe so.” Bit by bit, he hauled his forelimbs and head on top of the wall.
“And what sort of ‘general sense’ is that?” Crowley hooked his front paws on the wall and hopped up. Apparently he had decided to ignore Aziraphale’s continued struggling in favor of lounging in a patch of sunlight. He stared at the angel with all the cool confidence of a lion surveying its territory. “Both sides think they’re doing the right thing with God’s blessing. The defending and crusading bits.”
Aziraphale finally managed to kick up with his hind legs and fully scale the wall. Through heaving breaths, he said, “Certainly…but…well…the Almighty’s…Her plans…”
“Don’t tell me – they’re ineffable?”
The angel sniffed. “…perhaps.”
“Ineffable or not, doesn’t it bother you?” Crowley stood up and snaked over to Aziraphale. “All this suffering, and for what, exactly?” He wound his way around the angel again, his tail brushing against his white flanks.
“Of course it does, but it isn’t our place to question. I do what I can where I can.” Aziraphale thwacked the demon’s thin face with his tail, and did his best to suppress the flicker of delight when Crowley jumped back. “Speaking of, I’d best be going.”
He turned and began to walk along the wall’s edge. The angel had to admit, the view was much better from up here (though that, in part, was due to the lack of shins). Antioch’s entire commercial district fanned out beneath them like a map. A steady thread of people in various different clothing styles wound their way around and through the various buildings, going about their daily lives as always.
Still, the city was clearly past its prime. Aziraphale vaguely remembered visiting Antioch back when it was still under Greek rule, nearly a thousand years ago now. (Or was it more than a thousand?) It had been the apple of the Grecian city-states then, covered in lovely mosaics and offering the best in spices and plays and fine wines. Now Antioch had changed hands enough times over the past millennium that much of its heritage had been worn away by decades of wind and war. Most of the mosaics were gone, the theatre had long since fallen into ruin, and while there was still some fine wines and food to be had, both sat in stark contrast against the ranks of starving and destitute refugees. So much suffering in one place…it did tear at his heart so.
Crowley seemed to notice the sudden shift in his mood. He sauntered ahead of the angel and glanced back over his shoulder. “Y’know, why go to all the trouble of changing your shape if you’re not going to do anything with it?”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to, I dunno, liven things up a bit?”
“I’m working right now!”
“Are you really.” Crowley waited for him to catch up, then kept pace. Aziraphale noted, only a little grumpily, that the demon’s shoulder was a good half an inch higher than his own. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. New shape, new opportunities, angel.”
“Less opportunities, more like. How on Earth am I supposed to get a decent meal looking like this?” He glared down at his paws. Brown dirt already marred the pristine white fur. “Such a bother to keep clean, too. And I’m not entirely certain how we’re supposed to do any sort of blessings or temptations.”
“Well, that just makes it more of a challenge then, doesn’t it?”
They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Aziraphale would never mention it to Crowley, but he was glad for the company. The demon’s conversations almost always veered into less than comfortable territory; however, he found that, as the centuries passed, he didn’t mind it as much. Or at least he could push the guilt aside with more ease. At the very least, it passed the time well enough.
“Look down there, angel.”
Crowley’s voice brought him out of his thoughts once again. The demon had stopped in his tracks and gazed down into the city below. A bazaar of sorts spread out beneath them, a veritable sea of dyed canvas and low tables. People wove in and out of the different stalls, eagerly trading goods between each other. The heady aroma of cooking meats and ripe fruit hung on the air around it. Aziraphale closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“It does look marvelous, doesn’t it? Good to know there’s still some semblance of normalcy, even with the war and the recession and whatnot.” He glanced over at Crowley and immediately recognized the glint in his eye. “Crowley…”
The demon’s face split into a fang-filled grin. “Cmon, angel, let’s enjoy ourselves a little.”
Before Aziraphale could object, Crowley had leaped over the edge of the wall. He slid down the rampart on all fours and landed atop a merchant’s cart. The sudden weight change and movement dislodged a barrel resting in the cart, which rolled off its fellows and smashed open on the cobbles below. Crowley stumbled a bit, but still made it to the ground in one piece. Ignoring the furious yells of the merchant, the slow glug of wine leaking out of the barrel, and the stares of the surrounding crowd, the demon sped off for the nearest booth like a dark streak of lightning.
Oh dear. Head office would never let Aziraphale hear the end of it if he let Crowley rampage through the markets of Antioch like this. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and jumped. His descent was markedly more ungainly than the demon’s, and he ended up sliding backwards down the wall, trying and failing to slow his descent by digging into the stone with his claws. He also ended up landing atop the merchant’s cartful of barrels. Unlike Crowley, he wasn’t able to recover as easily, and nearly ended up crushed when the rest of the barrels began rolling out of the cart as well. He scrambled to his feet and bunny-hopped from a rolling barrel to the rim of a wheel to the ground. Once all four feet had connected the angel sprinted after the demon, heart pounding in his throat.
What followed was complete madness. Crowley darted easily through the crowded ankles and feet, weaving as easily through them as a snake through grass. Many people stumbled back or tripped over him, dropping whatever they carried in the process. This added a deluge of torn cloth, spilled beads, burst fruits, broken pottery, rolling baskets and much else to work through as well. Aziraphale had to zig and zag back and forth to avoid both the frantic stamping of feet and the increasingly hazardous falling objects. Somewhere in the forest of feet in front of him the tail end of a black cat winked in and out of view, quick as an eel and twice as slippery.
“Crowley, stop! You’ll get us both killed!”
Either the demon couldn’t hear him or he didn’t care; in any case, he wasn’t showing any sign of slowing down. Aziraphale would never catch up to him at this rate, and without a clear line of sight, he was worried that any miraculous interventions could cause more harm to the humans than good. He paused for a moment and glanced around. A nearby canopy was supported by a fairly sturdy looking length of pine wood, and the canvas atop the shops all looked sturdy enough.
Decision made, the angel darted to the side and climbed. Unlike the stone, his claws made quick work of scaling the wood, and he had a much clearer view in moments. The downside was that it was nearly impossible to see the ground through the mass of people, let alone catch any glimpse of Crowley. Still, it was better than getting stomped on or crushed by debris.
Somewhere further ahead of him, a display of necklaces dropped to the ground when the rope holding them aloft snapped. Aziraphale carefully crossed the canvas and leaped across to the next swath, wincing as a crash and a yell sounded from somewhere behind him. Finding stable footholds was a challenge, but he was making progress and gaining confidence with each canvas crossed. When he looked back down at the crowd, he though he spied a flash of lanky limbs near a smashed urn, but he couldn’t be certain.
Then, when he crossed to the next awning, Aziraphale felt the canvas give far too much. Before he could react, the floor dropped out from beneath him and he fell to the ground with a rather undignified shriek. The canvas rose up around him like a tidal wave, and together they crashed into a stand of fresh fish. The angel wriggled in the confines of the fabric and felt the ground beneath him slide and slap onto the stones beneath him.
A hand suddenly delved into the canvas, seized Aziraphale roughly by the skin at the back of his neck, and yanked him back into the open air. Startled, disoriented, he could only let out a little gasp as he came face to face with a very angry looking fishmonger.
“Gotcha! You are going to regret ruining my stock, you little snake!”
“I demand that you put me down this instant!”
Unfortunately, it seemed the fishmonger didn’t understand him in the slightest. The angel tried to wiggle free, but couldn’t. Something about the way the man held him made it difficult to move his legs. The man turned and pulled his arm back. With horror, Aziraphale realized just what he intended to do. He writhed and lashed as much as he could. No luck. The man’s fingers were buried deep enough in his long fur to grip skin, and it didn’t seem like he was going to dislodge them any time soon.
Before the man could strike the angel’s head against the wall, he let out a scream of pain and released his ruff. Aziraphale hit the ground with a thud. Stunned, he glanced up and saw-
“Crowley?”
The demon was scaling up the man’s torso, claws sunk deep into the loose shirt he was wearing. He hissed, mouth open wide, and sunk his long teeth into the man’s outstretched hand. The merchant wailed and shook his hand as hard as he could. Without thinking, Aziraphale moved forward and pushed himself against the man’s legs. He tripped and hit the ground with a crash. Crowley detached himself and moved over to the angel.
“Alright there, angel?” His voice was unbearably casual.
“You know perfectly well that-”
“Glad to hear it. Keep moving!”
With that, the demon took off again. Aziraphale performed a quick miracle to ensure the man was not too badly hurt, and would find a little extra money in his coffers later on, and pursued Crowley. To the demon’s credit, he had slowed his pace somewhat, seemingly aware that Aziraphale couldn’t keep up with his longer stride. This slower pace did not stop him from tripping pedestrians or dislodging merchandise from their stands, though. The angel did damage control where he could, mumbling apologies through heaving breaths.
He was definitely not cut out for this sort of chaos.
Eventually, the two celestial felines made it to the other side of the market. In their wake lay a swath of downed canvas, ruined merchandise, and barely concealed anger. Crowley ducked under a cart and made his way over to an empty road. The commotion, it seemed, had drawn many more people out from the surrounding buildings and streets, so they were able to stop and catch their breath beneath a windowsill. Aziraphale panted heavily and fixed his gaze on his feet. The white fur was now stained a purplish crimson. Ah, that was likely the wine. He lifted a paw and sniffed at it. Seemed like a good vintage. Such a pity.
“Well that was fun.” Crowley stretched lazily and smiled to himself.
Aziraphale let out an indignant huff. “You are utterly impossible sometimes, Crowley.” He put both his nose and tail in the air and stalked past the demon. “What, exactly, did any of that accomplish, besides near discorporation?”
“Times are changing, angel. The old ways don’t work so well anymore.” The demon sauntered around him and bumped his hips against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Little bit of chaos sows a little bit of evil. Simple.”
“You call that a little bit of chaos?!” The angel’s fur stood on end; he felt rather like an angry feather duster. “That was an utter disaster!”
Crowley blinked back at him, the very picture of feigned innocence. Aziraphale took another breath to calm himself and looked back where they came, hoping that the commotion had died down somewhat. A few people had knelt down and were hastily shoving whatever food and goods they could get into pockets and robes. Several had already been spotted and were sprinting for side streets, followed closely by armed merchants.
“They’re…they’re stealing! During all this!” He goggled at them, completely dumbfounded.
Crowley shrugged. “People have to eat.”
He gave the demon a bewildered look. “But…but…they mustn’t!”
“Oh, sure, they mustn’t. But maybe they have to.” Crowley turned and began walking down the street. “Morality doesn’t matter so much when you’re starving, angel.”
Aziraphale tried to think of a counter, failed, and settled for a disgruntled silence. The aura of smugness radiating off the demon was nearly overwhelming now.
He then realized, with some horror, that he’d quite forgotten why he’d come to Antioch in the first place.
The pair wandered through Antioch for a good hour or two after the chaos in the market. Aziraphale was desperately trying to remember which miracles he’d been tasked with performing, completely beside himself with worry and embarrassment. Crowley didn’t seem to notice much; his new goal was apparently scratching at some of the tapestries and coats-of-arms hanging on the buildings around them, pulling out threads with his long claws. It was an incredibly petty level of evil, and Aziraphale was sure Crowley was enjoying himself. So he ignored him.
Then Aziraphale felt something brush against his consciousness, almost like a downy feather. He twitched his ears and turned his head. It was a unique sort of suffering, a keening that drew at him, begged him to approach. He heeded and started off down an alley.
The buildings slowly changed from commercial to residential, though they were in various states of decline. The one the angel was being drawn to was little more than a pile of rubble with a curtain in place of a door. His ears flicked; he could hear rough coughs coming from within the building.
“Something got your attention, angel?” Crowley, it seemed, had followed after him, done with his inane destruction for now.
Aziraphale gestured to the residence with his head and began circling it. In a moment, he spotted an opening in the stones and climbed up toward it. Careful not to move in full view of the house’s occupants, he peered inside.
A small girl lay on a cot within the tiny room. The rough blanket was pulled up to her chin. Tremors wracked her tiny body. With almost ever breath came a cough, and Aziraphale could smell blood on her breath. Tears coursed down their pallid cheeks.
“Oh, the poor thing,” cooed the angel. “Poor, poor child.”
An arm brushed the curtain covering the doorway aside, and a woman stepped into the room. A man with a pack followed closely behind her.
“In here, sir,” she said. “She’s been like this for days now.”
The man knelt beside the girl’s bed and briefly examined her. Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley. The demon only raised his brows in response.
Finally, the man stood up. “I’m sorry, milady. There’s nothing I can do. Consumption, I’m afraid. She’s too far gone.”
The woman’s eyes welled with tears. “But, but there must be something! She’s all I have left! Please!” She fell to her knees and grabbed at his robes. “I’ll give you all the money I have! Anything you want, it’s yours! Whatever you want!”
The man gently pulled his robes away. “Here…take this.” He reached into his pack and handed the woman a paper sachet. “Boil these herbs in water. It will ease her suffering.”
She wailed and clutched the sachet to her chest. Averting his gaze, the man mumbled something under his breath and took his leave of them. Both angel and demon hunched against the little dwelling, but thankfully they were not spotted. The distraught woman crawled over to her daughter’s bedside and buried her face in the blanket. Her hands clasped behind her neck and shook violently.
“Oh God, oh Jesus, please, no, no, no, no, no no no. Please, no, not my baby, please God. Please. Please. Don’t take my baby, God, please. I promise I’ll never stray again, God, please. Just don’t take my baby too, please. I beg of you!”
She sobbed for what felt like hours, and Aziraphale’s heart broke for her.
Then she picked herself up, wiped her cheeks, and smiled weakly. “Mummy’s going to make you some tea, all right?”
The child let out a wracking cough.
With a small, shuddering sob, the woman turned and left the room.
Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. Then he straightened and jumped down into the room.
Behind him, Crowley took his place on the windowsill. “What are you doing?”
“Well…she did ask, you know.”
Even on his stubby legs, the angel crossed the room quickly and glanced up. My, but it was certainly strange to see a bed from this low angle. He brushed the thought away and leaped onto the cot. He stumbled a little, as the child’s weight caused the landing to be uneven, but he righted himself easily enough. The fever in her body was so potent he could feel the heat of it through both the blanket and the thick fur on his paws.
The girl stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked in surprise and tried to sit up. Her body shook with the effort, and she settled back into the bed. A whimper built up in her throat, but it was eclipsed by a cough.
“Fear not my dear.” Aziraphale moved up next to the girl’s head. Her face relaxed immediately. “I am an angel. I shall not hurt you.” Though she could not understand him, the words still seemed to sooth the girl. She blinked again.
“You’re a funny kitty.” Her voice was so weak and soft that even the angel’s currently keen hearing could barely pick it up. He wondered if Crowley could hear her at all. She lifted a trembling hand and placed it between Aziraphale’s ears. “You…you have pretty eyes. Like. Like the sky.”
He froze at the unexpected touch. Her hand was hot, almost too hot, and so frail, yet brushed the fine hair on his head with utmost gentility.
He was sure then what he should do. What he needed to do.
“Angel.” He looked back at Crowley. Since the demon was framed by the light of the sun behind him, Aziraphale couldn’t make out the expression on his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Her mother asked, and she shall receive.”
The angel moved onto the girl’s chest and curled up right over her heart. He gazed at her serenely for a moment. Then he shut his eyes and concentrated. Humming gently to himself, Aziraphale began working on a miracle. The hum built in his chest and vibrated throughout the room, until the very stones themselves seemed to buzz with the angel’s love. Beneath him, the girl let out a deep sigh. Already the heat was subsiding, the harshness in her throat fading, the fluid in her lungs reducing. He worked carefully, letting the hum in his chest sing on, until he felt that she was well again.
Her fingers, free of sweat and heat, tangled in his fur and sunk deep into the fluff. He opened his eyes to meet hers once more. The child’s face was no longer pale or sweaty. Her dark eyes sparkled with utter delight. He could see his own face reflected within them now; two blue eyes, a pink nose, and two tufted ears surrounded by a massive ruff of feathery white hair.
“Kitty? Did you…did you help me feel better?” She cupped his face in her hands. He thought for a moment before nodding. She giggled and shifted in her cot. He moved off her chest and onto the ground as she rose and stretched. “Oh, thank you, kitty, thank you!” She spun around happily, arms held out wide.
Aziraphale couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face, or the light that filled his heart at the sight of her. Perhaps it was just one human life against so much suffering. But still. It was something.
She, in the meantime, had stopped her twirling. “Oh! Is this your friend, kitty? Did he help too?”
Aziraphale blinked and realized the little girl was now standing in front of the window. Crowley, having watched the entire miraculous event, had frozen in what seemed to be shock.
Which then allowed the youth to seize him by the middle and twirl him around in a tight hug. “Thank you both, thank you!”
“Agh-no-angel! Do something!” The demon wriggled like a fish in the child’s grasp, long legs flapping about uselessly.
Try as he might, the angel couldn’t help it. He let out a peal of laughter and pranced over to the twirling duo. “Oh, Crowley, I really shouldn’t.” He winked and hopped back onto the sill. “I’ve already used quite a few miracles cleaning up after you, you know.”
“Aziraphale!”
Was he mistaken, or did the demon actually sound a little put out there?
“Have you tried asking her nicely, my dear?” he chortled.
The demon let out a frustrated growl. Thankfully, the girl took this as a sign to release him, though not without first kissing him between his ears. Crowley landed on his side, flailed onto his feet, and sprinted out the window, nearly knocking Aziraphale over in the process.
At that moment, the curtain swung aside again. The angel quickly leaped away, though he lurked beneath the windowsill for a few moments longer.
“Darling, who are you…” The woman’s voice abruptly stopped, and he heard the smash of crockery on stone.
“Mummy! I feel so much better now! There were two kitties, and they saved me, and I think they were angels, Mummy! They were so soft and sweet and lovely and had the kindest eyes…”
Another sob rang out from the room, though he recognized that this was a sound of pure relief. Through the sobs, faint but still there, he heard a whispered, “Thank you, Lord.”
Now that all was well, Aziraphale decided to leave the little family behind. He moved into the street and started off in a random direction. Perhaps if he marked this down on his paperwork, Heaven wouldn’t question him on the miracles he’d forgotten about. He mused on the idea for a second. Then he became very, very aware that Crowley was glowering at him.
“Oh, cheer up, Crowley, she meant no harm.”
“Sod off.” The demon’s short fur was ruffled and his ears had gone out to the sides. “I’m a demon, we don’t do any of the…gratitude…business.” He stalked ahead of Aziraphale with an indignant flick of his tail.
“So why not do anything about it yourself? You have claws and teeth, and you’ve already bitten at least one person today. Or you could’ve turned back into a snake. Or perhaps caused her to trip. Any of those would have set you free, no doubt.” He sped up and headed Crowley off. “It’s like I always say, deep down, you’re-”
Crowley’s lips pulled back over his teeth. “Don’t.”
Aziraphale met his gaze and let the words go unsaid.
Then he heard a celebratory shout from another of the surrounding residences. A man was at the window, leaping for joy and clapping his hands.
“I’m cured, I’m cured, thank God! I’m cured!”
The angel blinked. Well, that was odd.
More and more people around them were taking up similar cries, until the very street itself seemed to be singing for joy.
“What do you suppose is going on?”
Crowley gave him a sidelong glance. “I think you might’ve overdone your miracle, angel.”
A stab of worry immediately bled through his good mood. “Oh dear. Did…I didn’t do the whole street, did I? Oh no.”
“Seems like it.”
Anxiety twisted his stomach into knots. He paced back and forth on the spot and began to babble. “I didn’t mean to, oh dear, I just wanted her to feel better. You don’t…oh, you don’t think I’ll get into trouble, do you? I mean, we’re technically not allowed to…well…if they’re…and so many at once…that’s a…it’s a big miracle, and…” He trailed off and looked up. The blue sky overhead suddenly looked very imposing.
However, this shift in mood seemed to fully snap Crowley out of his funk. “Like you said, her mother did ask. Can’t argue with prayer.” He shook himself and moved next to Aziraphale. “Sides, worst you’ll get is, what, a disapproving look? Gabriel wagging his finger at you?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
Crowley sat down in front of him and blocked his pacing. “Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Saving her. The child.”
He thought about her bright smile, her joyous laughter, her tight embrace around Crowley, her gentle fingers tangled in his fur. The worry eased slightly.
“Of course not, I merely-”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Crowley moved forward. His eyes gleamed like lanterns in the afternoon light. “She certainly appreciated it, anyway. Plus, I’m sure this means Mum and the rest of the street are squarely in Heaven’s corner. Head office can’t argue with results, can they?”
Aziraphale blinked.
Not only was Crowley comforting him, but he was also…congratulating him? On securing souls for Heaven? For basically thwarting him?
“I-I’m not sure what to say.”
Crowley shrugged. “Just pointing out the obvious, angel.”
“Still…” He paused. Had to choose his words carefully here, or he’d risk Crowley’s ire again. “I-I appreciate it very much.”
The demon snorted.
“I really do. Truly.”
Perhaps through instinct, or perhaps through feeling, Aziraphale moved forward and let his forehead rest gently against Crowley’s shoulder. He felt the demon tense for a moment, and then his thin face sank into Aziraphale’s thick white ruff. He could feel Crowley’s hot breath all the way through his undercoat, felt the slight poke of his dark whiskers, the creased fold of his batlike ear, the gentle flutter of his eyelids.
Unbidden, unexpectedly, the angel’s heart leaped within his chest and began to race.
Both angel and demon moved in sync, running their heads along the length of each other’s bodies. Aziraphale could feel the sinewy muscle beneath the demon’s sleek fur, could perhaps even make out the beat of his heart and the rush of his breath. He wondered, vaguely, if Crowley found his thick white coat unbearable, or if he enjoyed its softness. With the edge of his jaw, he traced the bumps of the demon’s spine all the way down to his tail. Crowley did the same, and the angel would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feeling of the demon’s face sliding gently down his back, parting his fur like the waters of the Red Sea. When the lengths of their bodies had been exhausted, they turned in tandem and let their foreheads meet in the middle. They rested there for a brief moment before Aziraphale slid his head to rest beneath Crowley’s chin. Behind them, Crowley’s reed of a tail wrapped gently around Aziraphale’s.
A million different questions, a million different thoughts, and a million different feelings spun through the angel’s head like a typhoon, even as his eyes drifted shut and his chest thrummed again. This was impossible, this was dangerous, this was stupid, this was madness, this was not how an agent of Heaven should behave toward an agent of Hell. Yet, they fit together so nicely, like two pieces of a puzzle, or two halves of a soul, and beneath everything…
No.
He must not.
He dared not.
Aziraphale was merely expressing his gratitude for the kind words spoken earlier. Yes, that was it exactly. Surely enemies could express gratitude to one another, right? Even if they were still technically enemies? It was no different from a handshake, really. Right. Yes. And that would explain the contented vibrations in his chest and all throughout his body. He was pleased to receive the kind words. Yes. Right. Absolutely. That. Nothing else.
But then, why was Crowley making the same hum, so loudly now that his very bones seemed to rattle with it?
An echo, perhaps? Or maybe he’d been trying to tempt the angel into something he shouldn’t do and succeeded. Or was equally grateful. All possible. Maybe. No, definitely. It was one of those. Had to be.
Aziraphale broke contact and moved about a foot away. He cleared his throat and said, “I, uh, I think…I think we’d best get a move on.”
Crowley stared at him for a long moment. It occurred then to the angel that this was possibly the longest the demon had gone without any sort of eye covering for at least a few centuries. He could see the different shades of yellow and gold in the demon’s irises; the way the slit pupils flexed in the light; all the bends and whorls and imperfections.
A demon really shouldn’t have such wonderfully beautiful eyes.
“Right. Yeah.” Crowley’s voice was soft. He seemed as lost in thought as Aziraphale had been. He titled his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he turned away. Aziraphale tried to ignore the sudden heaviness in his chest as Crowley walked onward without him.
The demon turned back and flicked an ear. “Coming, angel?”
He moved to catch up, trying not to look too relieved. “Where are we going?”
Crowley nodded at something above them. That something turned out to be one of the turrets set into Antioch’s outer wall. A spindly wooden scaffold rose about halfway up, leading to a door that presumably led to the top of the tower.
“Bet there’s a good view up there.”
With that, they walked to the tower together. Shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank. Just two street cats meandering through the city together. Aziraphale did his best to keep at least a little space between them, though he was vaguely aware that his tail had arched over the demon’s back, and Crowley’s likewise arched over his own. It also didn’t help that Crowley swayed with every step he took, which bumped their hips back and forth. Really, how could he get anywhere with that serpentine walk of his?
About an hour later, they had scaled the scaffold, climbed a spiral staircase, and reached the top of the tower. Crowley lengthened his stride and moved ahead. His body rippled, almost like it was surrounded by a heat wave, and the demon’s shape changed. In an instant, he’d reared up, stretched, and become the lanky redhead Aziraphale knew best.
The demon had once again changed his apparel. He was dressed in a black gown that reached all the way to his feet, which were clad in simple dark slippers. The gown was cinched at the waist by a length of red satin tied into a bow at the base of his spine. His red hair reached down to the middle of his back; part of it had been pulled back and clipped into place at the back of his neck with a silver clasp in the shape of snake’s head. A circlet of silver leaves rested atop his head. It looked similar to the laurel he’d worn back in Roman times, though these leaves were smaller and more finely wrought.
Aziraphale swallowed and willed himself back into human form. The change happened quickly, and he moved to stand beside Crowley, dusting off his tunic and clearing his throat. For a moment, they stood in silence.
As Crowley had guessed, the view from atop the tower was incredible. At this point, the sun had begun to descend, casting beams of orange light around the distant mountain range and long shadows over the trees. The ancient road curved through the greenery like a brown snake, twisting off into the far distance. Far off in the distance, glimmering faintly in the light, was the Mediterranean Sea, vast and fathomless. The Orontes River linked the city to the sea, its silvery waters rushing and whispering all around them, carving out valleys where it crossed the land.
“You know…” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale turned to look at him. He had a wire-rimmed pair of sunglasses on, but the angel could still see the gold of his eyes in profile like this. A red jewel hung from the circlet on his brow, perfectly matching the red of his lips and the soft touch of rouge on his cheeks. The demon looked for all the world like a princess waiting on the balcony for her knight in shining armor.
That was a thought Aziraphale quickly banished into the recesses of his mind.
“…I don’t like transforming like that. Changing shape. It’s…”
Aziraphale waited, but Crowley didn’t finish the thought. “Why not?” he asked. “It does seem to be useful. Sometimes, anyway.”
Crowley turned to look at him. The sunlight caught the gold in his eyes and set them alight. “I, uh, I worry that I won’t remember what…what I looked like before I changed.” He gestured to himself with a flap of his hand. “I like the way I look, you know. But, I mean, it’s easy to forget…when you…well…” He averted his gaze.
The words almost left Aziraphale’s mouth unbidden; that he would remember how the demon looked no matter what, as surely as he remembered how the universe began and how warm God’s love felt, and he would remember as the world fell into fire and chaos at the End of Time, so Crowley needn’t worry about all that. He managed to bite them back and pushed those thoughts away as well, doing his best to ignore just what they meant. Instead, he asked, “Then why change at all? Surely it wasn’t just for my sake.”
Crowley didn’t respond. He clasped his hands in front of him and shifted slightly.
“Oh…I, uh, oh. My goodness.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” the demon teased, and lightly bumped Aziraphale’s shoulder with his own. “Just holding up my part of the Arrangement.”
“I don’t see how any of that was part of the Arrangement whatsoever.”
Crowley laughed gently. “Maybe not. But it’s all so ineffable, isn’t it?” He laughed again when the angel sighed and shook his head.
Together, they watched as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the first stars flecked the darkening sky. Torches winked to life on the road below and in the encampment surrounding the city. A bird winged its way overhead, snatches of its song drifting down to the pair below as it made its way home.
Then Aziraphale spoke, almost without thinking.
“You still, ah, look very nice to me. Like yourself, I mean.”
He felt his face flush with embarrassment, which only intensified when Crowley quirked an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Aziraphale looked away and cleared his throat again.
“You flatter me, angel,” was his response in the end.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind them. Both turned around to see a young guard walking toward them from the entrance to the spiral staircase. He had a torch in one hand and let the other rest on the haft of his sword.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said by way of greeting, “but I’m afraid you and your lady wife cannot be up here. I must escort you back to the city.” He turned and gestured to his shoulder. “Please follow me, and I’ll forget I saw you.”
“Oh he’s not-I mean she’s not-we’re not-it’s not like that!” Aziraphale spluttered.
Crowley laughed again. He reached out, linked his arm with Aziraphale’s, and drew closer to him. “C’mon then, dear husband,” he said, “let’s follow the man before we get into trouble.” The demon winked and grinned widely.
If the angel blushed any harder, he was fairly certain he would be red-faced for the rest of time. Without a word, he followed after the guard, feet moving automatically, all attention focused on the small bit of contact between himself and the demon, on the words that had just come out of Crowley’s mouth.
These also joined the rest of the thoughts he’d had today in mental purgatory, which was quickly becoming quite populous.
“Now,” Crowley said as they walked, “I’m sure a fine man such as yourself would know a place where a newly wed couple can enjoy a few drinks together? We’ve just come to this city, you know, and are still getting the lay of the land.” He batted his eyelashes at the youth when he turned to look at him.
The twisting, ugly feeling that shot through Aziraphale when the youth blushed and looked away was also quickly shoved away, though he could still feel it in the tightness of his throat and the sudden heat of annoyance in his stomach. Crowley was a demon and he tempted people to get what he wanted. That was all. No need to get upset. No need whatsoever.
“There is an establishment where we city guards frequent,” the youth said. “I’m sure two nobles like yourselves would find it beneath you, though.”
“As long as the wine is good, I don’t particularly care,” said Crowley. “The company is what matters.”
At this rate, the spot in the back of Aziraphale’s mind where all the thoughts that didn’t bear thinking about would have to put up a No Vacancy sign with how occupied it was.
But it was true, wasn’t it? Though the world was changing, and would forever change, they had found an anchor in each other; the only celestial beings who had been on Earth since the Beginning. As they walked, the chaos of the day’s events already seemed to fade into distant memory, another day in the thousands upon thousands they had shared, often together, more often apart, as they worked on the whims of their masters Above and Below. In Crowley, Aziraphale had a constant companion, a safe haven, perhaps even a friend.
Though the angel would do his damnedest not to admit that. Ever.