Chapter Text
It starts, as it will end, in a garden.
This was a bit of an oversimplification of course, but what is a library if not a garden, revisited? Its bark found again in the varnished polish of bookshelves, its leaves still delicate and beautiful, still flowering and producing bounty, knowledge a sustenance all its own. Furthermore, this isn’t yet the ending, in fact, it’s as good a place as any for another beginning.
Crowley leafed through one of these books with a practiced, and now vestigial, indifference. For all his natural curiosity might usually tempt him into at least a look at the volume in his hand, his mind was thoroughly otherwise occupied. This often was the case when he found himself in his angel’s bookshop.
“Not mine, not anymore”, he muttered to remind himself, although it didn’t seem to help much. It hadn’t, in reality, ever done much, but habits are hard to break, ‘specially if they happen to be attached to some uncomfortable truths about one’s inner psyche.
All of this self-flagellation didn’t change the fact that the demon was still standing in the middle of a closed, empty bookshop in West End. He could fancy himself some noble dogooder for this, if Crowley was prone to such things. Lately however, he didn’t seem to be into much of anything besides seeing the bottom of a bottle of the cheapest beer SoHo could reliably supply. The angel Muriel had promised, of course, to look after this bookshop in a certain angel’s absence, but that hadn’t lasted. In fact, Muriel found themselves quickly appointed with a much more important duty than book-sitting.
And what, you might question, could possibly be more important than the upkeep of A. Z. Fell’s? Crowley would never admit an honest answer to such a question if prompted, much preferring to sulk and grumble, but his first instinct would, in this case, be the correct one. This answer is clear to me, but I’m the only one who can see the library for the trees, so to speak, so let me be more clear.
Aziraphale paced. His shoes, less polished and shiny than any other angel would be caught dead in, clicked and clacked against the smooth marble flooring of heaven. He was sweating in his three piece suit, which shouldn’t have been possible, considering the seraphic perfection of heaven’s air conditioning. Unfortunately, his body, although now angelic, had spent quite long being firmly fleshly, and remembered it too fondly to be easily swayed.
Pulling out a moisture wicking handkerchief from a pocket that surely hadn’t existed a moment ago, Aziraphale dabbed at his forehead as he spoke.
“The list Muriel, is there anything else we can think to add to it? Just, you know, foolproofing and all that.” He sounded nervous, which wasn’t a new quality for his voice, but now, perhaps more than ever, it was justified. I indeed, may be uniquely qualified to corroborate his anxiety. Planning a second coming isn’t easy.
Muriel just stood out of the angel’s way, more in the middle of the room, if it could be described as such, seeing as this room, as with all others in heaven, was decently endless. They grinned.
“I believe we’re just about there, the list could wrap around earth a couple of times now, so I think things are tied up, securely even!”
Those couple of weeks in the bookshop alone had inspired a newfound love in metaphor, simile, and all manner of sayings. Aziraphale had learned to tune it out early, or at least, pretend it didn’t make him miss the bookshop too unbearably. He knew however, that talking to Muriel was rather like wading through a river, best to push yourself in when the current lessens, even briefly.
“Yes! Yes that’s all well and good then. And Jesus, is he…ready? Earth can be overwhelming for those not properly initiated, as you surely remember.” Aziraphale chuckled at what he perceived to be quite a clever little quip, perhaps playing on his extensive knowledge of the planet below. Just as quickly as he started he trailed off though, the other memories that wanted to poke their heads in too much to handle, just as they continually had been since he was last down on earth.
0-2 is the score we find ourselves with regarding emotional recognition and acknowledgement from our two hurting celestial protagonists. If you however, dear reader, knew these two as well as I do, you might’ve known to expect this. Aziraphale and Crowley; stubborn isn’t a word, it’s a philosophy.
That’s as much of an introduction as I’d like to think anybody might need to this particular tale, and so, with the aid of divine insight, we’ll clue back into Muriel’s response to the tired and overburdened angel of this and every other hour.
“Yes Sir Supreme Archangel Aziraphale…Sir!” Muriel still hadn’t gotten a firm grasp on all that title business, but they figured the more the merrier, another useful phrase they had learned was commonly used during something called a Christmas. “Jesus, oh yes! Yes he’s around here somewhere I’m sure! Last I saw he was looking very comfortable and very nicely human in that outfit you devised.” If Aziraphale had stopped pacing for even an instant, this might’ve been a time for comradery, commiseration, or a jovial elbow nudge at the very least. Regardless to say, the moment passed without incident.
“Around here that’s, well that’s a little vague my dear, is Sandalphon not with him?” Aziraphale enquired, gaze still turned towards the globe projection wistfully, attention split.
Muriel cocked their head to the side, looking remarkably like an owl, despite likely never having even heard of such a creature. “Sandalphon’s busy!” They answered, oblivious, as always, to the alarms that phrase might set off in the mind of a Supreme Archangel who really, really was hoping everything was going to plan.
“I’m sorry?” Retorted Aziraphale, head and attention swiveling sharply to land upon the other angel. His tone was still a semblance of calm, but his face was twisting in a way that, if a certain demon was here, might be described as his ‘I’m clearly fussy because something isn’t going my way, but of course I think I can completely handle it’ face.
All this, though, slipped by Muriel with no more than a passive thought towards if Archangels ever get bored with having to be so uptight all the time. Their face twisted into something almost painfully sincere and more than a little sympathetic as they responded. “Oh no, no don’t be sorry it’s ok! He’s been using The Suggestion Box for the last…while?”
While Aziraphale started to truly and fully panic, let us take a brief aside to look into the history of The Suggestion Box. It was the first in a series of sentimental, and frankly, uninformed policy decisions made by one Aziraphale to, and I quote directly from the principality himself; “Liven up the place!” Now, if you ask me, the only being that might truly appreciate such a simple implementation would be of the questioning variety, someone who, during his time in heaven, was synonymous with creation, with change even; someone who was, if memory serves, currently drinking himself into a stupor in the aforementioned bookshop.
Needless to say, if things in heaven could collect dust, The Suggestion Box would be foremost in its field. Or, that was the case, right up until all of the second coming business started to sound a whole lot different than normal. “Joy unbounded, peace on earth, and all that good stuff.” Well, that sounded like a whole lot of nothing. Especially to an astonishing amount of bloodthirsty angels. Angels who, clearly, never learned the difference between constructive criticism and just plain whinging.
Informed as we now are, it shouldn’t surprise to know that, upon receiving the command to look after Jesus and go down with him to earth when he’s ready to deliver his message of world peace, Sandalphon didn’t exactly perform his duties as hoped. Instead, he grumbled something vaguely threatening to nobody in particular before stalking away and, if you must know, returning right back to The Suggestion Box to continue miracling up slips of paper and shoving them in with all the force of a smiting and none of the consequence. “War”, “War Now”, and even the rare “Destruction of Human and Demonkind alike”, were all familiar sights, although I’m fairly confident Micheal had a hand in ghostwriting that last one.
He liked to think of himself as a decent leader, Aziraphale did. He had sure felt like one as he spoke to the hastily assembled grouping of angels around him. Sandalphon himself was noticeably absent, but seeing as Aziraphale wanted to maintain his tentative air of confidence and generally having things under control, it probably was for the best.
“So really? No one’s seen a single sight of the boy? That just seems-,” Aziraphale cut himself off with another thought. “Archangels? The rest of you I mean, surely one of you’s seen him?”
They all stood in a line to his left and seemed frankly offended at being addressed at all. Uriel spoke up, calm voice clipped and to the point, although no less distasteful for it. “Didn’t you leave him with Sandalphon?” He sneered. “S’ not what I would’ve done, that’s for certain.” The rest nodded their agreement, still just as haughty as they’ve been from the start. Uriel’s statement couldn’t have been further from the truth, but before Aziraphale had the chance to even think about forming a rebuttal, Muriel popped back up by his side.
“Sir Supreme Archangel Azira-,” Muriel began to recite dutifully, but was cut off quickly with an exclamation and accompanying stomp of annoyance.
“Out with it!” Aziraphale snapped and regretted just as quickly as he watched their face fall. “I meant to say,” He amended, “What did you come to tell me? Have we found him?”
On account of Supreme Archangel Aziraphale’s out of character outburst, all eyes were on the pair as Muriel spoke excitedly. “We’ve narrowed it down, which I think is good! A little birdie told me he isn’t in either heaven or hell, which of course means-,”
Aziraphale exhales. “He’s on earth.”
“Exactly! Wow, you’re so smart! It makes sense that you’re the new Supreme Archangel cause just, wow. Also it wasn’t actually a bird that told me, I was just collecting reports from everyone, but isn’t that such a fun phrase? Really a…” Muriel continued from there, but what they said frankly wasn’t that important to our tale. Aziraphale’s mind was already racing past all of that, and had reached the uncomfortable conclusion that we’ll soon be privy to by the time he raised his voice again.
“How many of you know what Jesus looks like now? In his new form?” Thankfully Aziraphale had already taught ‘raising your hand’ to the majority of the heavenly host, and was briefly filled with hope as he saw a good third do just that. “Oh excellent, that’s just wonderful! Now, how many of you have been to earth?” A few hands stayed up, Muriel and the Archangels chief amoung them. He pushed forward. “…for more than a day?”
Muriel. The only one with their hand still up was Muriel. The rest seemed to have the wherewithal to be embarrassed at least and right as they should be, for, in that exact moment, Aziraphale’s worst nightmare was made reality.
He was going to have to go back to Earth.