The End is Nigh (Ngk 9)
Well, the end of my fic anyway. Here it is the last bit of my first Good Omens fanfic, "Angelic Lies, Demonic Truths."
For a really crappy summary as well as the first part of this fic, go here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/788452.html#cutid1
The second part is here:
http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/788994.html?view=9445634#t9445634
The third is here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/791111.html#cutid1
The fourth is here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/792139.html#cutid1
The fifth is here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/793462.html
The sixth is here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/795170.html#cutid1
The seventh is here: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/798436.html#cutid1
The eighth: http://community.livejournal.com/lower_tadfield/800506.html#cutid1
It is still rated 'T', still semi dark with violent bits and some language that grammarians wouldn't approve of. Still has humor. Or attempts at humor. :D And this still might/probably will eventually get double posted to stjamespark and gaimanfanfic.
A big thank you to goneshootin (Fido), who beta-ed the last chapter and basically held my hand while I finished the story. Thanks my dear!! Couldn't have done it without you. Or, at least, I would have had a lot of angst and it wouldn't be as good, if I HAD done it without you. ^_^
Here is the finale:
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Chapter Fourteen
Raphael shifted. He didn’t want to interrupt the ‘moment’ but as he desired to get the entire unpleasant business over with he cleared his throat. “Ahem.”
There was a pause. The demon glared at him through dark glasses (the Healer couldn’t see the glare, but he felt it) and Aziraphale looked mildly chagrined.
“Pardon the interruption,” Raphael began, “but…” He trailed off, looking unhappy.
Aziraphale noticed his unease and (rather stupidly, in Crowley’s opinion) took pity on him. “Yes?”
Raphael sighed and decided to try the more formal approach. (1) “Principality Aziraphale, former Guardian of the Eastern Gate and Divine Terrestrial Agent, I have been Sent here to, to, ah.”
“Carry out Divine Judgment?” Aziraphale guessed.
“Well,” Raphael said, in a low tone. “Actually, he referred to it as ‘granting you mercy-’” There was a loud snort from the Serpent. “But you’ve got the general idea.”
The Principality noticed that ‘he’ hadn’t had a capital. “The Metatron?”
“Precisely.” If Archangels ever wiggled in discomfort, Raphael would have been doing so, but they didn’t, so instead he was gripping his scalpel like it was his only tie to Heaven. (2)
“Mercy, eh?” Aziraphale said, seeming rather calm, chipper even. “Didn’t think he cared.”
The Divine Healer barely managed to stifle a surprised laugh. “I don’t think he’s forgotten the Armageddon fiasco. Aziraphale…I really am terribly sorry about this.”
“Sorry? You’re ssorry?” Crowley hissed.
The Divine Healer fixed his gaze on his flaming scalpel and spake the Name of the weapon, “Skalmē,” whereupon it tripled in size and developed a hilt, though it was still distinctively scalpel-like.
“Thracian?” Aziraphale asked, noting the language he’d used.
“Forget the language; you named your sword after itself?” Crowley snorted, referring to the meaning of Skalmē, which literally meant ‘sword.’
“It has the right sound,” Raphael replied testily, “and I liked Macedonia.” (3) He gripped the hilt tightly and pointed it at the pair. “I suppose we’d best get on with it. Er, Crowley, was it? The offer still stands. No harm will befall you if you don’t interfere.”
The demon muttered something that sounded like, “You can shove your halo up your Holy arse.”
“Go on and summon your weapons, then,” Raphael said. Aziraphale coughed. “Ah. So sorry, Aziraphale, I didn’t mean to-“
“Quite all right; I’ll manage without.”
“Stop being so da-blessed polite, will you? He’s here to try and kill you.”
“Angels don’t die, Crowley.”
“End your existence, then.”
“That’s no reason to be unpleasant.”
Crowley just stared at him.
Raphael watched them both. Their exchanges were quite endearing, really.
“Raphael. I would appreciate it if you’d leave Crowley out of this.” Aziraphale said, standing up again.
“Certainly,” Raphael replied.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley growled. “I am not going to stand by and let him discor-destroy you!” Aziraphale looked at the Serpent with his eyes soft and shining with warm angelic affection. “You owe me dinner,” the demon added lamely.
“Dear boy,” Aziraphale said, sounding as though he wanted to say more. He put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed it.
And then Crowley shoved his hand off and glared. “You tried to put me to sleep!”
“Bother. I must be more out of sorts than I thought.” Aziraphale rubbed his temples, wavering a little on his feet. “That should have worked.”
“Aziraphale.”
Raphael inadvertently cringed at the amount of anger in the demon’s voice and for a moment he thought that his job was going to be done for him.
“I don’t want you involved, Crowley,” Aziraphale said sincerely. “There is absolutely no need for both of us-that is-“
“Stop with the martyr crap. What’ve I got to lose, anyway?” Crowley asked flippantly.
“Your existence, Crowley. You won’t lose anything if mine is lost, so why chance it?” Aziraphale replied.
Crowley muttered something.
“Pardon?”
“I said, I’d lose you.” A pause and then Crowley hastily amended, “That is, I’d lose the Arrangement. And a replacement Agent would be sent. You think I want to deal with another angel?”
“Don’t mind me, boys. I’ll wait for you to finish, shall I?” Raphael asked dryly. Neither angel nor demon noticed. The Divine Healer put his scalpel-sword down and leaned up against it.
“If you aren’t, erm, permanently Ended, Crowley, how will you explain being discorporated by an Archangel while protecting a Principality? They’ll investigate, you know.”
“That Archangel is invading my territory-“
“I do apologize,” Raphael put in, knowing full well that he was still being ignored.
“Your point, my dear?”
“That’s reason enough for a demon to attack.”
The Healer realized Aziraphale was worried not only that Raphael would smite Crowley but that, even if the demon survived, he would get in trouble with his superiors for attempting to protect him. After all, some beings-the Metatron inadvertently being one of them-would think the two were committing treason. This was just one fine mess the Healer had gotten himself into. It was obvious he was going to have to deal with the demon as well-Aziraphale and Crowley were, apparently, even if they didn’t necessarily admit it outright, a pair. A package deal.
The two of them were still arguing when out of nowhere, Raphael sneezed. That was odd. He never sneezed. The only allergy he had-on Earth, of course, since the idea of having allergies in Heaven was ridiculous (4)-was to hellfire. Aziraphale and Crowley fell silent, exchanging a look as they sensed something, too. Abruptly, the floor of the flat burst into flames, there was a strong stench of sulphur, and then, after the hellfire disappeared, the Archangel Raphael realized he was going to have to deal with two demons.
1. He wondered why he hadn’t sighed so much before. It was becoming a habit. He was going to be teased by the other Archangels, he just knew it. They’d already found his stash of chocolate back in what the humans called the Middle Age. Mikael still made fun of him.
2. Technically, it was. After all, the Metatron had basically told him to knock off Aziraphale or else.
3. Raphael had never claimed to be especially creative with language.
4. The idea of an angel having allergies on Earth was ridiculous, too, but Raphael had occasionally found himself, while on Earth, allowing his human form to indulge in human weaknesses. He wouldn’t very well be a good Healer if he didn’t experience some such things, after all. (That was also the reason he never blocked any pain he felt, though that was saying something since he felt it all. He did, however, allow himself to indulge in gratuitous eating and other grief blocking mechanisms on the occasion.) The Divine Healer had limits, though; he had yet to allow himself neuroses (or at least, not as many as some of the other Archangels had, despite the fact that they didn’t have his excuse) or to transform into a broken inanimate object or wounded piece of vegetation. He was, after all, Healer in every sense of the word and could have been called Divine Fixer of All Things that Aren’t Right. He didn’t just ‘heal’ injured people or beings, after all, he was in charge of anything broken or in need of any form of mending (which was probably how he became patron saint of automobile mechanics and embittered singles, as well as the usual medical types).
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The hellfire vanished. In its place loomed a hulking demon with the body of a crab, the tail of a scorpion, and, if the way he was waving around his pincers was any indication, the personality to go along with his crustacean looks. Before anyone could move, Crowley was snapped up into one of the four claws and Aziraphale had a stinger poised at his throat.
“Anthony J. Crowley, you are coming back to the C.A. with me to face trial.”
“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale inquired just as Crowley asked, “Come again?”
“Don’t act the fool, Serpent, the imps told me all about what happened. You destroyed a Duke and you’ve been associating with that-that pathetic excuse for an angel!”
“I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale repeated, his tone frigid. (1)
Raphael let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was beginning to understand the human experience of getting a stress headache.
It took Crowley a second to convince his brain that it was, indeed, Thamuz in front of him. It wasn’t just that he no longer looked like his usual incarnation when on Earth, (a pudgy, balding, tall guy who looked exactly like a ‘Ted’) but his avatar was also much bigger than he remembered. It felt a lot stronger, too.
“Don’t think I’m going Down There without a fight just because you’ve built up your strength a little, Thamuz.”
If a demon-crab-scorpion could smile, Thamuz would have. “I hope you do resist me-then I can try out my new powers.” At the puzzled look, he added, “I used some of my spawn.”
Crowley looked a little green. “That works?”
“Who are you?” Raphael interjected, before Thamuz could respond. The Archangel was leveling his scalpel-sword at the newcomer and his tone was that of one who has really had enough of this nonsense thank you.
“Thamuz, Torturer of Souls and-”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale said to his counterpart. “What did he mean, he used some of his spawn? Aren’t spawn-? Isn’t that another word for-?”
“Created lower demons? Yep. He ate them. He ate some of the kids he had with a succubus and absorbed their power. (2) Isn’t that right?”
“Tasted like chicken.”
“Oh, really,” Aziraphale chided.
“That’s enough!” Raphael gathered his power, preparing to banish the scorpion-crab.
“Smite me and I reflexively poison the angel here,” Thamuz said, stinger still at Aziraphale’s neck.
“You’re here for me, not him,” Crowley stated at the same time Aziraphale made a snorting sound that was almost a laugh and said, “Raphael’s here to-“
The Divine Healer interrupted. “Excuse me, demon-Thamuz, I believe? It’d be best if you’d leave. I’d rather not exert my Wrath, but I will.” (3)
“I’m leaving,” Thamuz replied. “But I’m taking the snake with me.”
Before Crowley could change forms to put up a fight and before Raphael could say anything, Aziraphale had closed his eyes and Willed.
Several things happened in rapid succession. Flames of holy light engulfed the base of Thamuz’ claw that held Crowley. Both demons blessed loudly. The divine flames burnt off the claw and it (along with the Serpent in the claw) fell to the ground. Raphael avoided a blow from the three remaining pincers that whipped around and Aziraphale flopped to the floor. Crowley then pried the claw from around his waist and discovered that the injuries he received from being held in a vice-like pincer had been miracled away by his angel. Aziraphale was already on his side, pushing himself up.
“Bless it, that hurt,” Thamuz whined, before he collected himself. He decided that no promotion (he was hoping he’d get promoted for bringing Crowley in, even though he’d broken the rules) was worth it and that he was going to get that Principality (and his little Serpent, too).
Thamuz focused on Aziraphale and, since he couldn’t think of a particularly witty, villainous thing to say, decided to go with one of the classic ‘angry demon’ responses, which was to bellow loudly and destroy whatever had harmed one. In this case, the scorpion-crab demon roared and then readied his stinger, lunging toward Aziraphale.
“Denied,” Raphael said as he blocked Thamuz’ deadly tail with his blade, though the Healer hesitated at doing anything more drastic. (4)
“Why is it,” Crowley began as he shoved Aziraphale out of immediate range of the scorpion tail. “That all I seem to be doing lately is saving your fat arse?”
“My behind is not that extensive,” Aziraphale replied. “And I believe I just saved you from Thamuz’ grasp.” (5)
Raphael ignored them, currently avoiding Thamuz’ blows but not landing his own. Instead, he flared up his Presence, inadvertently causing the scorpion-crab to reflexively lash out in pain with his tail. The stinger hit Raphael (who had not yet fully Invoked his Power) right in the chest.
“Bother,” Raphael murmured as he went to his knees. He obviously wouldn’t be defeated by a lesser demon, but it would take him a few moments to heal from such a direct hit of demon poison. Moments during which he was vulnerable.
Thamuz, scorched from the Presence and seething, scuttled forward to discorporate the Archangel so that he could End the Principality. Afterward, he planned to nab the Serpent, turn him over to the CA, and go home to get ‘nursed’ by his succubus.
“Looks like they might take care of one another,” Crowley was saying, when, instead of doing the sensible thing and letting their enemies finish each other, the Principality lurched upright and sent another ray of holiness at Thamuz. The beam incinerated yet another of the demon’s claws. “Azziraphale,” Crowley hissed.
Needless to say, Thamuz didn’t take the new development very well and he instantly turned away from Raphael and back to Aziraphale. The Principality tried to send forth another blast, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Unable to summon enough Power, Aziraphale slumped down to the floor, eyes closed.
The revenge-bent demon rushed forward and lashed out with his stinger to skewer the defenseless Principality, but Crowley (breaking his promise to himself not to act reflexively) threw himself on top of the prone angel. (6) He closed his eyes automatically, waiting for the horrible, stabbing pain.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, there was a sudden, incredible explosion of Divine Light as Raphael Invoked his holy blade and slammed it into the scorpion-crab. Thamuz didn’t even have time to scream before he was a pile of ash.
A few seconds later, Crowley opened his eyes and was surprised to find that he was in one piece and not the least bit injured from the holy blast. He was also still on top of Aziraphale, and he rolled off of him, saying, “You are a blessed idiot. What were you thinking? You’re not healed enough for that kind of thing.”
Aziraphale didn’t respond.
Crowley looked over and saw the Principality’s eyes were still closed. The demon hurried over to kneel beside him, barely noticing that where Thamuz had been there was merely a large scorch mark. (7)
“Angel?” Crowley asked, shaking his shoulder.
No response. Crowley felt tentatively, nervously for Aziraphale’s Presence and found it, a small twinkle again, though it had previously been more recovered. The demon froze, although he hadn’t been moving.
“I did tell you I would exert Wrath if I had to,” Raphael said quietly to the smoking burn on the floor as he stepped over it.
Crowley clambered in front of Aziraphale (8) and hissed at the approaching Archangel, his fangs ready. “Ssstop there.”
1. He’d been having a very rough twenty four hours, so he was inevitably going to be a tad bit cranky.
2. A note on spawn and eating them: Demons of high rank could create imps/minions/spawn at Will, but lesser demons needed help. It took two lesser demons to be able to spawn. The demons could mingle their essences which, in turn, would make them powerful enough to form a lower demon. (For further explanation, consult Where Do Imps Come From?)
All demons know that if one consumes another demon, they absorb his powers. This is usually more trouble than it’s worth. Most of the time, the only ones that want to consume another demon’s power are lesser demons and they don’t have a chance at actually doing it. Besides, the resulting upsurge of strength after the consumption is only temporary. Moreover, (after one large scale incident that would have put Hannibal Lector to shame) the Administration of Hell frowned on the practice. (And if Hell ‘frowns’ on anything one does, one can usually except to have one’s bowels rearranged and one’s skin flayed.) Nevertheless, if an ambitious lesser demon wanted to, he could consume his own spawn, and thus he would be, in a sense, temporarily increasing his own powers. In short, if a demon eats another demon, the result is a temporary surge of power for the eater.
3. Raphael wasn’t threatening the demon, he was stating the facts. The Divine Healer wasn’t into intimidation. In fact, the reason he was readily prepared to banish Thamuz was because he was menacing Aziraphale which, on top of being unnecessarily rude, was the last straw for the Healer. True, he was supposed to End Aziraphale himself, but he wouldn’t do it in a way that would hurt-he’d make sure it was quick and painless. Thamuz wouldn’t.
4. The problem he was having was that he knew the Metatron would expect him to kill everyone in the room or, failing that, take the coward’s way out and let Thamuz take care of the other two. But Raphael didn’t want Thamuz to End the Principality or the Serpent. Aziraphale was a nice fellow, after all, and he and Crowley seemed, well, a match made so far outside of Heaven and Hell that it had to be part of the Ineffable Plan. They were Meant to Be, in other words. Of course, Raphael knew he was somewhat of a romantic. And that he was fighting Thamuz in order to put off the inevitable fact that he had been Ordered to destroy Aziraphale.
5. Literally. The Serpent couldn’t quite decide if Aziraphale was attempting to be humorous or if he was, in fact, perfectly serious. Crowley often had that problem.
6. Crowley figured that, if he survived, he’d have to do a lot of corrupting of souls or something equally bad in order to make up for all the stupid heroics he’d been doing lately. And he wasn’t even acting that way just for the sake of the Arrangement. Actually, it was for Aziraphale’s sake, which was worse.
7. Which was sort of in the shape of Disney channel star Miley Cyrus. Take from that what you will.
8. He told himself he wasn’t really being a gallant fool, it was just that Aziraphale really had saved him from Thamuz’ grasp so technically he should even things up by making sure the Principality didn’t get Ended. He didn’t really believe himself, but he was the Serpent and great at conning-well, at the least, great at pretending to con even himself.
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Raphael hesitated. “Crowley-”
The Serpent rose from his position beside Aziraphale and moved in front of him. He kept his fangs bared, his claws ready, and he spread his wings as wide as they went, blocking the Archangel’s path. The stance was one of protection; it was the equivalent of saying, ‘Back off. I won’t attack you first, but if you try and get around my wingspan, I will.’ (1)
Crowley had never imagined himself challenging Raphael, the Divine Healer, one of the Seven who Stands before the Lord, Master of the Powers of Light, the Shining One who Heals, Prince of the Presence, Regent of the Sun, etc. He had already fought Duke Hastur, which had been as much for the suffering caused to Aziraphale as it had been for the Arrangement. Challenging a high-ranking angel like the Healer made his attack on Duke Hastur look positively sane.
And yet Crowley was again standing between Aziraphale and the Archangel, entirely certain in his decision that if he had to, he’d fight Raphael. He tried very hard not to think about why. It wasn’t as if Crowley had a chance of defeating Raphael, after all; one of the many little voices in his head was screaming, ‘A bloody angel isn’t worth your existence, you twit!’
But Aziraphale wasn’t just any bloody angel. He never had been, not even back in the days of the Garden, just like Crowley had never been just any sodding demon. (2) So it was probably natural that the two of them had gotten used to each other, had stopped seeing things as black and white, and had invested in the gray zone, though neither would actually admit it.
Regardless of the reason, Anthony J. Crowley wasn’t going anywhere. They would End together, or not at all. Crowley groaned inwardly at the thought, but he didn’t budge. He was realizing, with horror, that he meant to try and uphold the promise he’d made earlier to Aziraphale: ‘no one’sss going to hurt you again ever.’
“If you would merely,” Raphael began, moving forward, but he stopped talking and moving when Crowley’s demonic Presence spiked.
His wings, still outspread, rose higher, and his hissing grew louder, reminiscent of a rattlesnake’s tail rattling harder seconds before the strike. It would have been the perfect moment for Crowley to say, ‘If you want him, you’ll have to go through me’ or ‘None shall pass,’ (3) but instead he just let out a long, low hiss, almost a snarl, that managed to say it all nicely.
“You needn’t-”
“Don’t,” Crowley said. He didn’t want to hear about how he needn’t be discorporated if he’d only step aside; he didn’t want to hear anything at all. Once again he settled into stillness, his eyes-more red than gold at the moment-glaring at the Archangel. He pulled back his lips to clearly expose his long fangs, and he growled low, in case Raphael missed his clear warning.
Sword lowered, the Healer kept walking forward, albeit slowly. “I merely-“
Crowley struck.
Raphael’s sword clattered to the ground. The hand that had held it was nearly severed from a swipe of talons. The top of the Healer’s shoulder was torn open by a nasty bite. Instantly, the Archangel surged power into his Presence.
The human body Raphael currently occupied seemed to fill with an inner light, the same kind of glow that happens when one places one’s hand directly over a torch’s beam, revealing the veins in one’s fingers.
The Serpent sank to his knees and an already healed Raphael retrieved his scalpel-sword and held it incredibly close to Crowley’s throat. He could feel the searing heat of divine fire on his skin.
“Crowley.” Raphael said. He did not yell or growl, but he spake. It was the kind of voice that, had a human heard it, would have seemed to echo everywhere, inside and outside of one’s head at the same time. It made whoever heard it, even a demon, pay attention. “Be still.”
And with that, Crowley was Bound, essentially frozen in place, unable to act. Next, the Serpent assumed, would either be Banishment or a Smiting (4).
“I’m sorry, but I don’t particularly care to get bitten again,” the Healer said apologetically as he walked around Crowley.
The demon couldn’t turn to look behind him, but he knew Raphael was going toward the Principality. Aziraphale was going to be Ended and he couldn’t do a blessed thing about it. It was rather trying for Crowley, who had always been a closet optimist. He had continuously believed, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that somehow it’d all work out. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have tried to stop the Apocalypse. But how could everything work out if Aziraphale was Gone? It couldn’t-and Crowley couldn’t do a blessed thing to stop it from happening. It was very easily the worst feeling he’d ever had. (5)
“No.” Crowley fought against the power that held him in place and just managed to summon enough anger to clench his fists, claws scraping along his palm, though he was still Bound and couldn’t move anything else.
He couldn’t see what was happening behind him; with the Principality being so weak and Raphael’s giant Presence nearby, Crowley couldn’t detect Aziraphale’s essence at all.
A paralyzing thought (pardon the expression) poured over the demon like he’d been doused in ice water. Had the Healer Finished the angel? Crowley’s claws dug further into his palms and he swore to himself that if he survived-if Raphael banished him instead of smote him-he’d let the next Apocalypse come, would wait for the Final Battle eagerly. In the meantime, he’d plot for a way to destroy Raphael. Crowley himself would be destroyed in the process, of course, but that wouldn’t matter…
Raphael moved back around to the front and saw the demon’s face, which had gone expressionless. But he was a Healer-he always sensed pain, even if it wasn’t physical, and it was more than radiating off of the Serpent. “I haven’t done anything,” he said softly.
Crowley was disgusted to find that, if he could have, he might have sagged in relief. “Look, you’ve not said why he’s really on Heaven’s shit list. If you really were here to deliver mercy, than wouldn’t it be a He-a lot more merciful just to heal him? What kind of twisted bastard sends a Healer to Off someone? What kind of twisted Healer-“
“You’re trying to protect him.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but it felt like one.
Crowley stayed silent. If he was going to be smote, he wished Raphael would hurry up and get it over with without talking him to death. Besides, how was he supposed to answer?
“I didn’t believe it at first, though it seems obvious now,” Raphael said ruefully. “You’re ready to face nonexistence for Aziraphale.”
Crowley glared at Raphael, whose green, green eyes were boring into his. “Just watching out for my own interests,” he grumbled.
“How so?”
“‘S complicated.”
“I’m not going to End Aziraphale,” Raphael said, coming around to face the demon.
Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow, suspecting a ploy. (6) “I don’t believe you.”
“She said I’d Know what to do.” Raphael turned his fiery sword back into a scalpel and vanished it to his medical supply cabinet in Heaven. “And I’m not going to End Aziraphale.” (7)
The demon’s expression, that of Doubting Crowley (a stronger Look than even that of the original Doubting Thomas), didn’t waver.
“I give you my word.” Raphael waved a hand and released the bind. “The only reason I Bound you was so that I could tell you that without you biting my throat out.”
Crowley stood shakily. He felt ill (no matter how careful Raphael was, binding always weakened a demon), but the first thing he did was turn around to look for Aziraphale. The Healer had picked him up off the floor and laid him on the mattress. The demon staggered over to him and sat on the side of the bed. He remained very aware of Raphael’s every movement, however.
“You might not have to, anyway,” the demon said quietly, examining Aziraphale’s small Presence. “He was getting better, but now he seems worse again.”
Raphael walked over and stood next to them.
Crowley glowered. “No closser.”
“I’m just going to look.” Raphael leaned over the lower-ranked angel.
Crowley watched him warily, hissing under his breath without even realizing it.
The Divine Healer touched the side of Aziraphale’s face with a gentle hand. “He’s over done things and relapsed.”
“If you’re not going to End him, are you going to heal him?” Crowley asked, his tone challenging. (8)
“No,” Raphael said with honest regret.
Crowley took a deep breath. “What do I have that you want?”
The Archangel was only taken aback for all of a half second. He was dealing with the original tempter, after all. “I can’t be tempted, Crowley.”
He let his shades slid down his nose a bit so he could meet Raphael’s eyes. “I’m not tempting you; I’m offering you a chance to make a deal.”
“Ah. And deals with devils always go so well,” Raphael replied.
The Serpent’s gaze didn’t waver-the more he held eye contact, the more likely the victim was likely to give in. Of course, this was far from the normal situation. “I’m not asking for your essence, healer. All I want from you is for you to name your price. Tell me what you’d need in order for you to Heal the angel.”
Raphael surveyed the demon, who was carefully keeping all expressions off his face. He didn’t know how well the Healer could feel him. Angels were sensitive to emotions and feelings in general, and as Divine Healer this was doubly so for Raphael. The Serpent might have been in business mode, his eyes as beguiling as they could get, but the Archangel could feel that this wasn’t a regular kind of temptation-it was tinged heavily with desperation. Desperation, resolve, and worry.
“Why are you doing this?”
Crowley gave his best Flash-Bastard grin. “Like I said, I’m protecting my own interests.”
“As I said, how so? Are you certain you’re not asking solely for his sake?”
“I am not doing it for him,” Crowley denied firmly. “It’s just that Aziraphale and I stay out of each other’s way. If he Fades, that’ll be all over with and a new Agent will get sent down here and start stepping on my toes. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t really want Aziraphale to cease existing, so let’s make a deal.”
“I really can’t heal him, Crowley. I’m sorry, but I’ve been forbidden.”
“No one has to know. I may be a demon, but I’m a demon of my word. I’d never reveal whatever agreement we come to.” His voice was sincere, beguiling, and Raphael could see what Eve had given into all those years ago.
But the Healer wasn’t a mortal and he’d already made up his mind. “I’m not going to do it.”
1. The wings, could they have actually spoken this, would have said it in the same sort of tone that John Wayne had when he said, ‘If you’re lookin’ for trouble, I’ll accommodate you.’
2. (And that wasn’t merely Crowley’s personal opinion.) A regular angel would never have deigned to speak to a demon beyond the usual ‘begone’s and ‘expire foul creature.’ A regular angel wouldn’t have sheltered the Serpent from the rain with his wings or given away his fiery sword to a human. Furthermore, a regular angel certainly wouldn’t have decided to be Ended by a Duke from Hell rather than betray a demon. Aziraphale wasn’t, had never been, regular.
Likewise, Crowley never had ‘fit in’ with the crowd Below. A regular demon wouldn’t have made an arrangement with an angel or acted as a chauffeur for an angel or raced inside a burning building for an angel. He wasn’t regular and it wasn’t just because he’d been on Earth so long, either-or at least, it wasn’t just that. Being stationed on Earth had made the gap between Crowley and Hell as well as Aziraphale and Heaven wider (and had also possibly deepened their recognition of freewill) but it hadn’t actually caused the gap. Otherwise, the two of them would have been more like a generic angel and demon when they were in the Garden.
3. Customary Monty Python reference.
4. Generally, an Archangel, after Binding a demon, wasn’t going to merely slap his wrist, stick him in the corner, and slip a ‘Dunce’ cap on his head.
5. And coming from a demon who had experienced Hell itself, that was saying a lot.
6. Demons always suspect a ploy. It’s what they’d do in the other person’s position, after all.
7. It was as good an explanation as any, and he honestly had come to the realization that he couldn’t End Aziraphale. Raphael wasn’t sure if that was what She had meant, but he had Known what he was going to do the moment he saw Crowley push Aziraphale out of the way, Aziraphale save Crowley, Aziraphale help Raphael himself, and then Crowley throw himself over the angel to be stabbed in his place. He was not going to destroy Aziraphale. He would not separate them, not even if the Metatron Felled him because of it. And because he was an angel, and angels do not exactly have free will (it’s complicated), he assumed that it must be God’s plan, otherwise he wouldn’t have felt that way.
8. The Serpent briefly wondered if he had a Nonexistence-wish himself, since he’d been acting heroic and stood up to an Archangel who could banish him as easily as he could blink. If it had been any other Archangel, Crowley would have already, at the least, have been banished, and more likely smote.
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“I don’t have the strength to heal him again, but you do,” the demon said, clenching his jaw. His eyes briefly went red again. “He could End anyway, if he isn’t restored. You can’t call yourself a Healer and leave him like this!”
Raphael gazed from the demon to the angel. He made up his mind. “I can’t Heal him.” The Serpent let out an angry hiss. “But you can.”
“What? I jusst told you-”
“Please give me your hand.”
Crowley snorted.
Raphael just looked at him expectantly. (1) After a long stare down between them, the Healer said, “If I wanted to smite you, I could have done so a long time ago.”
“Rub it in,” Crowley grumbled.
Brows raised, Raphael extended his hand pointedly.
“What are you playing at? Feeling lonely, are you?”
“I can lend you the Power to heal Aziraphale, Serpent.”
“Lend me the Power?” Crowley crossed his arms. “Do you know how cliché that sounds?”
“Do you want the Principality to cease existing?”
Crowley frowned. “That ought to be obvious, healer. I already told you, if he Disappears, things get tougher for me.”
“Then take my hand.”
“I touch you, I probably get smote into next Tuesday. You’re setting me up,” Crowley replied.
“There wouldn’t be any point! I could dispatch both of you easily without an elaborate trick.” Raphael was stating the facts, not being smug, which only served to make the demon more annoyed.
Crowley glanced at Aziraphale’s still face before looking back at the Archangel. “I have to actually touch you?”
“Am I that repellant?” Raphael asked, his expression somewhere between an amused smile and an injured frown.
“You’re an Archangel,” Crowley said, as if that explained everything. (To him, it did.) He didn’t extend his hand; if the Healer wanted hand-holding, he’d have to take Crowley’s. It was not going to happen the other way around. He narrowed his golden-yellow eyes, which were just visible over his shades. “What would you want in return?”
Raphael sighed. The demon was missing the point. “If you care about him, you’ll do it.”
“I bloody well told you it isn’t about him; it’s about me and my job! Aziraphale makes it easier in the long run, that’s all! If a heavenly agent has to be around, its better that it’s him, that’s all. It doesn’t mean I want to get all soppy and hold hands with an Archangel.”
Raphael folded his own arms. He wasn’t letting the demon skirt the issue so easily. “Do you care about him or not? If you don’t, then by all means, don’t take my hand.”
“Just give me your blessed hand and shut up.” Crowley thrust out his hand angrily. (2) Raphael took it.
The contact didn’t hurt.
At Crowley’s surprised expression, Raphael smiled. “I’m a Healer,” he said.
Warmth tingled through the demon’s fingers and into his palm. “What’d you do?” Crowley asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I was told that I couldn’t heal Aziraphale. No one ever said I couldn’t give someone else the ability to do so.”
The Serpent stared down at his hand and shivered-he had just begun to feel a little bit of what it was like to have Raphael’s Healing Power. It hurt. He could intimately sense Aziraphale’s current discomfort, and worse, he could feel the whole range of pain the Principality had gone through. He even felt the mental anguish of the nearest human beings and Raphael’s own pain at being unable to heal Aziraphale. Power thrummed in him, divine power. It had been so long since he had felt any…
Raphael cleared his throat softly. “I’m sorry, Crowley, but the Power will recede after you heal Aziraphale. I can’t bestow it forever.”
“I wouldn’t want it,” Crowley said snidely, but he was, at least in part, lying. “Who’d want to run around like a pansy pronouncing ‘thou art healed’ all the time?”
“What do pansies have to do with it? Their traditional medicinal uses are for humans-treating skin conditions, lung problems, and arthritis,” Raphael replied, proving that there really were beings more out of touch with earth language than Aziraphale. (And actually, the majority of the other angels were even worse than the Healer was.)
“Never mind.”
Raphael miracled the room neat and pristine, making sure the spot that had been Thamuz was gone.
Crowley ran a hand nonchalantly through his hair. “So, I say ‘be whole and well’ or something?”
“Just take his hand and Will him to health. He’ll stay asleep for a while, regenerating, and when he awakens he’ll be whole again.”
“He’ll be fully healed?”
The Archangel looked at the demon and smiled, his eyes soft, and Crowley scowled.
“I just want my apartment back to myself and him out of my hair.”
Raphael shook his head at the demon’s defensiveness. “When he wakes up in a day or so from now, yes, he’ll be healed. And about what I want in return…”
Aha, Crowley thought, I knew he’d go in for bargaining. The only angel that had ever or would ever give the Serpent anything willingly-other than the sharp end of a sword-was Aziraphale. He was also the only angel that wouldn’t necessarily expect something in return for a favor.
“Aziraphale should have someone watching out for him while he’s recovering. I oughn’t to stay on Earth that long. Will you look after him for me? It would make up for the bestowing of my healing power.”
“I guess I’ll do it,” Crowley murmured. “If it’ll make us even.”
Raphael nodded. “I’m glad I didn’t have to smite either of you.”
“We’re glad, too.”
The Divine Healer smiled wider before getting back down to business. “Even after Aziraphale wakes up, he should still take it easy the next week. Make certain that he doesn’t do any but the smallest of miracles, just to be safe. Got that?”
“Yeah.”
“Repeat what I’ve said, please,” Raphael said, ever the Healer.
Seeing there was no other way to get the Archangel out of his apartment, Crowley scowled and muttered, “Will him to health, he’ll sleep for about a day and shouldn’t be alone. He should rest for a week with no miracles that entire time.”
“Exactly. Oh, and Crowley?”
“Yeah?”
“Your secret-that is, the secret you and Aziraphale share-is safe with me.”
Crowley glowered over the top of his sunglasses. “What d’you mean?”
“Your…friendship. I shan’t reveal it.”
“I told you, healer, this was purely a sensible business move on my part.”
“And you ought to know, demon, that the only way I could freely share my powers with you was if you genuinely cared about whatever you were going to Heal. It’s a stipulation in my power-bestowing contract, so to speak.”
Crowley blinked, unsettled for a millisecond, before replying, “Sure I care about him-as someone who makes my existence easier because he stays out of my way-”
Raphael gave Crowley a Look and the Serpent trailed off.
“I don’t disapprove, you know. Friendship, love-those aren’t sins, even if, well, you’re on opposite sides.”
Crowley wanted to snarl, but he settled for grousing, “He’s definitely more of a pain in the neck than a friend.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Before the demon could respond, Raphael continued. “I have something to ask you.”
“What?”
“If I happen to Fall, would you help a fellow out?”
Crowley almost laughed before he realized the Archangel was serious. “You think it’ll come to that?”
“I don’t think so, but I thought I’d ask in case. It’s better to be prepared. Still, if I dally around Earth a while, I can say that Aziraphale was fully healed-by someone other than myself-before I could ‘end his suffering.’ Oh, before I forget, if you see Asmodeus, do tell him I say hello, won’t you, and that I send my best?”
“Uh…”
Raphael shook his head. “Never mind, you can’t do that without explaining why you saw me. Oh well.” He tried not to sound too disappointed-he hated the thought that Asmodeus was probably angry with him (to put it mildly) and the Healer had wanted a chance to clear the air (3).
“Good luck, then,” Crowley said pointedly, indicating the visit was, in his opinion, over.
“Take care of each other,” Raphael said. He closed his eyes and bolstered the demon’s waning strength as surreptitiously as possible. Crowley didn’t notice. The Divine Healer paused, his face revealing confliction. “Er, Crowley.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think you can count on either side for, for much support in an emergency.”
“Amazingly, I figured that out.”
“Even if it’s just business with you two,” Raphael said, though he was certain it wasn’t. “You ought to watch out for each other.”
We already do, Crowley thought, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded his head to acknowledge the statement.
Raphael left the apartment, walking outside rather than making an ostentatious show of disappearing in a ball of light. He eagerly eyed London. It had been a long time since he was physically on Earth.
Crowley, still sitting next to the angel, took his hands. He closed his eyes and Willed. The healing power Raphael had granted him flowed through his fingertips and both his hands and the Principality’s were momentarily filled with divine light. (Just as miraculously, the divine light didn’t injure Crowley at all. Something Raphael had ensured, of course.)
The light spread from Aziraphale’s hands. Soon his entire body was glowing. All traces of injury disappeared. The Principality’s angelic Presence flared up, strong once more. Both his face, which had been drawn, and his expression, which had been troubled, smoothed out. The angel let out a sleepy sigh and burrowed deeper into his pillow.
Crowley released Aziraphale’s hands and watched the healed angel sleeping for a long moment. He didn’t let himself smile, but his own brow un-furrowed for the first time in hours. A tide of some kind of emotion-it certainly wasn’t relief-washed over the demon, filling him with contented warmth. Crowley decided the feeling must be a side effect from Raphael’s gift. The power to Heal came along with the power to be an emotional sap.
The Serpent yawned, his exhaustion starting to catch up with him, and he hesitated only a second before he gently scooted the Principality over. Aziraphale made a sleepy murmur, but he didn’t wake. Crowley put his legs up on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. He had told Raphael he’d keep an eye on Aziraphale and look after him. After making sure the angel was staying on his side of the mattress, Crowley stretched out next to his counterpart, his supposed Enemy, his angel, and closed his eyes.
It wasn’t long before there were two man-shaped beings asleep on the bed.
1. He would have looked at even a rampaging hellhound expectantly if he’d told it to sit and give him its paw. It was one of Raphael’s weaknesses, believing the best of people/beings, feeling that most of them would do the rational thing in the end.
2. He hadn’t really answered the question. It wasn’t like Crowley could say, ‘Yes, I do, care for him; ever since I’ve been on Earth with the annoying bugger he’s become more like a friend than otherwise, and I’d rather not exist than be without him’ to Raphael; Hell, he couldn’t even admit that to himself. But in the end, both he and Raphael knew, at least on some level, what the answer was.
3. The previous footnote about Asmodeus and Raphael only told why Raphael didn’t hate Asmodeus. It did not relate another reason the Divine Healer felt guilty for the incident…
Raphael had often gone to Earth to Heal (in the old days) and during those visits he had occasionally run into Asmodeus sickening cows or corrupting the local water supply or spreading sicknesses and the like. Each time, Raphael had expelled the demon from the area. It became a routine. (In case you were wondering, the Archdemon and Archangel did not share anything at all like Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship, which had always bordered on being friendly. No, Raphael and Asmodeus weren’t friends, but running into each other did become a habit.) (A side note: Raphael never ran into Crowley during his times on Earth. Aziraphale might well have had something to do with this.)
One time, somewhere between the hellish trouble being stirred, Raphael chasing Asmodeus away, and the Archangel Healing the area, Asmodeus had, in a roundabout way, casually mentioned that perhaps all humans didn’t deserve to roast in Hell. Then he’d asked if Raphael, as a healer of relationships as well as injuries, had any advice on how to get a woman’s attention. The reader can probably see where this is going. In Raphael’s point of view, the whole incident that occurred later with Sarah and the killing of her husbands and then the banishing was his responsibility. ‘Let her know how you feel in subtle ways and show her that you care’-which had been Raphael’s advice-apparently equaled ‘guard her possessively and kill any man near her’ in demon-speak. To his credit, when Raphael had figured out what was going on, he’d tried to stop it without banishing Asmodeus. The Healer had even warned the demon. ‘Look, it’s not like I approve of your kind running around Earth in general and I really oughtn’t to be speaking to you at all, but I can tell you genuinely have feelings for Sarah and anyway, what I’m trying to say is that if you don’t stop this slaying her husbands nonsense, someone Up There is going to notice and you’ll be Banished or Smote. So do yourself a favor and stop it. If you want Sarah to know how you feel, just tell her verbally.’
Needless to say, Asmodeus didn’t take his advice, and Raphael had indeed, as mentioned earlier, been ordered to Bind and Banish him.
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Epilogue: Other Places
Heaven
The Metatron, otherwise known as the Voice of God, received his first Heavenly Memorandum from the Lord. The subject line read, Re: Aziraphale, Raphael, and Actions Taken Involving Them.
‘You Know Better,’ God had written for the opening line. (1)
The note was short and to the point, basically stating that Raphael was not to be punished (2) and to leave Aziraphale alone (‘the poor dear’). The Metatron was hovering somewhere between uneasy rage and anxious guilt, but he decided all of it had to have been part of the Plan, then.
1. On reading this, the Metatron flinched and storms broke out on three different continents with his displeasure. The oft-used-by-parents line was infinitely worse when written by the Lord. Not even the best-at-creating-guilt mother or grandmother could achieve the same response of remorse and dread. Coming from God, the words literally radiated, ‘I’m not angry, I’m disappointed.’
2. Also added, on the side, was, ‘Shame on you for threatening to Fell the Healer in the first place. Raphael has enough to worry about as it is! I’d like to see you feel all the pain in existence and not turn Emo.’
The Sky
Archangel Raphael munched happily on a chocolate bar as he hovered over London, finally ready to head back to Heaven after a productive night (1). He paused merely to finish his sweet and look down on a certain angel and demon, who were both asleep and lying on the same bed in a tangle of wings. The Divine Healer smiled.
Raphael was almost positive he wouldn’t be Felled, he’d been able to do some direct Healing for once, and the candy bar was delicious. Most of all, Aziraphale was alive and well and the Metatron had his chance for revenge taken away. The world, the universe-existence, basically-was, in the Healer’s opinion, all right.
1. London hospitals were amazed when out of nowhere there was a rash of comatose patients waking up, people in hospice miraculously making full recoveries, the psychiatric patients becoming surprisingly lucid, and many other such medical miracles. In one astonishing case, (where Raphael might have, if pressed, admitted to going overboard) a blinded, double amputee was shocked to wake up the next morning and see (literally) that his limbs were there again and quite whole.
Moreover, the rate of couples getting back together and the rate of appliances and vehicles fixing themselves without being thumped also skyrocketed. One example of a relationship being mended occurred in the building near Crowley’s, where the woman who had kicked out her ex and threatened him with pepper spray repented, gently washed out his eyes, and forgave him. The man realized how stupid he had been to fool around and that he really did love Aileen, even if she had sprayed him with mace. The two moved back in together and were never apart again. (Not literally, of course. They merely remained a couple for the length of their lives. Raphael was careful with such things-he remembered the time when another angel, who had been inexperienced with humankind, had made it so that a couple was ‘Never Again Parted.’ That did not end well. Being forced to be together twenty-four hours a day was a trial for even the happiest couple. One can only go to the bathroom with another person in the room so many times before it gets old. The Healer had fixed the resulting messy relationship, with a trip to Gomorrah for the man-obviously before it was Smote and before Raphael knew why the city had the reputation for being a great vacation place-and a few chore-free, shopping-filled months for the woman. After the separation, they got back together. And made sure they each had a lot of ‘alone-time.’)
Earth
Somewhere, two ethereal/occult beings slept on, comfortable in their own special blend of warmth, impediment, balance, and reassurance that they gave one another. Somewhere, a dog barked and a young man reached down to scratch its ears, smiling.
I hope all of you enjoyed the ride! I had a ton of fun writing the story and I hope it wasn't a torture to read it. ^_^;;
Thanks for looking at this! :D
~FoxxFire5
PS) Some art related to the fic is here:
http://foxxfire5.deviantart.com/art/Random-GO-Sketches-98788135
They're not the greatest, but it gets the point across and has the flaming scalpel and a pouty Raphael. What more do you want? xDD