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It was a dark and stormy night.
The last several nights had been dark and stormy. As had the days. And the upcoming weeks didnāt bode much better. Rain had been promised for forty days and forty nights. And it wasnāt a light drizzle. It had been a constant and freezing torrential downpour, complete with powerful gales and deafening rainfall. It was a storm the likes of which the world had never seen before and had been promised that it would never see such a thing again.
The rain fell and the floodwaters rose. Too fast to escape completely, but slow enough to cause panic and despair before death could claim them. Because that was the purpose of the rain and flood sent by Heaven. To drown and wash away everything deemed evil, sinful, wicked, or unworthy of being saved. Even the birds could not survive, falling from the skies from exhaustion when they ran out of places to land or when the strong winds knocked them out of the air. Only one living creature remained airborne.
Crawly[1] kept flapping his waterlogged wings, only managing to remain in flight through sheer spite and stubbornness. Heād kept going even as he moved past weariness into bone-deep exhaustion. An exhaustion that reached even deeper than his corporeal body. It hadnāt taken him long to realize that the rain and flood sent by Heaven held more power than mere water.[2] The rain clung to him, weighing him down. Draining his strength faster than it should. Trying to drag him down to the forming waves and pull him under every time that Crawly came too close to the surface.
The water was death for anyone unworthy of Their mercy and love. And as far as Crawly was concerned, They had made Their feelings very clear when he Fell for asking a few questions. When it came to being unworthy of being saved, demons would always be at the top of the list. He didnāt want to think about it, but part of Crawly feared that he was risking more than discorporation in the aggressive storm.
Somehow, he knew the water held death of a permanent nature even for him.
But he kept going. No matter how the rain chilled him to his core and kept trying to force him down. No matter how the wind yanked him wildly, making his flight a barely controlled tumble through the air. No matter how deafening the storm raged and the thunder crackled around him. Crawly kept going.
He couldnāt stop. He couldnāt let this happen. He knew that on a deep level, far below rational thought.
It wasnāt fair. Maybe the grown humans managed to be corrupt and cruel enough that it was reasonable to remove them from the world. Maybe. But not the children. They didnāt deserve it. Adults knew the difference between right and wrong. They understood. Crawly ensured that with the fruit. But children were still learning. How could They condemn someone as being evil and unforgivable with their actions when they didnāt understand the concept of something being wrong?
Then again, none of the angels really understood what evil was until a third of them were questioning and theyād somehow stumbled into a full-on rebellion. None of them knew what it meant to do the wrong thing, that something could actually be wrong and bad. And yet They didnāt hesitate to make them Fall for their decisions. Why should he be surprised that They would be equally unfair to Their humans?
He could claim that he was trying to disrupt Their Great Plan. That was what Crawly would claim if Hell asked. But regardless of the reason, he couldnāt let all those children drown without doing something about it.
They were kids. You couldnāt just kill kids.
The first three that Crawly collected were the trickiest. The humans were surprised by the heavy rain, but not yet afraid by that point. Tempting the children away from their parents honestly took too long, but it was less traumatic than just snatching them up and flying to the ark. He didnāt want to scare them.
Not to mention that he needed them to stay quiet as he snuck them onboard. Crawly knew that Aziraphale remained on the ark, guarding and watching over Noah and his family. He could sense the angelās presence quite easily, like a bright and warm beacon in the storm. He didnāt know what the angel would do if he caught Crawly smuggling children and he didnāt want to put Aziraphale in that position. He didnāt want the angel to have to choose. It would be too easy for the decision to lead to doubting and questioning, which could lead to Falling. And Crawly couldnāt bear the idea of Aziraphale Falling. That meant that he needed to be stealthy about bringing the children onto the ark and sneaking them into a secluded corner of the hold.
After the first three children were tucked away and hidden, he returned to the skies. And the fear and panic finally had a firm grip on the population. The humans were scrambling. Trying to reach high ground by any means necessary. Some parents abandoned their children, focused solely on saving themselves. Others would shove toddlers into his arms, desperate to give their kids a chance as the floodwaters rose. Screams, cries, and shouts filled the air, almost as loud as the storm itself. Crawly hated the sounds at first. But it was worse when the screams stopped during his later flights.
Crawly couldnāt stop and he couldnāt slow down. He could only carry so many children at a time. He only had two arms and only the youngest ones were small enough to carry multiple children at once. He couldnāt save them all. Especially when every trip out, he found fewer and fewer surviving humans. Even the high ground wasnāt high enough. And the search for more kids kept taking longer, forcing him to go farther and farther from the ark.
The thirteenth child, a girl who couldnāt be older than eleven, had taken far too long to find. Lift up by her father, trapped on a large submerged boulder and on the verge of being swept away by the waves and current. She cried when Crawly grabbed her and the man vanished under the water. But weariness, fear, and sorrow left her unconscious by the time that he reached the ark.
He almost missed the fourteenth child completely. Crawly had flown an exhausting distance, eyes scanning the dark water and debris. He had barely heard the thin wail through the pounding rain and thunder. But he did. A rapidly sinking basket barely floating among the broken remnants of the world. And nestled inside had been a red-faced and screaming infant. Crawly snatched them up, though an unexpected wave nearly hit him and knocked him into the depths. And after he made it back, put the baby in the care of the older children, and restocked the food and water heād provided earlier, Crawly had taken to the air yet again.
But there was no fifteenth.
The demon flew as far as he could, searching for higher ground where humans might stand a chance. Or pieces of broken wood that they could cling to and float. He kept going long after he should have stopped. Long after rational thought told him that it was over. He didnāt want to give up. He didnāt want to admit it.
There had to be others. He knew that there were so many more children in different settlements all across the area, their homes now deeply submerged. There had to be others and Crawly needed to find them. He couldnāt let them die. They didnāt deserve it. They did nothing wrong.
Maybe They intended to test humanity, but it wasnāt a real test if they didnāt stand a chance. How could children have failed so badly that they deserved to die? How could infants who hadnāt even learned to crawl yet have failed Them so badly that they deserved this? None of the children knew any better yet. The children were being punished alongside the adults, but they didnāt understand yet. None of them understood. Why couldnāt Their forgiveness and mercy be shared with those who did something wrong from ignorance rather than out of malice?
Crawly remained in denial and searching long after the truth became impossible to ignore. There was no one left. And eventually he admitted defeat.
Crawly was now heading back towards the deeper and rougher waters where the ark waited. Heavy with water that seemed to weigh him down on multiple levels and his body aching with exhaustion, he couldnāt even remember how long heād been flying. He couldnāt remember when the freezing rain had started. He couldnāt even remember how long ago heād dropped off the fourteenth child. It all ran together. It had been days at least. After he made it back and took care of the children that heād collected, Crawly intended to rest.
Bobbing and weaving as the wind and rain knocked him around, he kept going. He wished that he could just glide for a little while. It would give his wings a break. But he needed to constantly work at it to keep in the air, flapping and adjusting to the hostile conditions. Everything ached from exhaustion and numbing cold. Waterlogged wings and soaked clothes weighed him down. Demons could see in the dark, but he was still struggling to keep track of where he was going. Black skies and thick clouds, dark and churning waves, and freezing rain coming down in blinding sheets made it hard to see very far. Especially as he tried to concentrate on maintaining control in the air. The occasional flash of lightning helped a little, but the crashes of thunder were disorienting and overwhelming. All he could do was try to keep flying and follow the bright warm feeling that was Aziraphale.
If he could follow that feeling back, he would find both the angel and the ark. Then he could curl up in the hold and rest. He could check on the children that he managed to save, tuck them into the straw and wrap them in some blankets. And then he could sleep. He could get warm and let his aching muscles rest. Crawly just needed to make it back and then he could sleep.
Lightning flashed and he caught a glimpse of something in the distance. The ark. He could see the ark. Somehow Crawly found the strength to flap harder. The end goal was in sight. Just a little farther. He needed to go a little faster and a little farther. Then he could rest. He just needed to make it through the rain and the cold and the windā
āThen it hit.
A sudden gust, stronger and at the wrong angle, twisted Crawly in midair. Bending the wing the wrong way. Crawly yelped as his body flipped. Wings under him and useless. He flailed as gravity took hold and the storm finally could drive him down.
He was scrambling to get his wings moving together. Struggling to twist his body the right direction again. But the rushing wind refused to cooperate and grant him that mercy. Crawly couldnāt gather enough force to overcome it. He didnāt have the strength left to fight it. He was spiraling and spinning wildly, unable to get flipped back around. A death spiral. Falling. Out of control.
But he needed to fly. He needed to stop. Please, stop. Donātā
The hard impact of cold water drove the air out of him. Then the wave hit Crawly, shoving him down before he could take a breath. Heavy waterlogged wings dragged him down. Wings not meant to move through water. He was sinking deeper. Fast.
He clawed desperately, trying to grab anything with buoyancy. But the current was strong and these floodwaters were meant to kill. Their whole purpose was death on a massive scale. And Crawly couldnāt escape. Arms, legs, and wings flailed desperately for the surface. He wasnāt even certain which way was up anymore. And the more that Crawly fought, the stronger the current and waves claimed him.
He couldnāt breathe. He didnāt need to, but his body claimed otherwise. The water gripped his limbs, tangling and slowing them. It forced its way into his mouth and down his throat. His chest spasmed and burned, trying to force out the water. His body wanted air and instinctively choked and struggled to breathe. But there was no air. Only cold water brimming with power and heavenly purpose. Water created specifically to drown the unworthy. Panic and desperation gripped him tightly.
The water was everywhere. Even where it shouldnāt be able to reach. He could feel it pouring into him on every level, beyond the physical. How?
Limbs fell still and limp. His vision grew darker, even in the darkness of the floodwaters. His thoughts dulled and slowed. His strength drained away.
Something cold and choking sinking deeper into him, smothering his true form. Trying to extinguish his existence.
Dying. Not discorporating. Dying.
Panicā¦ Fearā¦ The burning ache in his chestā¦ All fading awayā¦
Sinking deeperā¦
His awarenessā¦ slipping intoā¦ nothingā¦
Aziraphale would not question Her plan or Her commands.[3] He knew that Her will was ineffable and that he should obey without any doubts or concerns. That was what good angels did. He was loyal and obedient.
But he didnāt understand why She would want to cause so much death. Perhaps not all of the local humans were the most righteous and perhaps many of them could be surprisingly cruel, but not all seemed beyond the capacity to repent for their transgressions. Some of them even seemed decent and relatively friendly. He couldnāt see how this could be right or good. Maybe he was too close and the tragedy would make more sense with a more distant and long-term view. But from where Aziraphale stood on the deck in the middle of the raging storm, it felt heartbreaking and wrong.
Aziraphale had strict orders concerning the entire flood business. Heaven was quite clear when they set out the guidelines for how he was to proceed during the forecasted forty days and nights of rain and the months that would follow while waiting for the water to recede. He was not allowed to save or assist any human for any reason during the flood other than Noah and his family. And he was ordered to protect and preserve the ark and every living being onboard. The orders were very direct and simple. And he could not disobey them.
That didnāt mean there werenāt loopholes.
He couldnāt help the other humans, but that didnāt mean he had to hinder or harm them. There was nothing in his orders about stopping them or keeping them off the vessel. And once they were on board the ark, they would fall under Aziraphaleās protection. After all, the orders were to protect and preserve all living beings on board. Not specifically Noah, his family, and the animals. If it was on the ark, he was meant to keep them safe. All he had to do was pretend that he didnāt notice Crawly smuggling random children into the hold. It wasnāt even hard. He would simply wander to the far side of the ark and stare out at the horizon in the opposite direction.
Remaining intentionally oblivious and refusing to thwart the demon wasnāt disobeying. He was justā¦ focusing on the weather and making sure the waves didnāt capsize the vessel. That was much more important. It wasnāt like Noah ever built an ark before. He didnāt have much experience crafting such things. It made much more sense for Aziraphale to protect it by making sure that it could handle the rough water. And if a certain demon was fluttering about, wellā¦ Aziraphale could only do so many things at once. It was all about prioritizing and he had important orders to protect and preserve the ark and every living being on it.
Crawly probably thought he was being stealthy about the whole matter, but it was hard to completely miss the arrival of a demon carrying children. Even facing away, Aziraphale noticed every arrival and departure. He knew how many children that heād brought. And he knew that Crawly had been gone too long this time.
Aziraphale was watching the skies. Even in the rain and darkness, he patiently watched. It wasnāt that he was worried.[4] But it was smart to keep track of demons in the area. They could cause all sorts of trouble when they were out of sight. Never mind the fact that it would be difficult to cause trouble during a flood where everyone was dying. Aziraphale needed to keep an eye on his adversary. He needed to wait until Crawly made it back.
He wasnāt certain how long he was waiting, watching the dark skies for any sign of life. At least days. He was certain that it has been days since Crawly dropped off the last child and disappeared. It could have been a week. Time seemed to run together when the rain never slowed and the overcast skies were barely any lighter during the day than they were during the middle of the night. But finally Aziraphale saw a dark figure in the distance when a flash of lightning lit up his red hair.
Sighing in relief, Aziraphale muttered, āThere you are.ā
The angel watched the distant figure, his flight pattern erratic and struggling to remain stable in the storm. The weather meant gliding was not an option. And the powerful winds and constant flapping would be exhausting. His wobbling and weaving flight wasnāt that surprising with that in mind. Especially since heād been doing this since the storm began.
Perhaps he could try convincing Crawly to stay and rest once he reached the ark. The demon barely looked capable of remaining in the air. And, as much as it pained Aziraphale to think about it, he doubted there were many humans left to find. There didnāt seem to be anyone in Crawlyās arms this time.
A particularly strong blast of wind and a larger wave struck together. The ark tilted sharply, listing towards the side and making Aziraphale stumble on the deck. He scrambled on the wet surface. Then the ark stabilized again, bobbing reliably in the water. It took a moment to regain his footing. But then he stood up and looked towards the stormy skies againā
āonly to see a flailing figure falling, hitting the water hard.
āCrawly!ā
Aziraphale didnāt consciously decide to yank out his wings and leap from the ark. There was no decision-making involved. He saw Crawly plunge into the floodwaters in the distance and he was flying towards the demon before he realized what he was doing. And then Aziraphale purposefully didnāt think about what he was doing. He just flew as quickly as possible, thankful that his wings werenāt exhausted like the demonās clearly were and that he had enough strength to combat the storm.
It was too far. He was taking too long. Aziraphale wasnāt fast enough and Crawly hadnāt reappeared.
Where was he? Everything looked the same. Dark waves and rain. And no sign of the demon. Aziraphale felt like something was squeezing his throat and chest, everything tightening painfully as he tried to see anything. A wing, a reaching hand, anything.
āCrawly! Say something!ā
Even as he shouted, Aziraphale knew that he wouldnāt hear anything over the storm. Panic, worry, and horror clawed at him. Desperate thoughts flew through his mind, fast and wild. He couldnāt find Crawly. Why couldnāt Aziraphale find him? This was wrong. How close was he to where he fell? Did he already pass Crawly? Did he miss him? Where was Crawly? He needed to find him.
Please let me find Crawly.
Lightning flashed and Aziraphale caught sight of a small patch of color in the dark water. Something a little lighter than the waves. Maybe it was a piece of debris, but something in him shrieked that it looked exactly how that bright shade of red would look deep underwater. He shouldnāt jump to conclusions. He knew that. And yet Aziraphale immediately folded his wings tight and dove towards the water.
He thought that the rain felt cold, but the shock of impact nearly ripped a scream out of him. But Aziraphale didnāt even pause. After a thousand years, he knew how to swim. Though it might have been wiser to tuck his wings away. But with his wings flat against his back, his arms pulled him forward. Deeper. Another flash of lightning and this time Aziraphale could see a limp figure illuminated far below. The angelās body cut through the water like a knife.
His hand snagged dark fabric. He pulled at it until he could grab an arm. Then Aziraphale kicked towards the surface, dragging the dead weight[5] behind him. It was harder forcing his way back up. The current seemed to fight against his efforts and Crawly felt impossibly heavy. As if the floodwaters were struggling to keep the demon. And that was something that Aziraphale refused to accept.
He finally broke the surface, coughing and gasping as he bobbed in the waves. Aziraphale tried to blink the water out of his eyes even as he wrestled the limp figure in his arms until Crawlyās head was above the surface. It was awkward with his wings, but the angel cradled his upper body enough that he was almost floating.
Aziraphale tried to not think about how pale and lifeless he seemed in the angelās arms. He needed to focus on how to get them back to the ark. If would be hard enough to launch himself back in the air while partially submerged and with soaked wings. Trying to do it while carrying an awkward and heavy weight would be nearly impossible. But he had to try. Aziraphale twisted Crawly around, draping limp arms over his shoulder and wrapping his own arms tightly around the middle. With a secure grip, he focused on the next step of his forming plan.
Two simultaneous miracles. A particularly high wave that pushed them up and a stronger gust of wind that caught his open wings as they beat down hard. Aziraphale flapped strongly, fighting against gravity to pull them both out of the floodwaters. He couldnāt get much height. There was too much weight and his wings were barely more than useless with how waterlogged they were. Most species of birds wouldnāt stand a chance. But he could keep above the waves as he shifted his hold on Crawly, one arm sliding under his legs while the other supported his back. As long as Aziraphale could keep in the air, he could make it work.
Wings beating hard, he managed to fly through the storm. It felt like he was straining something, fighting the weight and the wind. But then the ark was suddenly in front of them. A few more hard flaps of his wings and Aziraphale managed to climb a little higher. Once he cleared the railing, the angel dropped Crawly on the deck and collapsed next to him.
Aziraphale laid there for a moment, panting as his wings ached sharply. He felt the wooden deck shifting and rolling under him. He wanted to just stay still, not moving until he felt less worn out.
But Crawly wasnāt moving.
He pushed himself back up and halfway crawled over to the limp figure. Aziraphale rolled Crawly onto his back and brushed his long red hair out of his face, the wet strands sticking and tangling in a twisted mess. His eyes were almost closed, only a sliver of yellow visible. His skin was pale, his lips nearly blue. And there was something missing. Something that sparked a barely controlled sense of panic.
Crawly wasnāt breathing. He wasnāt breathing andā¦ Aziraphaleās fingers traced their way along his neck. But if there was a pulse, it was too weak and slow for him to find. Or maybe he was panicking too much to focus.
He didnāt want this. He didnāt want Crawly to discorporate. It felt wrong. What if they didnāt let Crawly come back? What if they assigned another demon to Earth? What ifā
Then Aziraphale sensed something else. The deeper feeling of an occult presence that he felt on a different plane than the physical one. An occult presence that he knew to be the demon. A presence that was rapidly weakening. Not being pulled back to Hell. Fading. Almost like his true form was being smothered out by some unknown force. It felt wrong and unnatural, but Aziraphale couldnāt describe it any other way. He knew what he was sensing.
The water tried to drown his physical body and was somehow doing the same on a deeper level.
His thoughts were racing while the world moved in slow motion. He barely noticed the storm or the movement of the ark beneath them.
Aziraphale bit back a terrified sob. He couldnāt let this happen. Part of him warned that he should let Crawly go, that a proper angel would let the demon be destroyed and accept that it was the flood fulfilling its purpose. That it might even be part of the ineffable plan. That his miracle allotment for assignments would be carefully scrutinized and Heaven would not approve of him using it to save a demon. He knew that a proper angel would let it go. Even pulling Crawly out of the water was more than most angels would bother with.
But Crawly was dying because he was trying to save as many children as he could. And maybe saving these particular children was the wrong thing since they were supposed to drown with the others and anything demons did would be wrong by definition. But in that moment, it didnāt feel like what Crawly did was bad. And Aziraphale didnāt think it was fair for the demon to suffer for doing something kind. He also couldnāt stand by and do nothing as Crawly died in front of him, just as he couldnāt let Adam and Eve leave the garden without some form of protection.
He was ordered not to help any humans during the flood. Crawly wasnāt human.
But the angel had to admit that he didnāt know how to help him. There were no wounds or illness. There was nothing much to actually heal. His corporeal body wasnāt in danger because of that. It had justā¦ stopped.
If he could force it to start doing what it was supposed toā¦ If everything would restart again, then he should be fine. Crawly wasnāt hurt. Aziraphale just needed to get him breathing again. Breathing and his heart beating properly instead of being too weak to feelā¦ or possibly goneā¦
There was water in his lungs. Filling them and keeping him from breathing. Crawly needed the water out. Aziraphaleās hands left his face and neck, sliding down to Crawlyās chest.
Still. Far too still.
If the chest rose and fell to force air in and out, then the principle should be similar with water. He pressed down hard. Trying to push and force the water out. Then he tried again. Using more pressure. A sharp, fast, and hard impact. A sudden jolt of pressure to the sternum. There might have been a slight gurgle on the fourth try, but it didnāt feel like enough.
The feeling of the occult presence was still fading. Disappearing towards oblivion.
Aziraphale didnāt dare look up in case Azrael was standing over the demon.
The angel pushed down the feeling of despair before it could fully form. If he couldnāt force the water out, then he would need to force air in instead. Ignoring the empty blankness of Crawlyās face and they way he looked like he was already gone, Aziraphale reached for his head and gently tilted it back. Opening his mouth a little wider. Aziraphale inhaled deeply and leaned down. Then he breathed slowly into Crawly, using a miracle[6] to pull the air deep into his lungs while infusing it with Life and Energy. Hoping that it would give Crawly the strength to survive. Another deep breath followed the first.
āCome on, Crawly,ā he said, panting out the words. āPlease let this work.ā
He leaned down and forced another slow and steady breath of air into the demon, pouring in as much Life and Energy as possible. Ā This time when Aziraphale paused, he felt Crawlyās chest spasm slightly. Encouraged, the angel gave him one more deep breath.
Crawlyās body spasmed suddenly as he vomited water, some of it into the angelās mouth when he didnāt move away fast enough. Aziraphale quickly rolled him to his side as water spewed out in ragged portions, the demon coughing and gagging on the liquid. Then he was gasping desperately. Trying to drag in air around the water that he was choking on. Not actually aware yet, but instinctively trying to expel the liquid in a messy process. His wings spasmed weakly and his arms curled close. But Crawly was gasping for breath between violent coughs that shook his whole body and the water pooled on the wood beside him.
He was breathing. Rough, ragged, and unsteady breathing, but he was breathing.
āThere you go,ā murmured Aziraphale.
He tried to brush back the tangled wet hair, the violent coughs causing it to fall across the demonās face again. But as soon as his hand touched the demon, Crawly jolted into motion. Clumsy and uncoordinated motion. He grabbed wildly at Aziraphaleās arm, his robes, and finally his shoulder, clawing his way up until heād pulled himself upright. Coughing, but vertical. Leaning against Aziraphaleās chest and clutching desperately at him. As if losing his hold would result in something terrifying. Like sinking back underwater again. Aziraphale let him cling, gasping and shaking as the angelās hand carefully settled on his back to support him and his wings curled as much as possible to shield the demon.
āBreathe,ā he said quietly. āYouāre safe. Nothingās going to happen. Just breathe.ā
The choking coughs slowly eased and there was no more water coming out of him. But Crawly was still gasping for air. Azirpahael could feel it. He could feel Crawly breathing raggedly in his careful embrace. He could feel the racing and panicked heartbeat in the demonās chest. And more importantly, he could feel the occult presence. Weakened, but stabilizing.
Alive. Not dying.
Crawly was shivering, but his head slowly rose from where it had settled against Aziraphaleās shoulder. When he pulled back enough, bleary eyes opened and he looked at the angel. Confusion and exhaustion met Aziraphaleās worried gaze. It seemed to take a moment for the demon to recognize him.
āAziraāā The rough voice gave way to another coughing fit, Crawly struggling to catch his breath again. When the ragged breathing settled back into a more controlled pattern, he wheezed, āAngel?ā
āThatās right,ā he murmured. āYouāre safe now.ā
And yes, Aziraphale knew that being vulnerable in the presence of an angel shouldnāt be reassuring for a demon. It should have been the least safe situation possible. And even if Aziraphale had no ill-intentions for Crawly and couldnāt even consider the idea of harming someone so helpless even if a proper angel would see it as their duty, any demon should at least be wary. The words shouldnāt have done any good. But Crawly relaxed further into his arms, slumping limply and apparently focusing solely on the act of breathing. Slow and shaky breaths, the demon shivering the entire time.
Only then did Aziraphale remember the rain soaking them. It had seemed like such a distant concern before. But now he was holding a cold, exhausted, and weak demon. They needed to get out of the weather. Heading down to the hold where the various animals and assorted smuggled children were would be ideal. But the roof overhang was closer. He wouldnāt have to move Crawly very far and wouldnāt have to manage moving him down a ladder. And it would keep some of the rain off at least.
āI know youāre tired and I promise that you can rest soon, Crawly,ā said Aziraphale gently. āBut you need to put your wings away. They arenāt helping you right now and theyāre in the way. After theyāre gone, you can rest.ā
For a moment, Aziraphale didnāt know if Crawly heard him. The demonās grip had weakened at some point. He remained cool and pliant in Aziraphaleās arms, only the shivering and ragged breathing proving that he remained alive. He honestly thought that Crawly might have passed out again. But then the dark wings slid out of sight on the physical plane.
āThere you go,ā he murmured, gathering Crawly back into his arms as he stood. āI have you. Rest now. Just rest.ā
While their new position wasnāt exactly dry, the wall at their backs and the roof overhang blocked some of the wind and rain. Curling his wings forward a bit more added further protection. And with another miracle from his celestial wages, Aziraphale forced all the remaining wind and rain to bend around their little hiding place. It was a decent shelter for now. They could try sneaking the demon down into the hold later.
Aziraphale was ordered to protect and preserve every living being on the ark. And at that moment, that included the unconscious demon in his arms. Crawly was under his protection now and Aziraphale had a knack for guarding.
The return to awareness wasnāt a fun journey. His head pounded, his throat felt raw, and his chest ached. His body shivered. For multiple reasons. Damp and clammy clothes clung to him. Everything felt heavy and sore. All of his strength had apparently vacated the area. And as a final indignity, his mouth tasted like something had crawled in it and died.
But he was alive and intact. And even if he was chilly, he was curled against something warm. That felt nice. The serpentine aspects of him appreciated the heat sinking into his weary body.
Crawly shifted slightly, trying to press himself closer to the warmth. The movement caused soft feathers to brush against him. And that somehow coaxed him to open his eyes.
The skies were still dark and overcast, rain pouring down hard. He could see and hear the storm continuing around him. He could also tell that he was back on the ark. Crawly could glimpse the rain-soaked wood and feel the motion under him. But mostly he saw the pale figure holding him close, wings partially shielding them.
āAziraphāā Crawly winced at the way speaking scraped at his throat, making him think that smaller words were a better idea. āAngel?ā
Giving him a slightly strained smile, he said, āYouāre awake. How are you feeling?ā
His first impulse was to ask what happened. But Crawly wasnāt stupid. He could take the available information and draw some conclusions on his own. He remembered being in the water, sinking and unable to breathe. He remembered not being able to surface. And now he was safe on the ark with the angel. The sequence of events was fairly obvious. While Crawly was busy drowning in water specifically made for drowning everything, Aziraphale managed to fish him out of the floodwaters.
āWhy?ā he croaked roughly.
It didnāt make sense. Sheltering Crawly from the rain and engaging him in civil conversation whenever they met was one thing. Simply the natural result of the angel being polite and being too kind-hearted to make the first aggressive move. Crawly always liked talking to him, safe in the knowledge that Aziraphale would always indulge him. And yes, sometimes Crawly would poke at sensitive subjects or tug at loose threads of hypocrisy that Heaven demonstrated because he still had some strong feelings about Heaven and their decisions, and the angel made a good target for those feelings. As long as Crawly didnāt push too far or blame Aziraphale directly for them. But none of that was the same thing as Aziraphale actively saving him. It was a huge and dangerous step from casual conversations with the enemy to rescuing said enemy from a Heaven-approved flood meant to kill almost every living being.
And Crawly couldnāt understand why Aziraphale would take that step. He didnāt know why he would take that risk.
On the other hand, this was the same angel who gave his sword to banished humans and later lied to Her about it. Maybe Aziraphaleās decision shouldnāt be that unexpected after all.
āI canāt save the humans. There were very strict orders about the current situation and I am not allowed to save or assist any human for any reason during the flood other than Noah and his family,ā said Aziraphale evenly, a tension in his body revealing his true feelings about the situation. āBut my orders didnāt say anything about helping a demon.ā
One of Aziraphaleās hands moved from holding Crawly to tracing its way across his chest, leaving a faint healing miracle behind. The ache in his chest and the burning rawness in his throat dulled away.
āAs for the kids,ā he continued, making Crawly stiffen, āI canāt save them by bringing them on board, even if I donāt understand why the Great Plan would involve their deaths. Ineffability and all that. I cannot go against Heavenās orders like a demon might. But I was commanded to protect and preserve the ark and every living being on board. And that would include any children that may or may not have been smuggled into the hold when I was looking somewhere else. Or even any demons who need a place to rest. All living beings on this ark are equally under my protection.ā
Something in Crawlyās chest loosened and relaxed at his words. Then he smiled. The clever and manipulative angel was both nicer and sneakier than Crawly thought. He didnāt think that he could have liked the angel more, but he continued to surprise him. Aziraphale had basically just admitted to twisting the rules to keep the children and Crawly safe. He wanted Crawly there.
Sitting in the rain, surrounded by deadly floodwaters, and the only living things left in the surrounding area currently packed together below themā¦ And yet Crawly couldnāt help smiling. Maybe things would be different once the weather passed and the water receded. But for now, he could stay with Aziraphale. And that felt right.
āIf you feel up to moving, how about we head down?ā suggested Aziraphale. āThat way I can keep an eye on the theoretically-smuggled children and a certain demon at the same time.ā
Still grinning, he said, āGetting out of this blessed weather? Sounds like a plan.ā
āAziraphale?ā asked Crowley, sprawled lazily on the fainting couch that evening like heād done regularly since the Apoca-Oops.
Looking up from his book, he asked, āYes?ā
It was a lazy day in general. The weather had been chilly and overcast since the day before, a constant drizzle driving most people indoors. No one wanted to be out in it unless they had no choice. The rain muffled the other sounds until it was easy to pretend that they were alone in the world. The bookshop held a cozy warmth that fogged up the windows, making it even easier to ignore the outside. And that warmth seeped into them. Making the angel and demon feel drowsy and comfortable. It was almost surprising that Crowley hadnāt gone to sleep already. Heād clearly been balanced on the brink of it for a while before deciding to break the silence.
āDo you remember the first time,ā asked Crowley slowly, turning his head to stare at the angel through his sunglasses, āthat you kissed me?ā
āWhat brought this on?ā he asked, setting the book down. āFeeling nostalgic?ā
Crowley shrugged, giving him a sideways smile. He twisted slightly on the couch. His new position didnāt look particularly comfortable or even possible for a normal spine, but it left one of his arms outstretched closer to Aziraphale and his chair.
āLetās see,ā said Aziraphale thoughtfully. āWas it back at our encounter in Persia? Kissing was a form of greetings between equals back then.ā
āNo. It was further back than that.ā
āWhen?ā
āThe first time that you kissed me was back on the ark,ā he said.
Aziraphale stared for a moment. Then realization sank in and he straightened in his chair, gaping slightly at the smirking demon.
āCrowley, that didnāt count as a kiss.ā
āTotally a kiss. Your lips were on my lips and everything.ā
āIt wasnāt a kiss. It was me apparently fumbling my way through inventing artificial respiration thousands of years before humans because you almost died from drowning.ā
āAbsolutely our first kiss, angel.ā
āYou canāt possibly remember anything about it. You werenāt even conscious.ā
āNeither was the girl in that one fairy tale. The one with the spinning wheel. That still counted as kissing. Was even good enough to break a curse in the movie version.ā
āCrowley,ā he said patiently, āyou threw up in my mouth. And I was trying to save your life. Iām sorry, but that doesnāt count as our first kiss.ā
Twisting around further until he was sitting up and leaning towards the angel, Crowley said, āI canāt believe youāre taking away our first kiss from me. Thatās just cruel.ā Smirking a little wider, he said, āI suppose youāll have to find a way to make it up to me somehow.ā
āI suppose thatās fair,ā said Aziraphale, standing up and moving towards the chair. Leaning over the demon, his hands framing Crowley on either side as the press into the cushions, he said, āI could replace it with a proper kiss. A real one. How does that sound?ā
Smiling up at him even as he gave short and awkward cough, Crowley said, āI guess I could live with that.ā
The rain continued to fall, tapping lightly on the windows and the roof in a steady pattern. But the angel and the demon barely noticed. And when the storm eventually ended, as all storms do, they still paid it no mind. All they cared about in that moment was being close to each other. And theyād long since decided that curling up together in a bookshop was far more pleasant than just kissing in the rain.
1 He wasnāt particularly fond of the name and didnāt think it exactly fit him. Eventually he would figure out a name that he liked better, but not quite yet. [ ā ]
2 It would be some time before the creation of actual holy water, just as demons had not yet learned to harness hellfire as a weapon against angels. If the Flood sent to drown the majority of humans had been truly holy water, the next several thousand years would be quite different due to the loss of a certain demon. But even if it was not āholy water,ā there was a certain amount of holy energy in the water due to its origins and purpose. [ ā ]
3 Loopholes and lying to Her were a slightly different matter. [ ā ]
4 He was. [ ā ]
5 Aziraphaleās mind immediately rebelled against the term, hating to even think about Crawly like that. [ ā ]
6 Not from his official allotment, but the resources that came from his celestial wages. They were more limited, but less scrutinized. [ ā ]