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It was a nice eve.
Crowley walked with determination towards the wine-berry-red building with golden letters above the windows. He was heading straight to the bookshop of his long-time companion, Aziraphale.
The demon ignored the ‘closed’ sign hanging in one of the windows and opened the door with a sweeping gesture. “Aziraphale, are you there?” Crowley asked urgently. Nobody answered, and the heavenly, comforting feeling he usually sensed when entering the bookshop was absent.
“Angel… where are you?” Crowley mumbled to himself as he closed the door and turned away from the bookshop. He scanned the street with his yellowish snake-like eyes, searching for the familiar face of his angel.
“At this time,” Crowley pulled out his pocket watch, “there’s only one place she could be.”
The demon hurried his way through the busy streets of Soho on this late May afternoon in 1813.
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He could smell his angel’s scent before his eyes were captivated by her graceful presence.
Crowley had developed a fondness for Aziraphale’s new appearance.
A few years ago, Aziraphale figured out it was time for an unlikely change, one that went beyond simply reorganizing his books. Aziraphale decided to adopt a more feminine appearance. Now the angel wore a dress, makeup, and longer curly hair, but Crowley liked his friend either way.
“I just prefer the women’s attire from this time period and the tea gossip,” she had explained her motivations in the past. “I would have never experienced such rumors and whispers with my previous appearance. Above all, the desserts served during the afternoon tea with the ladies are just worth the effort.”
‘Of course, I would find her here.’ Crowley thought, pulling himself away from his pleasant daydreams and adjusting his black sunglasses. Dressed in everything a stylish Regency-era gentleman would need, Crowley walked towards the angel with his slinky, confident stride.
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“Oh, Crowley, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Aziraphale exclaimed joyfully.
The Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden was holding a colorful paper bag filled with small cakes studded with fruits and flavored with rosewater and almonds.
“I just finished my afternoon tea and picked up these sweet treats for the way home. Would you like to join me?”
Aziraphale stepped down the last step of the stairs at Julia’s Chocolate House, where she was regularly engaged in tea-time gossip with the other fine ladies of the city.
“Angel, I need your help.”
“My dear, of course, I’ll help you. What’s the matter?”
“Great. Yeah, we don’t have much time. You’ll see it when we get there.”
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An angel and a demon rushed through the sunlit streets of London.
“How far is ‘it’?” the angel asked between breaths.
“Not too far, but we’ll have to walk a bit,” the demon replied.
“Could we... could we slow down a bit?” the angel’s cheeks turned red from exertion.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry,” Crowley apologized and immediately slowed down.
“Don’t be,” Aziraphale said, relieved by the more relaxing walking pace.
“So... how was your day? Couldn’t find you at your bookshop.”
“But you found me,” the angel smiled.
“...I always do,” the demon whispered softly.
“Well, my day started off pleasantly. I just had a few customers in the morning, so I decided...” Aziraphale began chatting quickly.
And Crowley listened attentively.
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“Furthermore, Lady Julia’s pastries and biscuits are just delicious, I have never ever tasted something like that before, she is the best in her craft...”
“We’re here.” Crowley interrupted and stopped abruptly.
“Wait...here??” Aziraphale blinked at him in surprise.
They were standing in front of one of the grand mansions, surrounded by a carefully tended garden.
A butler stood at the mansion’s entrance gate and studied a list of invited guests.
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“Good evening, Lord Crowley. I trust you are in good spirits. The ballroom awaits your presence this evening.” The butler greeted and bowed politely.
The butler, a young handsome man glanced over at Aziraphale.
“If I may inquire, is the lady accompanying you your intended bride, sir?”
“Er... yes, my intended.” Crowley hesitated.
Aziraphale swiftly turned her head in confusion towards Crowley, but he was only eyeing directly at the butler.
“Very well. Lady Clara is looking forward to your two arrivals. Please follow Mr. Timothy inside. He will take the utmost care of your garments.” The butler executed a deep bow and gestured towards another butler positioned just beyond the fence.
“Good evening, Lord Crowley and Lady Aziraphale. Please allow me to lead the way inside.”
Crowley and Aziraphale followed the butler in heavy silence.
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Lady Clara Beurmont’s magnificent Georgian mansion features an impressive entrance.
Crowley and Aziraphale stepped through the fancy front door and found themselves in a large foyer. The generous room had opulent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a floor made of pretty, detailed marble. At the heart of the foyer, a grand staircase gracefully descends, splitting into two majestic flights that lead to a breathtaking ballroom below.
“My Lady, may I please take care of your coat and your belongings?” asked butler Timothy.
Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, clutching her bag filled with her beloved cakes closer to her body. Nonetheless, she decided to trust the butler and handed them over.
Crowley assisted Aziraphale in removing her coat before handing both garments to the butler.
“Allow me to wish you both a most enjoyable evening at the ball, my lord and my lady.” He made an inviting hand gesture that pointed the way to the grand staircase.
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According to the lively murmur of conversation and the strains of music rising from the ballroom below, the ball was already full of people, and Aziraphale and Crowley were apparently the last guests to arrive.
However, Aziraphale had other intentions. Before they reached the luxurious staircase, she noticed a servant’s corridor and pulled Crowley and herself inside. The narrow corridor barely had enough room for the two of them, requiring them to stand intimately near, their bodies slightly touching each other.
“How am I supposed to help you with a ball?” she asked, upset. “You know I don’t dance, and extravagant celebrations are your thing. I am not even dressed properly for this Soiree; this is my everyday dress.”
“Angel, this ball is unlike the others. Have faith in me.” The demon smirked temptingly. “Besides, I don’t see any issue with your dress, but if you’d like, I can assist you with it. Would that satisfy you?”
Aziraphale paused for a moment, then pushed her worries aside and nodded.
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While an otherworldly sound filled the air, Crowley waved his hand up and down, causing Aziraphale’s appearance to magically change in response to his movement.
Aziraphale gazed downward to observe every detail of her apparel.
The angel was dressed in a pearl-white flowing silk dress with a high empire waistline, and the detailed flower embroidery added a touch of natural beauty to her gown.
She wore slip-on slippers just as white as the dress, which fit her feet elegantly. Her light blonde hair was styled in a romantic half-up, allowing her curls to flow freely, while delicate long gloves made her look both enchanting and graceful.
“My dear... that is beautiful.” Aziraphale whispered fascinated.
“Wait... it is not finished yet.”
Crowley snapped his left fingers in the air and a single red rose appeared. He placed it carefully in Aziraphale’s half-pinned hair.
The angel’s eyes widened in excitement and her anger and insecurities had faded away.
She inspected Crowley’s fancy black attire and his dark spectacles but he already was dressed appropriately for the occasion.
“You know what would fit perfectly with this?” Aziraphale said, mimicking the same hand movement, and a white rose manifested itself.
She pinned the flower fondly to the lapel of Crowley’s brocade coat.
“Satisfied?” Crowley looked down into her ethereal blue eyes.
“Tip-top," Aziraphale smiled.
“Shall we proceed to the ball now? Are you still willing to help me?” asked Crowley slowly.
“Yes... I will.” sighed the Angel.
“Excellent,” the demon grinned. “Let’s have a blast.”
He carefully led Aziraphale and himself back out into the foyer.
“I am surprised. You didn’t mention being displeased at being addressed as my intended bride.”
“Crowley!! I’m doing this only because I owe you a favor. I would definitely not tolerate this otherwise!” Aziraphale explained offended and hid her true feelings.
“Thank you, Angel. I appreciate that,” he answered with a knowing smile.
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At the top of the staircase, the splendor of the festively decorated ballroom was already visible.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the room and together with the wall sconces they made the golden hall sparkle.
Lilacs in all their color variations were placed in exquisite vases throughout the grand hall, filling the air with a warm fragrance. Meanwhile a chamber orchestra played soft music to create a pleasant atmosphere.
Swift butlers moved around, serving guests with sparkling drinks and delicious treats from the extravagant buffet. The noble guests were mostly young lords and ladies, with only a few elderly women among those present.
While going down the grand staircase, Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, “Why exactly are we at Lady Clara’s estate? I heard from the other ladies that her husband recently passed away, and tonight the Lilacs Ball of the season is being held.”
“You got it, Angel. That’s why we’re here, but let her explain.” Crowley whispered back and guided them straight through the crowd toward Lady Clara.
“Lord Crowley!” A young woman friendly waved them over. She wore a fancy light blue dress, complemented by long white gloves. Her golden, curly hair was elegantly held away from her face by an ornate hairpin adorned with sapphires.
“I’m delighted to see you here,” Lady Clara expressed her happiness warmly. “Without you, this ball and everything else you assisted me wouldn’t have been possible. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“I apologize for my lack of manners,” she continued turning her attention to Aziraphale “If my assumption is correct, you must be Lady Aziraphale, Crowley’s bride-to-be?” Aziraphale nodded slightly overwhelmed, and Lady Clara smiled. “I’m genuinely thrilled to meet you in person. My warmest congratulations to you both on your betrothal.” She gently took Aziraphale’s hands in hers.
Aziraphale was flushed from the enthusiastic welcome and the warm congratulations.
“Lady Clara, I am grateful for…” she glanced briefly at Crowley, “the invitation and your kind wishes. I also offer my condolences for your loss. But I assume your mourning period is over?”
The young Lady’s expression darkened for a fleeting moment, so brief that Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure if she had seen it.
“Yes, my mourning period is over. The sudden demise of my ‘beloved’ husband is behind me. He wasn’t the youngest anymore, and the last flu wave at the beginning of spring proved stronger than him. But let’s not dwell on the past; better times await us. Lord Crowley,” Lady Clara turned back to him, “the appointment with the queen, it was a success.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I cannot express how deeply indebted I am to you, and I am overjoyed by the words you spoke on my behalf to the queen and your efforts,” she said with deep respect.
Aziraphale looked up in curiosity at Crowley.
“Lady Clara, it was my pleasure. Please, you don’t owe me anything. You know why I did it,” he replied, somewhat embarrassed.
“Yes,” Lady Clara smiled radiantly. “I am just so glad that my daughters and I will now inherit my husband’s title and estates. It’s the first instance where this has happened to a woman or her daughters, sanctioned by the queen. Now, I no longer have to worry about my daughters’ future, and I’m not obliged to remarry. We can live our lives freely without a lord in the house making life unbearable. Thank you.” She curtsied deeply.
Now Aziraphale gazed at Crowley with awe. ‘He does something like this? That is very kind and not very demon-like at all, to intervene in the strict inheritance process and influence the queen, all to help a woman gain independence?’
“Now that the most special person of the day is here, it is time to dance!” Lady Clara announced the last part loudly to everyone.
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The musicians began playing a smooth and flowing melody, and the crowd gathered on the dance floor.
“I can’t dance,” Aziraphale confessed after Lady Clara had moved on to her dance partner.
“You can. Do you trust me?” the demon replied.
“Yes, my dear, always.”
“Then just take my hand and follow my lead,” Crowley extended his hand towards the angel.
With a touch of shyness, the angel accepted the tempting invitation to dance, once again placing her trust in the demon.
Aziraphale felt the warmth from Crowley’s hand on her waist, their intertwined fingers, and his gaze upon her.
Her heartbeat began to quicken within her, and it was almost the only thing she could hear.
‘Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush,’ she repeated in her mind, but it was already too late for her cheeks to obey her.
“Now,” Crowley whispered in a raspy voice and the angel’s attention was drawn back to reality, back to the demon right in front of her. His molten-gold eyes gleamed through his darkened sunglasses and fixed on hers. The angel only realized the music from the orchestra just now, while the demon took a step closer to her and guided their way through the dancing couples.
Aziraphale’s heart started to beat in time with her beloved classic music, and she felt the rhythm in her movements. Her body synchronized with Crowley’s steps, and she gained more and more trust with every dance move.
As they danced, Aziraphale realized that she not only enjoyed it but also had a deep passion for it, and with each successive turn, her body filled with excitement.
The angel smiled and her eyes sparkled, nearly blinding Crowley with her radiant divine beauty. He knew her smile only was meant for him alone.
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During the second dance, a slower melody allowed the Angel to regain her voice, and she felt confident enough to ask her questions.
“I assume it was your demonic intervention that made the queen grant Lady Clara’s request?”
“Yup, well, I simply made a small contribution, strengthening the already existing courage and igniting the desire for social change. However, Lady Clara believes I spoke favorably of her to the queen, but the reality is that the real energy came from them.”
“Is that why she invited you?” the angel asked carefully.
“Lady Clara mentioned that if her appointment with the English monarchy went well, she’d host the Lilac Ball as a celebration. This morning, I received the invitation, for me... and my bride,” the demon smirked.
Aziraphale laughed nervously, “Why did Lady Clara assume you were engaged?”
“Uhm, well... She presumed I assisted her due to y-...”, he cleared his throat briefly. “...My bride. She assumed I was going to marry and believed that I aimed to empower women in order to bolster my wife’s rights.” He took a breath and continued. “After her husband died, not that anyone was particularly broken up about it, she was, understandably, rather desperate about her future. I met her then. She learned I had a few connections at court and decided to make use of them. I simply happened to be in a position to make things easier.”
“But why all of this? It doesn’t seem very demon-like,” Aziraphale said, still confused.
“You think so?” Crowley replied, tilting his head slightly. “Wouldn’t it be very demon-like to help dismantle the patriarchy, upset a great many conservative gentlemen, and sow a bit of chaos into the structure of society? At least Hell would think so.”
“And what are your beliefs?”
“I believe…” he paused, his gaze lingering on his Angel’s clear, azure eyes. “I have a friend I want to support. She runs a bookshop, but she is not legally allowed to own it. She has to pretend to be the founder’s daughter just to be alone inside, to read, and to work in peace. I would like her dream, to own her bookshop in her own right, even as a woman, to become possible. So perhaps I’ve merely… sparked a small idea of change in human society.”
“Oh, Crowley...,” Aziraphale leaned her head against his chest while dancing, her eyes overflowing with tears of joy.
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After a long evening of dancing, the angel sank down onto one of the padded chairs at the edge of the dance floor, utterly exhausted.
The ballroom had emptied as the night grew later, and Aziraphale and Crowley were among the last remaining guests.
Soon, Crowley had claimed the other chair at the small tea table and settled in comfortably. He had fetched a glass of red wine and pushed a small plate of sweet pastries toward Aziraphale.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, her tired eyes still sparkling with delight.
“So, how was your first time attending a dancing ball?” Crowley asked, taking a generous sip from his gold-rimmed glass.
“It was wonderful,” she replied. “I never expected to have so much fun or that an angel could enjoy it quite so much. But I suspect my feet will be the death of me soon.” She took a bite of a biscuit.
“What’s wrong with your feet?” he asked.
“They hurt,” the angel admitted with a shy laugh.
“Why don’t you just miracle the injury away?”
Aziraphale hesitated. “I don’t know… it just feels like…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I want to keep it this way, because it reminds me of my first dance. I’ve never danced like that before, obviously, and it holds a very special memory. I don’t want to change that, even if it hurts a little. It would feel like erasing the fact that I ever danced at all.”
“I see,” the demon said with a gentle, understanding smile.
Crowley found himself smiling more often in the company of his angel than he cared to admit, and he had noticed it. ‘However,’ he thought, ‘this was not the time to think about what it meant.’
Aziraphale’s words brought Crowley back to the reality.
“The other ladies I know were quite surprised to see me here,” Aziraphale confessed. “They took the opportunity to speak with me while you were briefly away with Lady Clara. I have always told them I never attend the season’s balls, which was true until today. So, their surprise was rather justified.”
The angel gave a small chuckle. “They were even more speechless to see me dancing with a man. I must admit, they were rather skeptical, and quite curious as to who I was dancing with.”
“What did you tell them?” Crowley asked, trying to conceal his heightened curiosity.
“I... I told them you are my...” Aziraphale stuttered, her face turning red.
“That’s a lady’s secret,” the Angel tried to rescue herself from the situation.
“Mmmhm,” Crowley hummed, a faint note of disappointment in it at not hearing ‘my intended husband’ from her lips, and leaned back in his chair once again.
“How did your conversations go?” Aziraphale asked, attempting to shift the subject.
“Lady Clara has kindly invited both of us for a stroll in St James’s Park next Saturday, my bride and me. Would you like to accept the invitation?”
“Yes, absolutely,” she said with enthusiasm. “A walk in the park with Lady Clara sounds wonderful.”
“She’s bringing her three daughters as well. You’ll love them.”
“Ah, yes…” the angel said, pausing briefly in thought. “Charlotte, Emma, and Eleanor. I am looking forward to meeting them.” Crowley could see the excitement in her eyes.
“Lady Clara seems like a fine lady,” Aziraphale continued.
“She definitely is. You’ll appreciate her even more when I tell you that the desserts you’re enjoying are from Julia’s Chocolate House, it’s her favourite pastry shop,” the demon added.
“Hmmm! That’s why they taste so familiar,” Aziraphale said, clearly delighted, and finished the last remaining treat with visible pleasure.
“Well,” Crowley said, glancing around the now nearly empty ballroom, “would you prefer to leave, or would you like one last dance?”
“Ohhh,” Aziraphale laughed softly, playful. “I would certainly love to dance, but I don’t think my feet would allow it. So, I suppose it’s time to go home.” Her voice softened, tinged with regret.
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Aziraphale and Crowley stood up and made their way toward one of the staircases, where Lady Clara was bidding farewell to her guests.
“Lady Aziraphale, Lord Crowley, it has been a pleasure having you both at the ball. I look forward to seeing you in St James’s Park next Saturday,” she said, smiling warmly at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale and Crowley said their goodbyes to Lady Clara, confirming their attendance for the gathering on Saturday, before finally making their way home.
“Thank you for your help tonight,” the demon said as they climbed the stairs.
“You’re welco- ouch!” the angel gasped.
“What...” the demon swiftly turned back to his angel.
She was clinging tightly to the stair railing.
“My feet hurt more when I walk up the stairs. I just need a little more time to climb them,” she explained, taking a breath.
The demon did not hesitate and offered her his arm for support. “I’ll make sure you get home safely,” he said quietly.
With Crowley’s assistance, the stairs were no problem for the angel.
In the foyer, Butler Timothy awaited them and handed over their belongings, wishing them farewell.
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As the heavy doors of Lady Clara’s mansion closed behind them, Crowley continued to support Aziraphale as they walked down the garden path toward the dimly lit street.
“I am sorry. I can’t take another step. I just need a short break, and then...”
“Those shoes... Angel, I’m sorry," Crowley interrupted gently. “I miracled brand-new shoes for your gown and forgot that dancing shoes should be worn at least a day before dancing all night... I just thought they would look good on you...” The demon sounded genuinely overwhelmed by guilt.
“Crowley, I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”
He looked down at the angel clinging to his arm, deep in thought.
“Angel,” Crowley sighed. “I can only think of one solution if we’re not going to heal your pain...” With quiet strength and surprising ease, he lifted her into his arms, holding her close in a gentle embrace. “Would that be acceptable, angel?” he asked softly.
Aziraphale was surprised by the sudden change, finding herself in Crowley’s strong arms, their faces near each other.
“Y… yes!” she stammered, as she was carried by Crowley, feeling his warmth against her. The fresh night air was the only thing cooling her flushed cheeks.
“Hold your sweet treats tightly; we don’t want to lose them,” Crowley whispered in a dark voice, reminding Aziraphale of their paper bag from the chocolate house.
“...Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, gazing up at him. All she could see was her kind-hearted demon framed by the starry night sky above his head.
So, an angel in the arms of a demon made their way back home, and the streets of the town seemed paved with stars.
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After a midnight stroll through the heart of London, Aziraphale and Crowley reached the doorstep of the homely bookshop.
The doors opened and closed magically as they stepped inside together, and dimmed lights illuminated the interior.
“I’m grateful for your assistance. You can put me down please; I’m back home now.” Aziraphale mentioned while still being in Crowley’s arms.
“Sorry, but I’d prefer to carry you a little further inside,” the demon replied. “Somewhere you can actually rest, not at the entrance. You can choose the spot.”
The angel took a moment to consider.
“In fact, there’s a place that has been on my mind, something I’ve wanted to show you for some time now. Would you mind going upstairs, please?” Aziraphale asked kindly.
Carrying Aziraphale in his arms, Crowley effortlessly climbed the dark iron spiral staircase to the first floor.
The equally cozy living area opened into more rooms, additional bookshelves, and floors covered with soft carpets.
“So... where should I set you down? Bathroom? Bedroom...?” He asked, pretending complete innocence.
“Look dear, there’s a hidden rope behind the books. Could you please go over there?”, she said, pointing to a corner of the hallway.
“R...rope?” he blinked, puzzled.
It was only then that he noticed the hidden door leading to the attic, as Crowley carried Aziraphale over to the concealed cord.
“Please step aside,” the angel asked, reaching for the rope. With a careful pull, a folding staircase unfolded, leading up into a dark attic.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to climb the stairs alone,” Aziraphale said with an apologetic tone.
“But only for the ladder,” Crowley advised, gently setting Aziraphale back on the floor.
The angel climbed the folding staircase with quiet confidence, closely followed by Crowley.
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Upon reaching the top of the ladder, Crowley found it hard to believe that even more books and ancient scrolls were stacked here, surpassing even the already overcrowded bookshop below.
The vast chamber was briefly covered in a thin layer of dust, which Aziraphale swiftly miracled away.
Now free of dust and bathed in a gentle glow, Crowley could observe the large attic more closely.
Bookshelves, rolled-up carpets, old pendulum clocks, cabinets likely filled with even more books, lamps of all sizes, antique statues and vases, ladders, small tables, and chandeliers resting on the floor, it was, in short, complete chaos.
Yet one area of the attic was surprisingly orderly. A daybed stood beneath the only window, a large glass dome, offering a clear view of the night sky. Beside it stood a telescope, carefully positioned for observing celestial objects.
“I actually wanted to show you this once I’ve tidied everything up,” Aziraphale said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
The angel attempted to take another step forward, but Crowley was quicker and lifted her into his arms once more.
“Really? It’s not far at all.”
“I’ll feel less guilty about the shoes then,” he replied with a grin.
“Alright,” the angel sighed.
Crowley carried Aziraphale to the cozy-looking daybed and carefully set her down, placing her with the utmost gentleness. He then sat down at the edge of the bed.
Aziraphale placed her coat and the slightly crushed paper bag of pastries onto a small table beside the bed before reclining comfortably.
“I didn’t know you liked stargazing,” Crowley noted, nodding towards the telescope.
“It’s a secret interest I’ve treasured for myself,” she said with a blush.
“That sounds wonderful,” he replied, his tone filled with genuine curiosity. “Is that what you wanted to show me?”
“Not quite…” She lightly patted the right side of the bed, inviting Crowley to join her.
Silently, Crowley removed his dark coat and tossed it onto another table. He then placed his sunglasses on an ancient figurine on the same table. Afterward, he sank down smoothly beside Aziraphale on the bed.
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“What do you want to show me, angel?” the demon asked innocently.
Aziraphale turned onto her side to get a clearer view of Crowley.
It was the first time she could gaze directly into his eyes - warm, yellow, serpentine eyes that only she was allowed to see without his glasses.
“Not to show you, exactly… I had a question for you,” she said slowly.
“Go ahead,” he replied in a low voice.
“You know… I tend to come up here during the full moon to gaze at the starry sky or read in the moonlight,” she explained hesitantly.
“However, I always find myself wondering about the part of the night sky you created. I remember it so clearly, it was the very first time we crossed paths, and whenever I close my eyes…” She paused, gently closing them. “I can still picture it, your gorgeous nebular creation and your radiant smile.” Aziraphale smiled softly with her eyes still closed.
Crowley listened to every word in silence.
“So, I can’t help but wonder,” she continued, opening her eyes again, “where I might be able to see your nebula from Earth. Perhaps I’ve been gazing at it all along without realizing…” She looked at him questioningly.
He remained silent for a moment, but then his gaze softened.
“Back on the day we first met, it was just one of many nebulas I created. Humans call it the Carina Nebula, but unfortunately, we can’t see it from London. We could observe it in Egypt if we ever return there,” he explained.
“But I can show you something else, if you’d like.” He turned off the dim light with a snap.
Without the light, the night sky above them became even more visible.
“I’d love to," she said, her voice bright with excitement.
“In the constellation known as Serpens, you can observe the Eagle Nebula I also brought into existence. It’s visible from the Northern Hemisphere, but you’ll need to adjust your view, the best time to see Serpens is during summer.” Crowley tilted his head slightly and pointed into the sky. “You should look in that direction. The serpent is faintly visible, but it’s possible.”
The angel moved closer to Crowley and rested her head on his shoulder to find the right angle for stargazing.
“Can you see the Serpens head and tail? They form a line of stars interrupted by the Serpent Bearer. By the way, it wasn’t my idea to name the stars like that, and the whole concept of the Serpent Bearer interrupting the snake doesn’t make sense to me.” He sighed softly.
“Yes, I can see it!” the angel exclaimed.
“Unfortunately, you can’t see the Eagle Nebula with the naked eye, but when you’re back at your telescope, you’ll be able to locate it,” he continued.
“How exciting! I’ve seen the serpent many times on warm summer nights. Now I realize that this part of the night sky feels even more connected to you.” She whispered the last part, looking at him, enchanted.
This time, it was Crowley who blushed. An excited angel cuddled against his shoulder, so openly delighted by his creation, it was almost too much for the usually grumpy demon.
“Can you tell me more about the Carina and Eagle Nebula?” she asked curiously.
Crowley took a steadying breath to regain control of his flushed face and began to speak.
The angel listened in wonder. But her aching feet and the exhaustion from the long evening of dancing soon weighed on her, and her eyes grew heavier and heavier, until she finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.
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Aziraphale woke up to the soft morning sunlight. She was lying snugly in her bed in the attic and looked around. Disappointed, she realized she had woken up alone. On the bedside table, there was only her coat and a slightly crumpled paper bag. No dark coat or black glasses in sight, no Crowley.
The angel pushed aside the blanket, a little puzzled to find it in the attic, as she didn’t recall having brought one up there. She then sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Surprised, she realized she had fallen asleep in her fancy gown and shoes. ‘These cursed shoes… or should I thank them instead?’, she quickly dismissed the thought.
The moment she stepped out of bed, the pain in her feet returned. ‘I urgently need cream and bandages for these, but do I even have any here? Other injuries can be magically healed, but this one should remain.’ She smiled as she looked down at her feet.
‘Danced all night, quite unusual for an angel. I hope God was busy and didn’t witness what happened,’ she quickly prayed.
Aziraphale descended the attic ladder and closed the roof door behind her.
‘I’d love a cup of tea, but first, I should change out of these clothes,’ she thought as she walked into her bedroom.
Touched, she noticed her everyday clothes neatly stacked on her bed. “Oh, Crowley...” she sighed happily. A small smile lingered on her face a moment longer than she cared to admit before she finally looked away from the neatly folded clothes. He must have used his miracle to bring them here the night before.
The angel slipped out of her elegant but tight shoes and dress. As she set them aside, they quietly vanished forever. ‘That’s the drawback of magically sustained clothing when you don’t maintain the miracle,’ she mused. Still, she was all the more pleased that she had her clothes custom-made by the tailor.
She put on her regular dress but left her shoes off for a while to give her feet some rest.
She looked into the large floor-length mirror beside her bed. A melancholic angel stared back at her. She examined her hairstyle one last time before gently pulling the red rose from her hair.
Aziraphale held the flower in her hand, waiting for it to disappear like the rest of her gown. However, it remained.
“That’s unlikely,” she murmured aloud.
An ordinary rose from Earth would have shown visible signs of wilting after such a long time without water, and after an entire night had passed, yet this one remained perfect.
‘What kind of miracle did he perform?’, she wondered in quiet admiration, as she carefully examined the red flower.
The rose carried an enchanting sweet fragrance, reminiscent of the Garden of Eden in full bloom.
After a while, she took a small glass vase from her cupboard and placed the rose inside. She looked around the room for the perfect place to put it… and finally, satisfied, set it beside the books on her nightstand.
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One day, shortly after Armageddidn’t:
Crowley walked past his exclusive version, custom-made just for him, of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ painting. Hidden behind the painting, a safe was built into the grey concrete wall, protecting an eternal white rose, a treasure he never spoke of.
He reached for his Bentley keys and hurried his way to his angel’s bookshop.
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Epilogue
Crowley looked at Aziraphale over the rim of his sunglasses. “Do you remember Lady Clara?” he asked casually. “The woman who was the first to manage to secure inheritance rights for her three daughters.”
Aziraphale glanced up from his book, slightly confused, as though being pulled away from somewhere far off. “Pardon?” he asked, blinking.
“Lady Clara,” Crowley repeated, slower this time, while lounging in an armchair, his long legs draped over one armrest in an elegant, effortless manner. “From the 18th century.”
“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said after a brief pause, nodding. “Of course.”
Crowley continued. “One of her descendants came into the bookshop while you were out buying new tea. A young German woman, she had a striking resemblance to her ancestor.”
That immediately caught Aziraphale’s attention. “Did she want to buy something?” he asked at once, suddenly alert, glancing around the bookshop as if to check whether any of his beloved books were missing.
“No,” Crowley replied with a small amused snort. “She was simply browsing through the old books. Innocently. Like a respectable human.” He paused briefly, then went on. “The interesting part is that she was there with a descendant of the bakery lady Ju-”
“Julia’s Chocolate House!” Aziraphale interrupted immediately, his face lighting up with recognition. “Yes, I remember that very clearly. Her… and her bakeries.” For a moment, a fond, dreamy expression crossed his face as he briefly drifted into memory.
Crowley watched him for a beat longer than necessary, then leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Humans are funny,” he said at last, quieter now. “They always seem to find each other… always those who belong together.”
He said it lightly, almost dismissively, as if it meant nothing at all, though the words lingered a little longer in the air than they should have.