Where the Mountains Meet the Heavens

With Closing Eyes (London, 2019 CE)

"It's a promise, you know. I will protect you, Crowley. Against all of Hell."

Crowley started to shake. Aziraphale's voice was so cultured, so gentle, and with such protective strength behind it. Angelic power, reassuring and comforting.

And all wrong.

"No, angel, t-that's my job. I will look after you."

"But I have nothing to fear," Aziraphale said, sounding surprised. "Oh, Gabriel is annoyed, but I acted in accordance with the Almighty's will, he'll come to realise that. If not, I will go higher." He turned, gathered Crowley close, and the demon stood stock still and deeply terrified in his arms.

"Aziraphale. Aziraphale, listen to me, please."

"What can they do to me? If I Fall, I Fall. I accepted that as the price of Rebellion, as did you. Not so bad when you get used to it, you said. When the worst has happened, that is freeing. But I don't think it will come to that."

"Angel, no, no, no. They will destroy you if we're not careful." Crowley wasn't sure how he knew, but the knowledge was there, weighty in his chest. A warning from the child Adam, perhaps? That terrifying child whose eyes saw through everything.

"Nonsense, dear."

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and let the tears flow silently as the choral music reacted to his presence, became less spiritual, more discordant. Still beautiful.

"My dear — my darling, what has come over you?" Aziraphale stroked his back, and Crowley had dreamed of this often, dreamed of being able to be vulnerable and held close with the deep glow of Aziraphale's love surrounding him, dreamed of being called "darling" in that tender way, and now it was happening it was dreadful, and he clung and clung and wept. "I'll protect you. I was afraid before, but not now. I can, now. I know for sure I was right to choose Earth, it's what the Almighty wanted. I'll hold everything I love safe."

"They destroyed the bookshop!" That struck home, so Crowley immediately felt bad about it, as Aziraphale flinched. "Didn't you love that? That didn't save it."

"Perhaps — there had to be a reason for that. Maybe She needed to cut off my last excuse to hide instead of fighting. But She left me you."

"To protect you."

Aziraphale tensed, as if he was going to argue, then relaxed. "All right. To protect each other. My darling, you have protected me so often, won't you allow me to protect you?"

Crowley's heart cramped with the recognition that he wanted that desperately. He would protect Aziraphale, he would always, but perhaps, just perhaps he also could shelter under Aziraphale's wings once more. Our own side — that was both of them together, right? Not just him. After all, the angel was the more powerful one, for all he was inclined towards fluttering and learned helplessness whenever given the chance.

No one had ever, ever offered to protect him, a fucking demon. Oh, the Almighty, they had all been Her children, hadn't they? Then Michael and the others had cast them into the Pit and She'd let it happen. This angel, this low ranking, soft, rebellious angel wanted to protect him, and in this moment, held in his arms, it felt completely possible.

Aziraphale stroked his cheek. "Crowley, you are exhausted. I'd pull the fatigue poisons from you if I dared, but... Perhaps you had better sleep."

Crowley didn't want to let go. "What about you? You don't sleep, but you must be exhausted."

Aziraphale chuckled. "This body has only been awake a few hours. Only been alive that long, fresh and new. It's got a good six thousand years to go, at least. But you need to rest. Listen, your ridiculous sound system agrees."

"With closing eyes and resting head, I know that sleep is coming soon. Upon my pillow, safe in bed," sang the massive choir of human voices, more discordant yet more beautiful than any angelic choir.

"I don't want to let go of you. Never again."

"Crowley," Aziraphale breathed, and for one heady, impossible moment Crowley thought the miracle would be even bigger than he thought, that the embrace and the my darling would be followed with a kiss, because Aziraphale's gaze was on his mouth and there was a heat to it, as if it was tinged with desire as well as tenderness.

Crowley held still, and hoped, but there was no kiss.