Chapter Text
Life was good. Really, surprisingly good. Anthony had people to look out for, who cared about him in return. He had the Bentley and his shop. He had even started building a garden on the roof.
All things considered, it was a better existence than he ever thought he’d be allowed.
Not that it was perfect. He still kept finding things that scraped painfully against the memories he had discarded. It hurt every time, like the backlash of the emotions he was avoiding were taking a physical toll on him. It was still better than the alternative, so he accepted it as a fact of his current state of being.
Unfortunately, there was one other dark cloud on his otherwise sunny corporality. He was still being watched by angels.
After the incident at the church, he made a habit of scanning his surroundings regularly. The problem was there were a lot of people in London. His little corner of Soho tended to be bustling and though human souls felt nothing like angelic or demonic beings, they generated a lot of resonance that took effort to sort through.
The next time he managed to sense an unknown angel was a few weeks after the trip to St. Paul’s. He had coaxed Muriel out to a cliffside by the sea so they could stretch their wings.
After several hours of riding the warm air currents, Muriel had shouted they should race before diving back towards the turn out where they had parked the Bentley. She had touched down first, due to her head start. Anthony hadn’t quite managed to make up the difference and landed just barely after her. They had both hit the ground heavily with too much leftover momentum causing them to end up in a heap on the ground. It was in that moment, while they were leaning against each other and laughing with joy and adrenaline fueled excitement, that Anthony opened his senses and felt another presence.
They were far away on the beach below them. He didn’t bother looking around. It was enough to have confirmation that the surveillance was ongoing.
The next time he picked up on a tail occurred while they were visiting Kew Gardens. This time, Anthony had split off from Muriel to gauge which one of them specifically was being followed. There was always the possibility that Heaven was trying to contact her outside of the demon owned bookshop where she spent the majority of her time.
It was almost a relief when he sensed the unknown ethereal presence trailing in his wake. Heaven’s interest was either in him specifically, or possibly in the influence he might be having on their earthly representative. Neither was ideal, but it could have been worse.
As before, he avoided tipping his hand, simply joining back up with Muriel who insisted on stopping every few minutes to take more pictures with her newly acquired phone.
Anthony had every intention of continuing the discrete cat and mouse game he had started, but their next outing went so badly that it took him nearly a month to recover.
Meanwhile in Heaven…
“Supreme Archangel?”
Aziraphale’s mind had been wandering. Even as he snapped back to the present, he couldn’t have said exactly what he’d been thinking about. Which wasn’t ideal. He didn’t really have time to spare woolgathering.
He turned from where he had been gazing out at the simulated view to find the angel he had assigned to surveillance.
“Something’s happened.” It wasn’t a question so Aziraphale didn’t phrase it as one. In an attempt to draw as little attention as possible, he had requested to only be updated if something of note had occurred. He had to assume that was the case now. “Did the demon sense your presence again?”
“No. I don’t believe so.”
That didn’t mean much. Crowley had been extremely cunning. Even with a large chunk of missing memories, Aziraphale had to assume that Anthony still was. “Make your report.” He hoped the weariness he suddenly felt pressing down on him wasn’t obvious in his voice or expression.
“The demon took Muriel to the edge of the ocean a week ago.”
“Why?” He asked, even as his mind supplied ‘picnic’ and he desperately tried not to feel sick about the possibility.
“They, uh… went flying?”
Was that better or worse? He wasn’t sure how to feel, but he knew this wasn’t the time to figure it out; not while he was being observed. “I have to assume nothing exceptional happened, since you waited to report until now.”
“They landed rather hard at the end, but neither appeared to be hurt. I think they might have been playing some sort of game? I heard laughter from both of them afterwards.”
How long had it been since Aziraphale had heard that sound–the joy of his friend made audible. He pushed the sudden painful longing away. “What else?” He really wasn’t all that interested in hearing details about how well Anthony was getting along with his replacement.
“They visited Kew Gardens four days ago. They split up and traveled separately for nearly an hour before joining up again. Muriel appears to have a human device now, the ones they use for communication. She tells the demon to smile at it a lot.”
Muriel had a cellular telephone and she was taking pictures of Anthony. Pictures with phones had been something Crowley had claimed credit for. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. He shouldn’t be feeling jealous of a 37th level scrivener just because she was able to spend time with Anthony, take pictures of him and make him laugh whenever she wanted.
“Is the demon trying to corrupt Muriel?”
Belatedly, Aziraphale realized he’d been quiet for too long and left an opening. “No.” He gave a firm denial that left no room for doubt. He would have felt better about his answer if he was actually sure it was true. Crowley never would have done more than ask questions and let an angel choose for themselves, Aziraphale would have staked his life on it. But he had no way to gauge how much of himself Anthony had decided to forget. Surely if he had wiped away everything that was good and kind, Nina and Maggie would not have defended him so fiercely. “Have you seen any signs that she’s being led astray?”
“No.”
“Metatron assigned her the post. We must trust in the plan.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth but he managed not to grimace around them. “What happened today?” Because something had to have happened in order to warrant this interaction and he desperately wanted to get this interaction over with.
“I’m… not entirely sure?”
Aziraphale kept a stern gaze on the messenger, waiting for the explanation instead of trying to coax it out.
“Muriel and the demon were visiting a park and he collapsed.”
Despite the fact that Aziraphale hadn’t been engaging the more human aspects of his corporation while in Heaven, his heart still stuttered wretchedly in his chest. “Did he recover?” It felt like someone else was asking that question from very far away. At least the shock had left him sounding detached instead of betraying how affected he truly was.
“Not that I was able to determine. As far as I could tell, he was unconscious and unable to be revived. Muriel used a miracle to transport them both away.”
Unconscious. He swallowed hard, then cleared his throat, trying to remember how words worked even as his mind was racing furiously. What could knock a demon out cold? Particularly this specific, powerful, former demon? And accomplish it without also discorporating him. “Where did this happen?”
“Battersea Park.”
The bandstand! For a moment it felt like the whole room swayed beneath his feet. Aziraphale braced one hand against his desk to try to keep his bearings. “Where in Battersea Park?”
"Near the center. They had just rounded a corner in the path near the big fancy gazebo structure."
“The bandstand, not the pagoda?” Aziraphale asked, keeping his voice neutral even as his emotions were going into overdrive. The bandstand had been the site of one of their worst fights, back when they thought the world was ending.
“Yes. The bandstand.”
Which meant that Anthony, who should not remember the significance of that place, had passed out straight away at the sight of it. Was it possible the demon had started to remember what they meant to each other? Was he starting to remember Aziraphale?