Aziraphale and Crowley Arrive

[pointisdolphins.livejournal.com]

Date: March 17, 2003 (?)
Place: London, Soho, then the road on the way to Lower Tadfield, then the Tadfield Manor
Status: Public (Complete!)
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale arrive

 

 Anthony J. Crowley, the Serpent and Flash Bastard, was headed toward Soho in his ’26 Bentley. This was not an unusual occurrence. However, he did not have his usual serpentine smirk as he defied nearly every traffic law and occasionally the law of gravity while ripping down the streets of London. He didn’t even look put out or pissed off, two other expressions he occasionally donned while heading in that direction. At the moment, the demon actually looked something close to worried. (He still appeared Flash, though, he always did.)

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Outside, Crowley stormed out of the vehicle, glaring at the car parked in front of him that, yes, he had dinged on purpose—it was too close to HIS spot, after all. Naturally the Bentley was perfectly fine. He threw open the door of the shop—its lock never bothered to try and stop him—and yelled, “Angel?!”

Crowley stomped through the store. “Aziraphale! I can sense you in there, there’s no use not answering!”

With a resigned sigh, Aziraphale asked, “And are you finally here to explain how this contraption you got for me works?”

“No,” the demon replied shortly as he headed over to his counterpart and grabbed his wrist, tugging.

“What in the blazes—what is the matter with you?”

“Come ON.” He continued to pull, backpedaling toward the door.

Putting his heels down, Aziraphale frowned. “I refuse to go anywhere until you tell me what's the matter, Crowley!”

The demon gave him a put-upon, impatient look. “Just get in the car. We’re going somewhere. Hurry up.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “You're not taking me to one of those ‘fun places’ that ends up being little more than a brothel, are you? Because I WILL smite you this time.”

Had he currently been using the angel’s laptop to chat with someone, Crowley would have described the look that went over his face as -_-;.

“Don't give me that look - it's a legitimate concern.”

“That was one time in the seventh century. Oh, and if you count that place in Paris. But that's not what this is about—this is serious. Come on, we're wasting time.”

“Serious? Will we be coming BACK?”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses. “Probably.” A pause and then he added. “I hope so.”

“... ... ... Allow me to grab some things and I suppose we shall be on our way. You WILL explain this to me in the car, won't you?” The angel began fetching some of his better books.

The demon leaned against the door frame, ever the picture of cool, Flash impatience. “You're bringing your books?” he asked, neglecting to mention the collection of houseplants in the boot of the Bentley. Aziraphale didn’t answer, so Crowley crossed his arms and watched. First Aziraphale grabbed his Oscar Wilde books, then his tea set, then some biscuits for the road, and then his laptop.

“ANGEL.”

Ignoring the oh-so-cool yet beginning to become irate demon in the doorway, Aziraphale grabbed his rarest collection of Bibles and Apocalypse predictions, then the Greek classics, The Faire Queen by Spenser, and the complete works of Shakespeare.

“Any time now.”

The desk the angel was stacking the books on was beginning to sag. “Hmm.” After a moment, he put back the doubles of Shakespeare. “Hush, Crowley, that’s a dear.”

Again, the only way to describe the look on the demon’s face had he been using the laptop would have been with an emoticon, specifically >_<.

“It might be cold where we’re going,” the avid planner Aziraphale muttered to himself, collecting a few blankets off of his ancient couch. Those grabbed, he picked up his Hemingway collection and a little statuette set of an angel and a demon who are holding hands along with his knitting set.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Crowley muttered, and then stared at the figurine. “What the—what is THAT?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale dithered a moment and then began taking all the books off the shelves. “Oh, I saw it at one of those little boutiques downtown. Isn't it adorable?”

“… … …” was the demon’s only response.

“Do you plan on making yourself useful or are you going to simply stare at me?” Aziraphale asked as he raided his wine and chocolate repositories, adding them to the pile.

“I plan on going to the car and leaving in about five seconds, with or without you,” Crowley replied. He was, despite himself, amused at the angel’s choice to bring wine and chocolate—though he had his own stash of alcohol in the miraculously large boot.

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After a long sigh and a stare off, Aziraphale tut-tuted. “Have fun on your 'vacation' dear. This shop won't run itself, after all, and I'm sure you're just exaggerating. And to think I got unorganized for nothing. Well, it was time to change the arrangement of the books anyway...”

Huffing, Crowley resorted to grabbing an armful of books and hoofing it outside to the Bentley.

“Get back here! That was Wilde!”

The demon put the books in the backseat and started the car with a thought. “Come on angel, get in or kiss the books goodbye!” He yelled, having always secretly wanted to say that.

“You are SO getting smote for this,” Aziraphale responded, finally heading outside and climbing into the front passenger seat. “Carry on then,” he said, crossing his arms and staring out the window.

Locking the doors, Crowley pressed on the gas, going from 0 to 90 in .5 seconds.

“YOU CAN'T GO 90 DOWN OXFORD - WOULD YOU STOP SWERVING TO HIT PEDESTRIANS?!”

“They shouldn't be out at this time anyway!!” Crowley responded, honking and then flipping off another driver. “Stuff it up your—“ He cut himself off as he swerved wildly to miss a semi.

“It's NOON for someone's sake, Crowley!” The angel miracled a little old lady very quickly across the road, despite the fact that she used a cane.

“Whee!” yelled the old lady.

“My point exactly. They should be home--bugger off you stupid wanker!!--having lunch or taking a nap or working. Not walking down the streets.”

Aziraphale clenched his fists. “Do the words ‘smite you in the face’ mean ANYTHING to you?”

Crowley ignored him, squeezing in between two cars to pass them, even though it shouldn't have been remotely physically possible. “I’m in a hurry.”

“That doesn't give you the right - oh bugger it. Where are we going and why and DON'T tell me you'll tell me later, you'll tell me NOW.”

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Eventually Aziraphale sighed at Crowley’s ensuing silence, finally realizing that his being tight-lipped indicated that the demon was truly freaked out by whatever it was. He reached over and patted his counterpart on the knee. “I’m sure everything will be fine, my dear.”

Despite the comfort behind the gesture, Crowley jumped and the Bentley swerved with his shock. A couple in another car swerved as well, the driver giving Crowley a rude gesture.

“Watch out for that kitten!”

Crowley swore under his breath and miracled the kitten off the road. Aziraphale sighed in relief and relaxed. “See? Everything will be fine.”

Crowley continued staring straight ahead, composing himself and getting the car back under control. “Yeah,” he muttered, “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

The demon gave an annoyed sigh. “Do I actually have to explain things? Can’t we just sort of keep – you great pillock, shut your bloody cake hole! – driving, in silence?”

Aziraphale turned to watch the car that Crowley had shouted at drive further away. “‘Shut your bloody cake hole’? That’s crude, even for you.”

Crowley looked embarrassed. “It just means mouth.”

“Oh. I was going to say, that sounds unappetizing to say the least.”

Aziraphale delighted in Crowley’s stifled smile. Nevertheless he needed to ask, “Crowley, I just packed up ten books and a laptop for a trip of an unknown length for an unknown reason; I think I deserve at least something of an explanation. Where are we even going?”

Crowley sighed. “I figured silence would be too much to ask of you.”

“No need to be even ruder.”

“Before I explain, just concentrate for a minute,” although it was hard, what with Crowley honking at someone he’d begun to tailgate, “Do you feel anything?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and felt his way through the celestial and occult auras that he had grown accustomed to over the last six thousand years. The further the Bentley traveled, the more he could feel one particular power beckoning to him – “Oh, we’re going to see Adam? How nice, is it his birthday?”

Crowley took his eyes off the road to glance at him before admitting, “No, it’s not.” Then he grew angry, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the steering wheel. “This isn’t a sight-seeing trip, or a vacation!”

“Don’t lose your temper with me!” Aziraphale snapped tersely, “You won’t tell me what’s going on, so how am I supposed to know? In case you’ve forgotten, mind-reading is against the first rule of the Arrangement!”

“Well so is letting other demons rip you apart!” Crowley shot back. “Uh.”

Aziraphale turned his upper body in his seat and just stared.

“… … can we pretend you didn’t hear that?” the demon muttered, suddenly concentrating very hard on the windshield.

“We certainly can not!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “Who’s trying to kill you, Crowley! And why! Why didn’t you say something earlier – we certainly didn’t need to run, we could have…” The impact of what he was saying – someone wanted to hurt, kill Crowley – finally hit him and he slumped into the seat. “Oh dear.”

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

“Stupid angel – not me, you! Well, maybe me too, but mostly you! I couldn’t-” He cut himself off again.

They drove on in silence, Crowley reluctant to explain himself and Aziraphale pondering this news. Someone wanted to kill him. But... “… me? Whatever for?”

“Letting you bite the big one would violate rule number two,” Crowley mumbled, running a hand through his black locks.

“… … yes, I suppose my untimely demise would end the Arrangement, now would it?” Truth be told, Aziraphale had no idea what to think anymore, so he decided to stop thinking altogether. These things had a way of fixing themselves, after all.

“Listen, I don’t know why he’s after you,” Crowley snapped back, “I – it just wasn’t – never mind.”

“… … I see… and so you’re taking me to Adam for… my protection, then? I… thank you, I suppose, but really you ought to have discussed it with me first… Oh dear.”

More silence filled the Bentley as they drove towards Lower Tadfield. “I’m not… just leaving you there. Who knows what you’d get into without me around.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. You’ve always been the more responsible one, haven’t you…”

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale sideways. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“Well you know me and my nasty habit of dragging you places without telling you the why of it beforehand…” Aziraphale smiled broadly.

Crowley’s glance turned into a glare. “Funny. Very funny.”

“In fact, as much as I would like to, I’ll even neglect to connect your sense of responsibility to your inherent spark of goodness that you may or may not have.”

“Yeah. Thanks a bunch. For not mentioning it or bringing it up at all.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Crowley sighed, pressing down on the pedal a little harder. “You’re a bit of a bastard yourself, you know,” he said fondly.

Aziraphale chuckled and looked out the window. The silence that fell between them was telling – Crowley was desperately hoping Aziraphale would quit prying him for information. Well, Aziraphale certainly wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. “So, whom do I have the pleasure of avoiding this time? Any of your friends I might know?”

Crowley responded so quickly there was no way he thought about it beforehand. “It's none of your business.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to glare. “Oh really. How, pray tell, do you justify my not knowing my own apparent attacker, hmm?” When Crowley didn’t respond, he continued, “This should be interesting. Do tell, dear boy.”

Crowley responded so softly that Aziraphale couldn’t hear him. Then he said a little louder, “Because I say so.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms and stared out the window. “Hmph. Fine. I’ll wheedle it out of you eventually. Or when they kill me; whatever comes first.”

“AZIRAphale...”

“You're going too fast, I can't see the countryside that well.”

Aziraphale could practically feel Crowley’s eye-roll even as the demon acquiesced and slowed down a little. “Satisfied now?”

Aziraphale wasn’t, neither with the scenery nor with Crowley’s answers, but responded, “I suppose.”

The rest of the drive was silent until Crowley broke it with a soft murmur, “Ah, the Manor.”

Aziraphale looked from the side window to the front. “Ah. I wonder if there will be any nuns this time, Satanic or otherwise.”

“I sure as He – something hope not.” He pulled the Bentley into a parking space that he created, one very close to the door.

Aziraphale pouted as he exited the car. “Although I really wish I’d brought all my books with me, especially if this is an extended vacation.” He moved to the back and began gathering what few books he had brought, the laptop, the wine and the chocolate together. “Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to take a field trip some time to get the rest.”

“I have a few more plants to pick up too,” Crowley responded, a large hydrangea under one arm and a particularly beautiful aloe vera under the other. He gestured to the manor with his head, walking off. “Well c’mon angel. Let’s go see what the kid is up to.” Aziraphale followed him, books and computer trailing behind him dutifully, miraculously.

Crowley pushed open the door to the manor and glanced around, walking in. Aziraphale smiled at the demon’s paranoia and followed.

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The second Crowley was in the door, he froze. "Adam's not here, but there is someone..." He concentrated, then very quickly turned around, pushing Aziraphale in front of him and out the door. "Beelzebub's here, we're leaving, NOW."

[lordofthesouth.livejournal.com]

Not a huge fan of interrupting personal dramas, Belial was leaning against a shaded pillar outside the main doors, watching nosily, but fully intending to mind his own business if it came down to it.

Well, until the dark one had mentioned Beelzebub on the way back out. He was fully aware of Beelzebub's presence -- and sure that Beelzebub was aware of him.

They didn't exactly get along well enough that Belial would seek him out. Except, perhaps, to torment. That always alleviated boredom.

"Leaving so soon?" he said, liquid and melodious, moving so smoothly he nearly oozed out of the shadows. Sometimes a little flash and pomp was needed. "You just got here."

Inexplicably, the demon was holding a potted plant. Belial didn't bat an eyelash. He smiled broadly. "I wouldn't worry about him. Is he after you for something? I can arrange it so he isn't."

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, giving the pair a lazy smile. "Stay a while, have tea. I'd do it just to watch him bounce and sputter. No strings."

[pointisdolphins.livejournal.com]

Crowley eyed the smooth-talking, higher-ranked demon who was, yes, very practiced and at ease. The Serpent wasn't surprised to discover it was Belial, Prince of Smooth. (Crowley himself was Prince of Flash, though, so he wasn't TOO impressed.)

Giving Belial a nod of respect, Crowley found himself also radiating cool, calm, and collected as he said, "Thank you, Lord Belial, but that won't be necessary. We were just leaving."

In fact, in Crowley's opinion the quicker they were out of there and away from two of his superiors--one of whom wanted to terminate Aziraphale and grind him into a pulp--the better.

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

“Nonsense, my dear.”

Aziraphale was completely overwhelmed. Crowley had inadvertently revealed that Beelzebub wanted him dead, and Beelzebub was in the house. But in theory Adam would (eventually – Aziraphale could sense his absence) be in the house as well, and now Belial (THE Belial!) was offering sanctuary…

There would be time for thinking of such things at a later time. For right now, Aziraphale wanted some calm, some time for him to sort the facts out, a bit of a reprieve so that Crowley would quit being so jumpy. Case in point, when Aziraphale spoke Crowley startled as if he had slapped him.

“I’m sure whatever quarrel Mr. Beelzebub has with myself can be solved diplomatically. Besides, there’s no sense running any further, as I’m certain there’s nowhere safer than right here, under the benevolent protection of Mr. Belial.”

Crowley continued to look uncertain.

“I wonder if the manor has nice rooms; I’ve been here before, obviously, but have never spent the night. Oh well, I suppose I shall find out, yes?” He nodded to Belial, ignoring the incredulous glance Crowley was now giving him. “Thank you again, Mr. Belial.”

To prove his point more thoroughly, he approached the front desk, where Ms. Hodges was now waiting expectantly, having heard them entering, apparently. After asking her if she had had good dreams lately (she blushed and indicated she had), Aziraphale requested two rooms for him and Mr. Crowley, close to each other (because who knew what sort of silliness Crowley would get up to if left unattended?), please.

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Ms. Hodges indicated she had two large suites available, but they were adjoining--would that be a problem?

Crowley huffed and gave Aziraphale a cool, disdainful, I-am-not-Pleased, look. He did NOT want to be staying here in the first place, but if that stupid angel was going to, and it seemed he was (and once he decided to do something he stuck through with it no matter how idiotic), well...

"That's fine," Crowley replied curtly. "Thanks."

The keys were handed over and the demon let out a sigh. For better or worse, they had arrived.