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Dr Fell pulled his van up to the dockside and stepped into the morning mist, scanning the beach for the stranded sea-lion that had been reported.
Apart from the constant susurration of the lapping tide, the beach was silent and certainly devoid of any tell-tale barks.
A single wet track cut through the sand, leading toward the rocks at the far end of the cove.
As he neared the tall rocks, he became more and more worried that he might already be too late. "Hello?" he called out, trying to rouse the creature and warn it of his approach.
There was no sound, only the crashing of waves and the call of seagulls.
And then a new sound wove itself into the quiet symphony of the seashore, and not the kind of sound Dr. Fell expected to hear. It was hissing, low and threatening.
Aziraphale froze and peered into the dark water in the gloom under a looming arch of basalt columns.
He could just make out a dark, slow moving shape. Ah! The sealion. Possibly injured. Which meant it would be grumpy - he would probably need to call for a rescue team.
He picked up his phone to dial a team, when he heard a large not so animalistic groan, which pulled his attention to what he presumed to be a sea lion.
He squinted, certain that his eyes were deceiving him: instead of the furry hide he had been expecting, there was a semblance of scales and... a flash of pale skin?
Phone clutched in his hand but all thoughts of calling for back-up flown from his mind, he cautiously crept forward. The creature was large, probably longer than he was tall, he realised, as more scarlet-red and black scales as well as pale skin came into view with every step.
He thought back over his veterinary studies... trying to identify, from the size and colouring, what sort of creature he was looking at.
The hissing was louder as the creature sensed his approach and tried to swim away. However, something hindered its attempt of doing so, perhaps an injury?
Now in full view, he could see a large mound of seaweed, torn fishing net, and a long line of scales. A fish of some sort, then. The pale sections... injuries? Chemical burns? He dropped his kit bag onto the sand and removed his knife.
The green and reddish mound of seaweed (hair?) rose up on its arms(?) and the creature hissed at him again. Aziraphale knew himself as a sensible and practical veterinarian but nonetheless he gaped at the sight in front of him.
It was horrible. Beautiful.
“Oh, look at you! You’re gorgeous!” After the words had slipped his mouth, he scolded himself for mixing two quotes of his two favourite TV shows, Dr Who and … that other one.
The "creature" stared at him with its large amber eyes, momentarily forgetting its unpleasant condition. "Oh." Aziraphale remembered what he was doing. "Stay still. I'll cut this for you." He hesitated. "Do you even understand me?"
No of course it... he? Doesn't Aziraphale tutted to himself. It's obviously a... a... - he approached the tangled netting slowly, his rational brain still trying to categorise the creature as something non-terrifying mythical
Past sailors were known to have mistaken manatees for mermaids, but he had always thought it said more about their boredom, and probably state of dehydration, than to any actual similarity between them. Now, he was reconsidering if he had been studious enough when learning about all existing sub-species.
The supposed-sea-lion watched him warily, slightly flinching when he slowly moved his knife toward the tangle of net. Aziraphale carefully sawed through the first few links and tried his best not to let the blade touch the creature.
Oh, how stunning the creature's scales were up close, Aziraphale thought while cutting carefully around a tangled fin.
Once the final cut was delivered, Aziraphale pulled the net apart. The creature surprised Aziraphale with a strong flip of its... his...? tail to free himself from the rest.
Aziraphale stood back and took a proper look. He saw a man's torso, the narrow waist graduating to black and red scales where his legs should be. Ok then. Aziraphale bent at the waist, trying to prevent the fainting spell he knew was coming.
He held his hand out to check the creature’s tail, when the tail suddenly swiped from his grasp and under his legs. Knocking Aziraphale onto his back.
Well at least I won't faint now I'm flat, Aziraphale thought, before two snake- like eyes appeared above him.
They were eyes filled with curiosity, caution and, perhaps Aziraphale was imagining it, a flicker of warmth.
The honey golden eyes blinked, as Aziraphale gave him a warm smile. He slowly sat up making the creature back up a little, its tail curling behind him as he stared at Aziraphale.
"Hello, there," he said, eyes trailing up and down the creature, gleaming and beautiful, finally still for perusal and unobscured by any netting. "That's you feeling better then?"
It turned its head, eyes zeroing in on Aziraphale’s mouth to watch the words form.
“Can you speak?” Aziraphale asked, leaning over to the creature.
The creature blinked in surprise. "Oh yes, your accent threw me though. Not heard someone like you since I was in Richmond on the river. What's an Englishman doing all the way in the Pacific Islands?"
"Before we discuss geography," Aziraphale said firmly. "I'd like to know whether that tail is sprained."
“I’m fine.” He said, moving his tail closer to him, making him grimace slightly.
Aziraphale huffed. "There's nothing fine about that look on your face, er-" "Crawly," said the creature. " 's what humans call me."
"Oh," Aziraphale murmured, catching the odd inflection in Crawly's voice, "and...is that what you like to be called?"
Crawly blinked in surprise. "I've err... never thought about it actually. I've never been asked."
“What do you want to call yourself?” Aziraphale asked.
"Ehhhh..... Crowley?" Crawly Crowley suggested hesitantly. Aziraphale nodded reassuringly as he began to sit up. "That'll do nicely. I'm Aziraphale by the way."
The creature flinched when Aziraphale stretched out a hand toward them, their golden eyes glancing briefly at the knife he was still holding.
"Oh, so sorry! I'll put it away." he said, folding it promptly to tuck it back in his bag.
Crowley then took Aziraphale’s proffered hand, before looking him up and down. "I must say you're doing well for your first run in with a... what do you call me? A merman?"
“Oh! Oh, thank you. I’m trying my best.” Aziraphale said, with a semi relieved smile.
"Usually there's a lot more... screaming. And running. That sort of thing." Crowley wiggled his fingers.
Aziraphale looked at him. "I can assure you screaming is not protocol in my profession." Crowley's expression shifted slightly. "Good, because someone's coming, and I'd rather not be found by them."
Aziraphale whipped his head round to see an old man with a beard shambling along the beach towards them. "Good lord, can you get back into the water? I've not even checked that tail of yours."
"Oi!!!! YOU!!" The old man yelled out. "How many nipples ya got?!"
Aziriphale felt his mouth tighten, tilted his head around and said in his most bitchy, posh manner “Not that it is ANY your concern, my good man, but just the two.”
"I weren't talkin' ta you!! I were talkin' to that creature beside yeh." The old man kept shambling menacingly toward them through the sand.
“Well I’m sure you can see that he just has the two as well.” Aziraphale said.
"Is tha' a wee selkie you got there lad?" The man narrowed his eyes. "Careful it does nae' bite yeh."
“Indeed,” Aziripahle said faintly, letting his eyes linger on the lean form, glinting subtly from water and the silica of the sand covering them both.
Crowley bared his teeth in something that was not quite a smile. "I am not a selkie."
Aziraphale looked between the man and Crowley, confused on why that would anger Crowley. Before he cleared his throat, “I should really check your tail.”
"You think more nipples will be down their laddie?" The man asked. "Well, you're the vet from the rescue centre are ye not? I won't argue with th'expert."
Seizing the opportunity to send the interloper on his way, Aziraphale exclaimed, "Would you mind doing me an awfully large favour and get in contact with the centre, perhaps let them know I need some urgent additional assistance?"
"Aye!" The man shook his fist. "I've a telephone back in my shed. I'll give them a ring for ye lad. That jezebel on reception knows me well enough!" And he turned on his heal and marched back up the sand.
Crowley glared at the retreating man. “Selkie,” he muttered in an insulted tone,” I am not some fuzzy, round sea potato.”
Aziraphale tried not to get distracted by the fact Crowley had implied selkies were actually a thing; he had quite enough on his plate with an honest to goodness merman right in front of him.
Crowley hissed and flinched when Aziripahle brushed the sand from the lower portion of his tail, revealing a lacey iridescent fluke that had a vivid red welt from the nylon netting.
"Oh, my dear, this will require some proper care..." Aziraphale looked back up to where he parked his van and wondered if it was capable of transporting a six foot long mythical sea creature.
What happened next is a tale for another day, but by the time the tide turned, neither of them was quite as alone as they had been that morning.
art by @brwneyes