Chapter Text
It was a beautiful afternoon in autumn. There had been a lot of rain lately. But today the sun was going all out. It brought not only light but also some very welcome warmth in through the windows of A.Z. Fell and Co. Aziraphale gazed at his favourite chair and took a deep breath. Just the right amount of sunlight was falling on it. He knew it would be utterly sublime to spend at least a few hours reading in it.
If only there hadn’t been that call a few days ago, from an English literature professor he was acquainted with. He had asked Aziraphale if he might be allowed to bring some of his best students to the bookshop. He wanted them to look at some of Mr. Fell’s more interesting old editions, and perhaps even a first edition or two? So that his students might learn the value of these. Gain some understanding of the craft involved in this age of mass-produced paperbacks. Or, Aziraphale thought with a shudder, digital books.
He understood the convenience of them, but didn’t see the appeal. Reading a book was so much more than words on paper. It was the weight of the book in your hands. The smell of the paper and the printing ink. The sound the pages made when you turned them. Humans grew up with all these new-fangled devices these days. They would forget or never even learn of these pleasures. If it weren’t for people like him or Professor Foster, at least. And what a tragedy that would be! So of course he had agreed.
Despite all these wonderful intentions, he now wished he hadn’t agreed. There were rather more people than usual about on the streets today. There were also rather more people than usual in his shop. On some days, he enjoyed talking to customers and finding the right books for them (i.e. those he didn’t mind parting with). He loved talking about books and their authors. Their history and all their different editions. And he relished the hunt for specific editions on the market, the joy of the find itself. But what he loved the most, what he delighted in, was the pleasure of holding these books and all the sensations that reading them would bring.
He let out a soft sigh. Today, he truly would have preferred his privacy after all. To be able to enjoy the day any way he liked. But he had made a promise, and he made it a point to always keep his promises.
And so he watched the young students mill about and discover some of their favourite classical authors on his shelves. To be honest, that was a delight. But a different kind than the one he would have liked right now.
“Oh, Mr. Fell,” Professor Foster said as he walked towards him, his face lit with a smile. “Your shop is a downright marvel!”
“How very kind of you to say.” Aziraphale returned the smile, drawing himself up a little straighter. It always did him good to hear someone praise his shop.
“And thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy day to show my students around. And to explain to them what makes those old, dusty first editions so special and worth searching for. These days, I can be lucky if my students have ever held a hardback.”
“Oh, that is quite alright. No need to thank me. These young people were very interested to learn. That makes teaching them quite rewarding, doesn’t it?“ Aziraphale said.
“That is quite true. It’s what keeps me teaching.” Professor Foster turned to his students. “Come on then, we have to return to Oxford. And, I’m sure, Mr. Fell has more business to attend to as well.“
Aziraphale led the group to the door while the students thanked him again. “Ah, it was my pleasure. Take care now!”
He sighed as the door closed. There were still people in his shop. But no more than a few. Shouldn‘t be too much of a problem to gently influence them to finish up. He might not even need a miracle for it. If all else failed, he could say he was closing early today. That always worked.
So he set about trying to help the remaining browsing customers. An “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I don’t have that one in stock. But I could try to get it for you…?” here. A “What an excellent choice. To my knowledge, only about two dozen of these specific editions remain. I’ve set the price at £525.” there. And even a quick sale of one of the few regular paperback novels he kept in his shop. And then there was silence.
Wait, no. Almost silence. In the current stillness, he could make out footsteps further in the back of the shop. He turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ to dissuade any other customer from entering his shop. Then he went in search of the owner of said footsteps.
He knew it wouldn’t be Crowley, though he had called earlier to say he would come by later today. Like most days since Armageddon didn’t happen. But he would’ve felt his presence. Besides, the demon had a tendency to make sure Aziraphale knew he was there.
Between the shelves in the back of the shop where he kept his more… obscure titles, he saw a woman. Dark hair, neither tall nor short, young. She looked like every other student to him. He had seen her earlier, drifting around the shelves. At the time, he had assumed she had entered with the professor and not thought of it any further. But it appeared that he had been mistaken.
There was a piece of paper in her hand.
“Miss?”
The young woman gasped as her eyes shot over to him.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you”, he said with a gentle smile. “I was about to close the shop for today when I noticed you back here. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Oh, ah… I’m sorry. I was… I, uhm…“ she sighed, deep and low. Her shoulders slumped as she crumpled the piece of paper in her hand. Her knuckles had turned white around it, and clutched it to her chest. “I don’t think you can. I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.” With brisk steps, the young woman strode towards the door.
“Wait, Miss!” Aziraphale called out and stepped into her path. “Please wait. Whether I can help you or not is as yet undetermined. I am sure it couldn’t hurt if I were to have a look at that list…?”
Her distress was palpable. Whatever she was on about, she was no normal customer and certainly in need of some guidance. Guiding the nations of the world had been part of his job description. He should be able to help her.
She gazed up at him, flinched, and looked at the door again. But she didn’t try to move past him. “I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I offered, after all.” Aziraphale held out his hand to her, palm up. “Would you allow me to see that list of yours, Miss?”
She hesitated. “It, uhm… It’s a bit… strange.”
He smiled kindly. “I have seen a number of strange requests. You’ll find there is very little that still shocks me.”
Her tension lessened to a degree, her knuckles weren’t white any more now. She glanced at the piece of paper clutched in them, at the door, then at him. “It’s just… I’ve already been through all the libraries I could reach. And I’ve been laughed out of many bookshops now… No one has what I’m looking for.”
“I specialise in rare editions of prophecies. In some circles, that does raise an eyebrow or two. But it is an interest of mine. One should not need to explain why one indulges in their interests, don’t you agree?” With great patience, he still held out his hand to her, waiting for her to give in. She wanted to.
“I’m… uhm, writing a paper on a weird subject. I’m interested in literature and… mythology, and thought to combine the two? I’ve already been through some of the more… ah, conventional titles. Now I am only looking for a few more to be able to complete my paper. But no one seems to be able to help me with these…” Finally, she cringed and looked away but handed him the slip of paper. Patience was a virtue and a useful one to have at times.
Aziraphale took the list in hand and… Oh, my. Those were indeed unusual titles. Not what he had expected. They were old and obscure, yes. They were also books on demonology, every single one of them. Some of which were said to only exist in fiction. He knew better. While some of the titles on her list had indeed never existed, others did. And they contained enough truth to make them perilous to humans. He had three copies of the ‘Necronomicon’ and one of ‘Ars Goetia’, locked up in a safe and warded to boot. Both of which were on her list. He made it a point to try and buy up all these dangerous tomes.
These books had been created with demonic influence. To tempt humans to try and use the incantations and sell their souls to Hell. Or do even more damage than that. They had been among Hell’s cleverer ideas.
He had tried to explain to head office the need to send out angels on a mission to hunt those books down. But they had not agreed with his assessment of the situation. Instead, they had emphasised the importance of free will. And that this included the means to condemn themselves and others.
“This is an unusual list,” he said, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. “I do not think I have any of them in stock and if I can get them, they would be quite expensive. Are you certain you need these specific titles? I think I have Alistair Crowley’s modern version of ‘Ars Goetia’ ‘The Book of Goetia’ here somewhere. It is only a 2010 reprint of the 1903 edition and much more affordable.”
‘And safe,’ he thought.
But the young woman deflated. “No, I’m afraid I already have that one and it is… Not very close to the original text,” he said, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eyes.
“If you need something with more literary value, I have a copy of ‘Dæmonologie’ by King James VI. This is the original edition of 1597 when he was still King of Scotland and thus quite priceless. But I would be willing to let you study it here.”
Another safe tome. But she shook her head in frustration.
“No, I’ve already read a version of this at a library.” She sighed with a bitter smile. “See, I told you I’d be wasting your time. I’m sorry.” With that, she took her list back and made to leave again.
Aziraphale’s gut twisted and a cold shiver running down his back. He had a very bad feeling about this. And he knew he couldn’t let her go like this. He had to act now.
“Please wait, Miss. I could still be of help.” Good. She turned back around with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Now he just had to come up with something to satisfy her. Very fast.
Unfortunately, the only thing he could come up with was: “I might be able to get two of those titles. You wouldn’t be able to take them with you, of course. But you could read them here. Would that be suitable?”
“Uhm… yes. That would be wonderful, actually,” she said, her voice quiet and wavering.
“Ah, excellent. If you could leave that list then and add your contact information onto it? That would be marvellous.” He handed her a pen that had not been in his pocket a moment ago. But he could not be bothered with such mundane tasks right now. He was busy smiling and being as congenial and comforting as always. All while his mind was furiously trying to think of a way to fix this situation. A situation that he may have made worse by trying to fix it in the first place.
“This is very kind,” the young lady was saying. “You are the first person to take my request seriously, Mister…”
“Fell. Mr. Fell.” He heard the door open then, he didn’t need to look up to see that Crowley had come. “And not to worry, these are the things we small bookshop owners excel at.”
With the faintest of smiles, she handed him the slip of paper and headed towards the door. And hardly even glancing at Crowley, who was doing a very bad job of pretending to browse the shelves. Aziraphale said goodbye and locked the door behind her. He was yearning for a heavy sigh, to lean his forehead against the door and rest for a minute. But that simply wouldn’t do.
“Unusual visitor.”
Of course, Crowley had picked up on it. He could ask Crowley for help, of course. He would love his help. But he would rather not admit to the mess he had made of this. Crowley would never let him live it down, he was certain. The fiend would bring it up time and time again to tease him. “Hey, angel. You remember that time when you inadvertently promised to teach a young woman how to summon demons to do her bidding?” No, that simply wouldn’t do either. So he slipped the list into his pocket, smiled in a way that felt normal, and went about tidying up.
“You think so? It seems even the young ones can be interested in dusty old books. Isn’t that something? Makes one hopeful for the future, doesn’t it? The young people not forgetting their roots, that sort of thing.”
Crowley took off his glasses with a sigh and placed them on the little horse statue he liked to put them on.
“Uh huh,” the demon said flatly.
Aziraphale would have sworn he could feel Crowley lift his eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong, angel?”
“Nothing is wrong. Whatever do you mean? Everything is just…” Marvellous? Brilliant? Wonderful? No, that felt like overcompensating. He finally settled for: “fine.” He cringed when even he could hear his voice lift and waver a tad. But he didn’t see Crowley’s reaction. He never looked at him once. He was too busy reshelving books.
“That’s bollocks and you know it. You never were any good at lying.”
“I was good enough at it when it mattered,” Aziraphale said, thinking about Job. Oh, and what was Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ doing here? Standing next to ‘Mrs. Beeton’s Book on Household Management’? It should have been… Ah, right. Way over there on the other side of the shop.
He took it off the shelf and was walking over to the correct one, when Crowley stepped into his path. He took the book off his hands, glanced at the title, went straight over and slipped it into the correct place. Then his yellow eyes were back on him, pinning him.
“Sit. Talk.” Crowley pointed at his favourite chair.
“Really, Crowley. It’s alright. I can-”
A firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards his chair: “Sit, angel. Talk.”
Aziraphale sighed and sat down. It might be better this way. They were usually rather good at dealing with problems like these together, weren’t they?
“It’s a bit of a mess.”
“Yeah, I was getting that from-” he gestured at Aziraphale and the shop in general, “this. It’s not Upstairs or Downstairs, is it? Wasn’t getting anything off of her…”
“No, no, no. Nothing like that.”
“Well, can’t be that bad, then. Talk.”
“Oh, alright.” He cleared his throat. “That young woman was looking for a few books she hasn’t been able to find. She said she needs them for a paper she is writing.”
“Okay,” Crowley said, sprawling all over his couch. “Go on.”
“Her list was… unusual.”
“Must’ve been if she couldn’t find the titles anywhere else.”
Aziraphale sat up a little straighter. “My collection isn’t strange.”
“Never said it was, angel,” Crowley said with a huff. “But what would a student be looking for here that she couldn’t find in a library? You’re stalling. Get on with it.”
Aziraphale took the list back out of his pocket, straightened it out and handed it to Crowley. His eyes slid over to the window and he sighed. That perfect sunbeam to read in was long gone by now.
Crowley let out a whistle. “Yeah, alright. She’d get in trouble with these. Direct route to a miserable eternity, I’d say.”
“Uh-huh.” The angel nodded in agreement. He felt Crowley’s gaze again, it was even more intense than before. Still, he kept his face calm. Or what he thought must look calm. And continued looking outside. Then at his desk. And his vest. Oh, there was a button coming loose. He would have to remember to fix that later.
He heard a rustling. A glance confirmed that Crowley had sat up straight. “What did you do, angel?”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale lifted his eyebrows at Crowley.
“Stop hedging. We both know, you wouldn’t have let her leave without attempting to save her somehow. That little pout right there means you want my help. And the way you are attempting to avoid telling me, says very clearly that whatever you tried didn’t go well. And you are too embarrassed to fess up to whatever it was you believe you messed up.”
Aziraphale watched the demon, his friend, for 6000 years and more. He was both annoyed that he couldn’t keep anything from him and… well… happy that Crowley knew him so well. It didn’t make any sense to try to keep his blunder a secret from him any longer. And he had been right, of course. Aziraphale would love his help with the matter.
“I may have told her that I’m able to get some of those titles, and she could read them here,” he mumbled. Twisting the ring on his little finger around and around.
The demon's eyebrows went all the way up. “You what?”
“I told her she could read some of them here!” He wrung his hands together. “She was going to leave! And then I wouldn’t have been able to help her. I didn’t have much time to come up with something. This was the only way I could think of to get her contact information, at least. And maybe talk to her some more. To find out what she truly wants them for. She didn’t seem evil, merely…despairing. Forlorn. And there are more people out there who know enough about summoning to get someone into real trouble. What if she’d get mixed up with some of those? Or a… a cult of some kind?”
The sudden quiet after his outburst felt heavy. He knew Crowley would help him. He always did. Not without poking fun at him or telling him when he’d been a fool. But without making him feel small and stupid.
Crowley rubbed his hands roughly over his face and growled from deep within his throat. “Okay. Alright. I’m sure we can fix this,” he finally said. And then added a grumbled: “Somehow.”
He pointed to the back wall of the shop. “You have a computer back there, right? I’m afraid to ask: Does it have internet access?”
“Oh, no. I bought it back in 1985, you see. No one had internet access back then. And I never had the need for something fancier. It is perfectly serviceable.” Aziraphale got up and tugged at his vest to lay it straight. “Shall I show you?”
“We’re gonna need internet access to look this girl up, angel. We’ll use my phone. But first things first. This situation calls for some wine. So, you go get us some and I’ll get started with searching.”
Crowley had spotted the girl's name on the back of the list. His mobile phone already in hand, he began typing things into it.
Aziraphale swallowed a little wistful sigh before it could escape. The demon was a sight to behold when he was so fiercely determined and invested into helping him. It might even make up for any possible fun Crowley might have on his behalf in the future.
Now that they were working on this together it would all turn out well, he was certain. Aziraphale smiled to himself and went to get the wine.