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Smoke. That was what Crawley saw first, rising up to the skies, coating the warm and humid air in steady waves.
There were people all around him, running to see the source of the smoke, talking loudly amongst themselves, shouting orders. It was chaos.
Crawley found himself being dragged along with the rest of the humans, his curiosity piqued. He had always been a curious creature, and had paid dearly for it in the past, but he simply couldn’t help it. It was his nature, who he was. If he saw rising smoke, of course he was going to investigate.
Well, curiosity killed the cat. Or the demon, in this case.
Because what he saw in front of him was a horrible sight. A fire, bigger than he had seen on Earth in a long while. The scorching flames completely surrounded the huge building, it didn’t even stand a chance against this blazing inferno. It was spreading, had burnt down everything in its path. Judging by the trail of blackened buildings of the bustling city, Crawley assumed the fire had started down at the docks. Someone must’ve set the ships on fire. But it hadn’t stayed contained.
Humans were running, screaming, coughing from the smoke as they tried to cover their noses and mouths with the flowy fabric of their clothes, yelling at each other to get away from the fair and move to safety.
The Great Library of Alexandria was burning.
Correction– it had burnt. The fire was still going on, strong as if it had just started. But the building had already lost the battle, the parchment papers and scrolls had only fueled the fire, it seemed. Flames and smoke were tearing out of every window, and judging from the ash and debris strewn around, it must have been almost an explosion here.
The most heart-wrenching of it all wasn’t even the people trying to get away from the fire. It was people who were trying to run towards it. Old scholars who had lost the scrolls they needed for their studies, people who had friends and families inside the building when the fire had started.
Some had managed to get out, coughing and charred, barely able to stand. There was a man being carried, who seemed to have lost consciousness. Crawley could barely distinguish the sounds of people screaming.
“Stand back!” a man was yelling, pushing people away from the building. They were trying to get everyone to safety before the fire could spread any further and block them in. The scrambling people were knocking into Crawley, causing him to stumble to find his balance again. “Run!”
A woman fell onto her knees, unable to move passed the man standing in front of her. “Please,” she was begging, tears falling down her face. “My son! He’s in there!”
Crawley couldn’t hear the man’s response, but it didn’t require much imagination to figure out. The woman’s scream ripped through the street, audible even over the incessant sounds of the crowd.
Crawley turned his head away, unable to look any longer. He knew very few of the families who had loved ones inside the library would ever see them again.
“No!” A distraught shout echoed from behind him, a voice he would have known anywhere, and Crawley turned to face its direction.
It was too crowded to see, people kept knocking into one another; they stumbled and fell, almost got trampled in the crush. There was still shouting and crying. The smoke was getting so dark and dense that Crawley could barely see what was in front of him.
But there it was. A familiar shade of pale blond hair peeking through the crowd that Crawley could hardly spot. Everything was moving too fast, but at the same time, life seemed to be on pause.
Aziraphale.
Of course he would be here too. They seemed to cross paths more often than not, even though they had very different assignments most of the time. They usually found themselves at the same location, around the same people, every couple of decades.
And now, Aziraphale was here, witnessing perhaps the greatest source of knowledge humans had managed to gather getting burnt into ashes.
Understandably, he must not be happy about it.
Neither was Crawley. He was the farthest thing from happy at that moment. Every few centuries, something terrible happened, killing off so many humans, destroying all their progress. And Crawley had to be there to watch it all. Hell, he even got a fucking commendation for it most of the time. Still, it never made it any easier, watching disaster after disaster, over again. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many casualties.
Because, as shameful as it is for a demon to admit, that was what he cared about. All those humans that died because in wars they weren’t even a part of, they didn’t even want to start. Civilians. Innocents.
And he knew Aziraphale cared about the humans, too. He knew. Angels weren’t supposed to question the Almighty’s plan. Whatever happened on Earth, good or bad, happened for a reason. And if innocent, good people died… well, it was just gathering the souls for the inevitable end to come. But he knew that, deep down, Aziraphale disagreed. Crawley had seen the saddened look on his face whenever some atrocity was committed on Earth. Aziraphale would be just as upset over the lives lost in the fire as Crawley was. They just both had their reasons not to show it.
Crawley knew this also meant something else for Aziraphale, too; something more personal. The angel had always been fascinated with parchments, scrolls, and clay tablets since the moment humans had invented writing. He enjoyed reading them, and not always for the knowledge they held, but for entertainment as well. And now, the very building that held many of those scrolls was burning down.
Through the crowd, he could see Aziraphale trying to run to the building. But there were too many people, and they were blocking his path. He could hear Aziraphale’s voice commanding them to let him through, but to no avail.
Crawley hadn’t consciously decided to do it, but his body was starting to move towards Aziraphale, elbowing the people in his way, all those running, screaming people, as he was trying to clear a path for himself. A path that led to Aziraphale.
“Angel!” he called out when he was close enough, his voice loud to be heard through the noise. “Aziraphale!”
But Aziraphale was trying to push past the man that was in front of him, a soldier who had been tasked to protect the city. Well, hadn’t that failed spectacularly?
“Aziraphale!” he tried again, but Aziraphale was completely deaf to Crawley shouting his name, entirely focused ahead. Crawley almost got knocked over by a group of people, as he tried to move closer. Close enough to hear the conversation between that man and Aziraphale.
“You can’t go there!” the man was saying. “Are you out of your fucking mind?! If you get in, you won’t make it out alive.”
Crawley couldn’t see Aziraphale’s face, approaching from behind. But he could see the tensionin his posture.
“But I have to!” There was a hysterical tone to Aziraphale’s voice. It was pitched higher than what Crawley had ever heard from him, and there was something raw and coarse behind it. Was he crying?
“There is nothing left in there!” the man protested. “Everything has burnt down.” But Aziraphale was hearing none of it. He lunged forward in an attempt to move past him once again, but the man grabbed him tight by the arm.
“Let me go!”
“Do you have a deathwish, you fool? You’ll die!”
Aziraphale was struggling in his grip, still determined to move forward, but the soldier was sticking to his job.
“Let him go!” Crawley intervened, pushing the man away, as he was forced to loosen his grip on Aziraphale’s arm. “Enough. Go deal with other people, I’m handling this.”
“But–“
“I said I’m handling thisss.” There was a moment's pause, and then the man’s eyes widened, as Crawley’s serpentine eyes flashed brighter, threatening him. The man scurried off, mumbling apologies.
From the corner of his eye, Crawley saw Aziraphale trying to move away again, and in a moment, it was him blocking his path now.
“Angel,” he said, softer now that they were close enough to hear each other.
This time, he did manage to get Aziraphale’s attention. “Crawley?” There was confusion in his eyes; he mustn’t have been expecting to see Crawley there.
“Yep. It’s me. Listen, we need to get the Hell away from here. What do you think you’re doing, trying to run into the fire?”
“But– but the scrolls…”
“Aziraphale…” Crawley’s voice grew even softer, barely audible now. “There’s probably nothing left. It’s all gone. I’m sorry…”
He saw Aziraphale’s bottom lip quivering. The flames were casting their reflections on his face, painting it an orange hue. “You don’t know that…”
“I do know it. Angel, it’s paper. It burns.”
“You can’t know for certain,” Aziraphale protested, shaking his head. “I need to go in. There might be something left that I can salvage.”
And with that, he turned his back to Crawley, parting people easier now that their numbers were steadily decreasing. He could even run now.
“Aziraphale!” Crawley called out, starting to run after him. When he grabbed his wrist, Aziraphale stopped. “You can’t go in there! You’ll discorporate!”
“But I have to try!” There were tears gathered in Aziraphale’s eyes when he snapped his head back towards him. “Please. You don’t understand. This is hundreds of years worth of scrolls gathered together. I need to save them. I need–“ His words were cut off by a sob, and he collapsed onto his knees on the ground.
Crawley knelt next to him, placing a tentative hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He really hated seeing Aziraphale so upset. “Fine. I’ll help you. You’re not going in there on your own.”
Aziraphale’s head lifted up at the words, his teary eyes glimmering with something akin to hope. Crawley had to resist the urge to cup his face and wipe away the tears on his cheeks.
“You’ll… help me?”
“Yeah. But we’re doing this my way. Nobody’s running into the fire.”
“Your way?”
Crawley just nodded, closing his eyes and focusing hard, as he tried to block out every outside sound. And in a moment or two, the noises stopped.
When he opened his eyes again, the flames weren’t moving anymore. The remaining people had frozen mid-step, one foot in the air as they ran.
Time had stopped.
…
As Crawley had expected, everything inside the library was ash when they entered. The frozen flames might not be burning them, but the heat was still there. It was hung in the air along with the smoke, and it was making it hard to breathe.
Hard to concentrate, too.
If he slipped up, they would both discorporate in this hellhole, and he didn’t even want to imagine how he would explain that to his superiors.
So, he did his best to keep a tight control on the temporal thread, never allowing his grip on it to loosen, as he helped Aziraphale through the rubble, checking charred paper after charred paper.
Everything they touched was crumbling in their hands. It was hopeless.
And it was painful to see the slightest hint of hope on Aziraphale’s face fading away with each passing moment.
Crawley wished he could do something, anything, to help. To make this all better somehow. To make Aziraphale feel better.
That’s when he spotted it. In a far corner of the library, there were a few scrolls that had fallen to the floor. And judging by the way Crawley could easily tell they were scrolls, they had to be in relatively good condition.
He knelt down next to them, holding one in his hands. And just as he hoped, it didn’t turn into ashes. The paper was rather charred along the edges, but most of the text was still legible.
After making sure that the rest of his findings were in a similar condition, Crawley called out to Aziraphale. “Hey, angel! Look over here!”
…
Unfortunately, they weren’t able to find many other scrolls like those. What they managed to save was nothing more than a handful, and a few loose pages here and there. It was so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. In comparison to all that had been lost.
And yet, Aziraphale didn’t seem quite as distraught as he had looked when he had first seen the fire.
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, as they left the burning building, and as Crawley finally let go of his grip on time. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, though he felt completely drained afterwards.
“No big deal,” he said, as casually as he could. “What’s a bit of walking into a fire between an angel and a demon?”
“No. I’m being serious,” Aziraphale insisted, as they continued walking away. “You didn’t have to help me. You didn’t have to freeze time for me. Really, it was so nice—“
“Stop right there!” Crawley interrupted. “I’m not ‘nice’. I’m a–“ A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and he stumbled, being saved from falling down by a stabilizing arm securely wrapped around his waist.
“Crawley? Are you okay?”
He tried to shrug dismissively, like his face hadn’t warmed up at all due to having Aziraphale’s arm around him. “It’s nothing. Just stopping time and all that. Takes a bit out of you.”
“Do you need to sit down?” Aziraphale actually looked a little concerned. Concerned for a demon, huh? Imagine that.
“Don’t worry about me. But yeah, let's get as far away from this place right now. I can tell the whole thing was… a lot for you.” They were both exhausted for different reasons, and he wanted to keep Aziraphale company, not wanting him to be alone while he was upset. “How about I treat you to some dinner?”
“Thank you, Crawley,” Aziraphale gave him a weak smile. “That would be lovely.”
…
As it turned out, Aziraphale didn’t really have much of an appetite. And Crawley rarely ate, so they ended up just having a few drinks, and then proceeding to sit on the steps outside the taverna.
The silence was rather uncomfortable until Aziraphale finally broke it.
“I loved that place, you know,” he said quietly, and Crawley didn’t need to ask which place he was talking about. The fire was still occupying both of their minds. Crawley wasn’t even sure if they had managed to put it out yet.
“I know, angel,” Crawley’s voice was soft, and he gently placed a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder after a moment of hesitation. He was trying to be comforting, even though he felt slightly awkward. He was a demon, comforting people wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to do. Scratch that– it wasn’t what he was supposed to do at all.
“All those scrolls, everything that was written–“ Aziraphale choked up, and then, just burst into sobs, covering his face with his hands.
Crawley didn’t know what to do. He just kept his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and let him cry. It was heartbreaking. Those responsible for his pain and tears needed to pay.
He sat there patiently, hoping his presence was at least a little comforting. And after what felt like forever, Aziraphale’s tears stopped.
“I was there just yesterday.” Aziraphale’s voice was hoarse, and a single tear rolled down his cheek again. “I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe it’s all gone now. I can’t believe people are capable of such evil and destruction.”
Crawley could believe it. He had seen many horrible things. And Aziraphale had seen them too. But he supposed Aziraphale was still choosing to believe that all people were, deep down, good.
Crawley had lost that belief long ago.
“Wait a second–“ Aziraphale was looking at him now, eyes wide and teary. “What were you doing there? Was it your demonic work? Did you do this?!”
Crawley froze at the accusation, letting his hand that was still resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder now fall to the side, as he felt his heart getting crushed in his chest. “Everything’s my fault, isn’t it? Always,” he scoffed, but the slight tremor in his voice was giving away the fact that he was hurt. “Good to know you don’t trust me at all…”
“You’re a demon. You’re working for Hell. How can I trust you?” Aziraphale sounded both desperate and accusing at the same time. He looked as if he was hoping to find out his accusation was false.
“Demon. Right.” Crawley moved away, putting some distance between them. “Well, you know what? Fuck you.” He stood up from the steps he was sitting, brushing the dust from his robes. “And just so you know. I did not do it. I never would. But you don’t believe that, do you? I’m the bad guy. No matter what I do, that won’t ever change.” His eyes were stinging, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he broke down. He did not want that to happen in front of Aziraphale.
It was never going to be enough. Didn’t matter he had stopped fucking time for Aziraphale to go inside. Didn’t matter he had sat there and tried to console him. None of it mattered. It wasn’t ever going to.
He ran off.
…
“Crawley! Wait!” Aziraphale called from behind him. He felt horrible for everything he had said now. Crawley had helped him, and what had he done in return? Accused him of being responsible for the fire.
He had really messed up this time.
He got up, and ran after him. Crawley was fast, and had disappeared rather quickly. It took Aziraphale a while to find him. And when he did, his heart broke again.
Crawley was sitting with his back against an abandoned building in a narrow, empty street, his legs drawn up to his chest, and his face buried against his knees. Judging by the heaving of his shoulders, Aziraphale could tell he was crying.
“Crawley…” he said softly, kneeling down next to him on the ground.
Crawley didn’t respond. So, Aziraphale put his hand on his arm gently. That made Crawley jerk his head up, but his face was still hidden behind his cascade of long hair.
“Get the fuck away from me…” he said, but it was weak, and there was no malice behind it despite the words. He just sounded hurt.
“Crawley. I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale said, getting straight to the point. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just confused, and upset, and– and I didn’t really know what I was saying.”
“It’s fine,” Crawley sniffed. “Evil demon, after all. Deserved it.”
“I don’t think you’re evil…” Aziraphale said, and realised that he did actually mean it. Crawley could be a nuisance, and even petty sometimes, but he wasn’t evil. “I really am sorry. I know it doesn’t justify my words, but I was really trying to process the shock of it all.”
Crawley didn’t say anything, and Aziraphale didn’t push. But he didn’t leave either. They just continued sitting there in silence.
“I’ve been there too, y’know…” Crawley murmured after a while. “I loved that place too. Maybe not as much as you, but I did.” He lifted his head to look at Aziraphale now, and his serpentine eyes looked huge. “People died in the fire. Kids too. Innocent people. How could you think I was capable of doing that? And if that isn’t enough, how could you think I was capable of doing something that could hurt you?” His eyes widened even more then, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Aziraphale froze for a moment. He was aware that they’d developed a sort of companionship throughout the years, but he hadn’t known Crawley actually cared about him. They couldn’t really be friends, could they? They were supposed to be on opposite sides.
He decided this wasn’t the right moment to think about their relationship right now.
“I didn’t think that. I don’t know what I thought,” he admitted quietly. “I suppose I just didn’t want to believe– I don’t know. But I truly am sorry. You helped me. We saved some scrolls thanks to you. Accusing you was the last thing I should’ve done.”
Crawley just nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but didn’t actually respond. He looked like he didn’t really know what to say.
So they just sat there, staring at the cracked walls in front of them. And after a while, Aziraphale felt a weight on his shoulder. When he looked to the side, he realised Crawley was resting his head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry about the scrolls,” Crawley said softly. “It’s a big loss.”
“It is,” Aziraphale agreed. “But it’s not your fault.”
Crawley hummed in agreement. “You know,” he began after a few minutes, and he lifted his head up to look Aziraphale in the eye. “I didn’t do it, but I have a pretty good idea who did.”
“Do you?”
“Yep. How would you feel if something unsavory happened to good old Julius Caesar?”
“Well–“ Aziraphale said primly. “I am an angel. I shouldn’t wish ill on anyone. But… I suppose, if something were to happen, it wouldn’t be so terrible.”
Crawley’s eyes shone with mischief then. “In that case, I think I might know a few old friends who would be happy to take him down.”