Archive of Our Own

3004 BC

Aziraphale stood on the deck of the Ark, gazing out across the water. It had rained for two days straight, with no sign of letting up. It could easily rain another twenty.

The boat had no oars or sails. It wasn’t built to navigate the storm, only to survive it, riding out the waves, adrift.

Water poured onto his head, flattening his curls, running around the curve of his cheeks, drop by drop. He’d stopped trying to wipe them away. There didn’t seem to be any point.

“Angel?” The voice behind him was slightly muffled by the downpour. “What are you doing out here?”

“Guarding,” he snapped, though the word stuck in his throat, heavy and thick. “What else would I be doing? You ridiculous…” He sniffed, but tried to hide it.

A long pause, during which he strained to feel the demon’s presence behind him. He couldn’t sense it. Of course he couldn’t.

When the voice came again, it was much closer. “There’s nothing for you to guard against.”

“I’m well aware,” Aziraphale bit back, pushing some particularly heavy drops from his eyes. The Ark rocked in the waves, and he fought to keep himself from reaching out to grab the rail.

There were two ways an angel in a physical body could touch material objects and beings, two ways he could interact with the world. One was a mundane contact, empty and simple, carrying perhaps a trace of the object’s journey, if he concentrated hard enough. That was how he interacted with most things—the soil, the trees, the drops of rain. But when he touched a human, or anything created by one…

Well. It would be deeply inappropriate. Gabriel had made that very clear the first time Aziraphale had reported the phenomenon, and he’d done his best to abstain ever since. Now, though, he was trapped on this man-made Ark, he’d damaged his sandals, and he could feel the last of his self-control hanging by a thread.

He took care to keep his hands clasped over his stomach, and to keep his feet on the little square of cloth he’d miracled up.

“Be a lot warmer inside,” Crawly said, tempting again. Always tempting. “A lot drier, too.”

“An angel cares not for physical comfort.”

“An angel, maybe.” Suddenly, the rain stopped falling on Aziraphale, though it still hammered down everywhere else. “But this angel in particular, I know better.”

Aziraphale tipped his head back to find the sky blocked by a long black arch. A wing. “Crawly!”

“S’fine,” the demon said quickly. “The humans aren’t going to come out in this, and it’s not like it’s a secret, anyway. Besides,” he shuffled dangerously close. “I owe you.”

“You don’t…” The angel wiped at his face, trying to erase all traces of wetness. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“That’s not for you to say.” Crawly sighed, trying to adjust his wing to block all the water, though between the wind and the waves, it wasn’t really possible. “But, you know, these humans… they’re in a bad state.”

“Can you blame them?” Aziraphale demanded stiffly.

“My side didn’t cause this,” Crawly snapped back, then blew out a breath. “Look. Doesn’t matter who’s to blame. Right now, they need comfort. Not the kind that comes from a demon.”

“Nor an angel.” But the idea of going inside sparked a warm little fire in his mind. He could be there with them. Share stories, share grief, share anything, as long as it was with other beings. “They need each other right now, not either of us.”

Crawly’s lip curled. “Nk. You’re probably right.” He leaned forward, arms crossed on the railing. “But if neither of us should be in there with them, then both of us should be out here. So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Pity,” Aziraphale murmured, but he was staring at Crawly’s arms, the way they rested against the wood. It seemed so simple, so casual.

Perhaps he’d been over-thinking this. That did sound like him, and the last few days had rather addled his wits. He’d managed to walk across the deck without anything more than vague, distant impressions, and he could usually open a door easily enough, if he kept the contact brief. Perhaps it was just a matter of bracing himself… and reaching out…

Aziraphale’s fingers brushed the rail.

In an instant, his mind was flooded.

All the confusion and fear that Noah had felt while building the Ark, all the grief and despair that had filled him as the fate of his little corner of the world grew ever more certain. All the hope and love he and his wife held for their sons and daughters-in-law, and the desperation with which they clung to each other now—

He jerked his hand back, clutching it to his chest as if he’d been burned.

“Angel!” Crawly spun towards him and Aziraphale stumbled back, barely managing to avoid being brushed by the black wings.

But in that moment of distraction, one foot slipped off the bit of fabric. His sole pressed against the planks, and the humans’ emotions surged through him again, more powerful than before. He clapped his hands over his ears, crying out as he tried to block it, to push it all away—

After an eternity of struggle, he managed to push it all away, and came back to find himself huddled in the rain, shivering, no longer able to pretend he wasn’t crying.

“Angel…” Crawly started again, more gently this time. “What’s wrong?”

“How?” He pleaded with the dark blur before him, almost lost in the endless night. “How can you stand it?”

“Stand…?” Crawly stared at his own hand, still resting on the rail. “The–the emotions?”

“Too much…” Aziraphale started rocking in place. “I—it’s just… too much.”

“I… yeah, they’re really strong but… dunno, guess I just built up a tolerance? Why, what do you usually do? When you’re… blessing and helping out and everything?”

“I don’t…” The angel choked on his own tears, and only managed to continue with great effort. “I just… don’t…”

“But…” Shaking his head, Crawly began to pace in the rain. “Look, it’s—it’s not any stronger than touching a human. What do you usually do? If you just concentrate—”

“No…” Aziraphale moaned. “Told you. I don’t.”

“You don’t…” The demon fell still. “That’s not…”

“You don’t… need to touch someone… to bless them.” Saying it seemed to draw even more pain from some reserve deep inside. “So I don’t. I just… don’t.”

The rain hammered down onto the deck, running in cold streams around their feet.

Finally, Crawly managed, incredulous, “But, Angel… It's been a thousand years.”

**

One Thousand Years Before…

“So, what’s next for you?” The voice pulled Aziraphale out of his reverie. The rain had slowed considerably, now nothing but a light patter against his feathers, still stretched above the demon’s head.

“I-I—Sorry?” He tried to remember what they’d last been talking about—the odd habits of humans—but this didn’t seem connected to the question.

“Humans’re gone,” the demon reminded him, talking a bit slowly. Oh, he must think Aziraphale was such an idiot! “So. What’s next for you? Stuck guarding this wall, or back to Heaven, or…?”

“Back to Heaven, if only to report in.” That would be a relief, to be in the company of fellow angels again, to shed this body and its… limitations.

There were far more of those than he’d expected. He’d been prepared for the physical ones, being restricted to a finite number of arms and wings, only able to lift a few hundred pounds at a time. The reduction to his senses had been something of a shock, leaving him only able to see in three dimensions, incapable of hearing the crystalline tones of the universe or taste the individual atoms.

That was how the demon—Crawly—had managed to sneak up on him. Aziraphale should have seen the serpent approaching, even with his back turned, should have seen his movements echo forward through time. Being caught flat-footed, being so totally unprepared—that, certainly, was a terrible limitation.

But, no, the worst of it was how… disconnected everything felt. Almost numbing. He couldn’t sense the trees below, or the sun behind the clouds, or even the being standing right beside him, sheltered under his own wing. It was as if the colour had been drained from the world, as if everything was much farther away than it appeared. Unreal, unwelcoming and… utterly unnerving.

“…always the way, isn’t it?” Crawly was saying, completely oblivious to Aziraphale’s distracted state. “Report in just to get sent off again.”

“Yes… yes! Gabriel always has me rushing about like one of his messengers. I always want to remind him, I’m a Guardian, not a Herald, I—” He froze as Crawly’s face split into a wide, hungry grin.

“So why don’t you?” the demon asked in a soft, sweet voice, words flowing like honey. He shuffled a little closer, until Aziraphale could feel the heat radiating off him. Oh, it was positively indecent! “Why not tell him what you really think?”

“I-I-I-I—Don’t be ridiculous,” the angel sputtered. “To say such a thing to—No proper angel would ever—You’re trying to tempt me, you wicked creature!”

Of course he was. Aziraphale should have seen it from the start. Why else would a demon approach him, speak to him, sidle close to shelter under his wing? Oh, it appeared that the poor creature was simply anxious about the rain, but clearly that was a ruse, taking advantage of Aziraphale’s disordered mind…

Wasn’t it?

It was so difficult to tell, when he couldn’t sense anything, couldn’t feel the demon’s intention prickling across his skin! He should be able to tell a sincere action from a wicked one as easily as he could tell hot from cold, and yet…

He wrestled with the question, the whole complex debate flashing through his mind in an instant, and concluded that the safest thing to do would be to pull back his wing and leave Crawly there, depart before he could become further entangled in the demon’s schemes.

But the moment his wing moved, Crawly flinched, arms coming up as if to shield himself.

“Oh! Oh, goodness, are you alright?” Forgetting everything else, Aziraphale stretched his wing out again, taking better care to protect his companion from the rain. “There, is that better? All this nasty rain…” If he tipped it like so, the drops would roll down his flight feathers instead of dripping off the leading edge.

But Crawly still stood stiffly, eyes especially wide, skin pale. “Thought… thought you were gonna hit me,” he mumbled.

“Hit you? With—with my wing?”

“Or your fist.” Crawly shuffled where he stood. “Fists’re good for that. Or feet, but you have to aim it just right.”

“Is that what you do in Hell? Hit each other? With your bodies?” Aziraphale found himself recoiling in disgust. Even in combat, angels never struck each other’s corporeal form! “Why would you ever do such a thing? Why would I?”

“You said I was tempting you.” Crawly’s head seemed to shrink between his shoulders. “Called me wicked.”

“Well, yes, but—I would hardly—over such a thing!” He was nearly breathless from huffing and puffing. “Don’t project your own temperament onto me.”

The golden eyes narrowed slightly. “Then why did you move like that? Pull away?”

“I…” And there was the guilt. An angel shouldn’t be so suspicious of another being, demon or no. Should he? Aziraphale bit his lip, uncertain. “I was simply moving my wing a bit. Stretching. These bodies get stiff so quickly, don’t they?”

Crawly stared at him a moment while Aziraphale writhed in the agony of his untruth. Then the demon offered a tiny smile, just the smallest quirk of the lips. “Yeah, they really do. S’weird.” He turned back towards the wasteland to watch the darkening sky. “Specially when it’s cold and dark. I think the sun’s gone down already.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale blinked, astounded. Crawly had simply accepted what he’d said? Just like that?

But of course. He must be limited in all the same ways Aziraphale was, all ten dimensions of his being packed into a material body. Which meant his senses would be dulled, constrained to the physical only. Crawly couldn’t sense Aziraphale’s intentions any more than the reverse.

Which… made no sense. Surely, he’d only approached Aziraphale because he could detect the soft-hearted soldier’s weakness. And he’d done so openly, confidently, as if knowing there was nothing Aziraphale could do to stop him. What else could it have meant?

And yet…

“You know,” Crawly was saying, mumbling a bit. “I’ve seen the humans curl up to rest at night. Call it sleeping, right? And… I mean. I get the urge to do the same, you know? Get somewhere nice and warm?”

“Oh, yes, I was just thinking the same thing,” Aziraphale invented wildly. “It always seemed so… so cosy.” It also seemed damp, dirty, and uncomfortable. The angel couldn’t see himself doing such a thing, no matter how cold it got. “Might be… be interesting to try.”

And once again, Crawly appeared to believe him, smile growing ever broader. “Exactly! Cosy, warm, relaxed. What better way to spend a night?” He lowered his voice a little. “Was starting to think it was just me. Serpent body and all.”

“Oh, no, I completely understand,” Aziraphale lied again, shocked at his own audacity. He could never have gotten away with such brazen falsehoods in his normal form! Some amount of deception would always slip through and alert whoever he was speaking to.

That seemed to prove it. Crawly was as bound by his body as Aziraphale was, even if he got to be a bit more flexible with the number of limbs.

Would it feel the same returning to Heaven? He’d be the only one in a body; would he still find himself concealed from the others’ minds, or would they somehow be able to overwhelm him and…

“You know,” Crawly went on, arms crossed, staring into the distance. “I think—I think— the sleeping thing works better with a, er, a partner. Y’know.” A quick glance. “Together.”

Oh. Oh, goodness, this had gone quite far enough. “Yes. Well. A pity I have to go straight back to Heaven. No time to experiment and all that.”

“Yeah, I thought as much.” Crawly straightened his shoulders and tipped his head back, watching the clouds break apart overhead, revealing a few distant stars. Just as Aziraphale was breathing a sigh of relief, the demon continued, “So, another time, or…?”

“Absolutely not!” The angel all but shouted, but regretted it when Crawly flinched again. They must be a violent bunch indeed, for him to so easily think—well. Best to nip all this in the bud. “No, I’m sorry, but. Crawly, you must understand. All that physical contact. I don’t know how things are in Hell, but—I’m an angel! It would hardly be appropriate.”

“Wha—no!” Crawly’s face shifted through a range of colours, landing on red. “I didn’t mean—just sleeping, right? Side by side? It looks… warmer and stuff, not…” He waved a hand about. “Not the rest of it.”

The rest of it?

Ah. Yes, the humans didn’t always lie still all night, did they? And when they didn’t… “I should hope not,” Aziraphale said, straightening his robe. He took care to keep his wing centred above Crawly, though it was getting a bit difficult. “But still. You must know angels are above such physical indulgences, carnal or otherwise.”

“Physical indulgences. Like… touching?” Crawly’s brows were pulled together. “The humans are always touching. Hands and arms and stuff. Nothing that would hurt, or—or be… too personal.”

“Oh, no, it would all be much too…” The word intimate sprang to mind, as well as a few images Aziraphale hastily pushed away. “Too base, I think. Too immediate. Any physical pleasure, however minute, would distract from the… the pleasure of Creation as a whole.” Yes, that sounded like what Gabriel would say. The Archangel always had the right answer.

“So, you think it would be… evil?”

“Not evil, no. But hardly a-a-a pure, Heavenly act.”

Crawly thought this over. “The humans were doing it a lot, you know,” he pointed out. “Constantly. Even before the whole… apple and fall thing. Seemed just a natural part of who they were.”

“Well, yes, there you have it. Base actions for base creatures. They must be full of-of physical needs and urges. Did you see how much they put in their mouths? Not just fruits.” Aziraphale had watched them do that an awful lot. It made his own mouth watery. “But there’s nothing bad about it in their case, of course. They can’t help how they’re made.”

“Maybe.” The demon shrank into himself again. “Didn’t think it was all that complicated. I just thought, you know, it might make them feel… more secure. Less lonely.”

Lonely. The word echoed in Aziraphale’s heart, harmonising with something inside him. It ached. Not really a good ache, but not bad, either. Made him want to lower his wing a little, bring it closer to Crawly. Stretch out his arm and… and perhaps settle it around—

No. He’d clearly been down here far too long.

“I think it’s just about finished,” the angel said quickly, folding his wing behind himself. “There’s quite a lot of stars out. Aren’t they lovely? Stars and flowers and… many lovely things. It’s a very, er, well-built world.”

“Yeah,” Crawly said vaguely, eyes tracking across the night sky. “I like it.”

“Well, so do I, naturally, but all things in moderation. It’s high time I reported in.”

“Mmmh.” The demon rocked a little where he stood. The wind blew past, sending his curls drifting behind him. “Think I’ll stay a bit longer. Watch the stars.”

Again, a twinge ran through Aziraphale at the demon’s words, or perhaps the way he said them, soft and hollow.

Or perhaps the way he stood with his shoulders huddled in. Oddly isolated, slightly apart from everything else. It made Aziraphale feel…

Lonely.

“I… I suppose it… I could wait a bit longer…”

“Why?” Crawly scowled at him, voice suddenly rough. “What would be the point? Humans’re gone. Nothing for you to guard anymore.”

“I… the point…” Aziraphale suddenly received a whole host of confusing urges from his body. The need to tug at his robe, and twist his hands together, to see if that would relieve the ache in his stomach. The desire to sink into the ground, or turn invisible, or run away. And the urge once again to stand beside the demon and put an arm across his shoulder.

It was all incredibly confusing. “Suppose you’re right,” the angel managed at last.

Crawly shrugged. “Go on, then.”

But still he hesitated. “Are… are you angry at me?”

Sighing heavily, Crawly turned and offered him one last half-smile. “Not really. Can’t help how you’re made, right?” He stretched his arms over his head, then began to walk away, still watching the stars overhead. “See you around, Angel.”

He disappeared into the darkness, leaving Aziraphale more alone than any angel had ever been before.

**

Six Years After Eden…

Aziraphale crouched at the edge of the humans’ encampment, watching how the Man and Woman played with their children. It seemed so… complex. Running, laughing, dodging away, then suddenly scooping one of the little ones up in their arms. It was incredibly physical.

He longed to join in. Not that he knew what he would do—perhaps just get in the way—but he longed to all the same.

“Lookssss like rain tonight,” a dry, rasping voice called from behind. Aziraphale flinched, still unnerved at how easily another being could sneak up on him. Fortunately, he knew by now what to expect, and turned around just in time to see a long black serpent finish transforming into a tall, slender demon. “Hello, Angel.”

“Crawly.” He nodded in greeting, clasping his hands to hide his anxiousness. “I expect I’ll be long gone by then. You?”

“Nnnh. A good temptation takes time.” He sauntered closer, then flung himself onto the ground near Aziraphale. “But this job doesn’t really call for a good temptation, so…” He shrugged, propping his sharp chin on one fist.

Aziraphale prodded about for some sign of Crawly’s thoughts or intentions, but as always, there was nothing to sense. Vague suspicions crept around his mind—surely the demon would only approach in order to trick him—but after so many harmless encounters, it was difficult to sustain them.

In the end, he settled for wary caution, shifting about so that a patch plant life separated them. “I hope you’re not meant to cause too much trouble,” Aziraphale chided, watching him through the tall, waving grass. “It makes for rather a lot of paperwork for me, you know.”

“Depends. I usually just wait for one of the kids to have a clever idea, then say, ‘Go on, you know you want to.’” Crawly tugged at his hair, a bit more frizzy and ragged than it had been in Eden, but still a rather lovely shade of red. “S’usually nothing spectacular, but the little bastards will surprise you.”

Without being able to sense emotion or intention, Aziraphale had had to learn to interpret facial expressions, gestures, tone of voice. The humans seemed to manage it quite naturally, and after a few years of observation, he was beginning to get the hang of it, too. Crawly’s expression and warm voice seemed to indicate fondness.

“I’m here for the children, too,” Aziraphale said, settling into a more comfortable position. “I’m to bless one of them directly.” Normally, he did his work from afar, blessing animals that the humans hunted or the land they camped on, or at most crafting a dream to send from the edge of the camp. Nothing that required him to get close.

Angels weren’t meant to be close to humans.

“Which one?”

“Gabriel didn’t say.” Aziraphale ducked his head and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I don’t think he can tell them apart.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

He really shouldn’t be saying such things. Particularly not about an Archangel. Or to a demon. Any proper demon would seize upon the weakness. Memorise every word, find a way to use them against him.

But there was just so much silence in his mind. It was far more than simply unnerving. He felt as if he were a feather drifting on the wind, nothing solid to land on. Not connected, not to anyone, not even when reporting face-to-face with Gabriel. Not even now, talking directly to Crawly.

Sometimes, he found himself saying things he otherwise wouldn’t, just to see if they got a reaction. Just to know someone was listening.

But as far as he could tell, Crawly had stopped paying attention entirely. He sprawled across the dirt, eyes riveted on the group of humans. They’d pulled something out of one of their carry sacks and were now tossing it between them, or kicking it across the ground. The Man and Woman moving with easy confidence, the little ones bumping into each other.

“What if you just grabbed the first one to wander off?” Crawly asked, pushing his body up. “A quick bless-and-run, and then you’re on your way again.”

That was the last thing Aziraphale wanted. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Well, yeah. I thought that was the idea.” He rolled over onto his back, now watching the humans while upside-down. “That way, whatever I wind up doing, you won’t be here to see it. So no extra paperwork for you.”

“But, surely…” Aziraphale frowned. He couldn’t think of any objections, but there must be something objectionable about the plan.

As he considered, he watched the Man and Woman bat the object back and forth. It was a sort of pinkish-brown colour, round, and apparently full of air, judging by the way it moved. Now and then one of the little ones would catch it and try to kick or throw it back, utterly uncoordinated. They could rarely get it to move any real distance at all, leaving the lop-sided sphere to bounce or spin in place, so that Aziraphale could see where one end was tied off—

“Good Lord!” He nearly jumped to his feet. “Is—is that a bladder?”

“Pig’s bladder, I think,” Crawly said, eyes dancing. “Saw them inflate one after a hunt earlier this year. Bloody clever, aren’t they?”

The two boys both tried to kick the bladder at once and managed to crash into each other instead.

“That… that isn’t the word I would use for it.” The Man picked up the organ, and the two little boys scrambled eagerly to their feet as he tossed it from one hand to the other. “It’s a bit disgusting.”

Crawly snorted. “Don’t ask how they bleach their clothes white, then. I don’t think you’re ready for that.” The Man threw the bladder into the air and slapped it as hard as he could. It flew right over the boys’ heads and disappeared into the brush lining the river. “Oh, looks like your chance. Go grab one of the buggers.”

Aziraphale tutted, but had to admit it seemed as good an opportunity as any. The boys were already pushing through the reeds, and he’d surely be able to get close while they were distracted, perhaps even perform the blessing and leave without being seen. Gabriel would certainly appreciate that; he was always saying Aziraphale was getting too attached to the mortal creatures.

Too attached in general. Whenever he visited Heaven—which itself was getting increasingly uncommon—he felt a need to stand close to other angels. Far too close. Not that it helped; there was still that aching chill inside, that strange numbness that crept up his arms and into his mind. And anyway, it made the other angels uncomfortable. They’d politely hurry off, disappearing down corridors in dimensions he could no longer see, leaving him alone again.

Soon enough, he found the two boys, splashing about at the water’s edge while the bladder bobbed gently in the current. The larger one pushed his arms through the water, creating an enormous wave that carried the toy to his brother, but the little boy fumbled it, sending it bouncing across the shore, rolling to a stop by Aziraphale’s feet.

The two boys saw him and immediately went still, smiles vanishing.

“Ah. Hello there,” the angel said awkwardly. “I-I mean, be not afraid. Er. Are you? Afraid?”

He was fairly certain that’s what their wide-eyed expressions indicated as they huddled close together, watching him. The little one seemed about to cry.

“Oh-oh, please don’t—I would never harm you. I’m an angel. Do you know what an angel is?”

He took a half step forward, and the boys scrambled back, clutching each other’s hands.

“It’s alright.” Aziraphale held up his own hands, palms towards the boys. “I’m not—oh, you must have seen me around. I’ve been watching over you for ever so long. Surely you’ve seen me? Hmm?”

No response. Somehow, that was enough to make the loneliness worse.

He knelt down, trying to meet them at their eye level. “My name is Aziraphale,” he said, smiling as kindly as he could. “You must be Abel, yes?” The little boy pressed his face against his brother’s shoulder, and the older one raised his arm to shield him.

“Is that how you protect your brother?” the angel asked. “Drawing close like that? Or does it just feel better?”

The older boy looked at his brother, then back at Aziraphale. “B… both?”

Improvement! Aziraphale’s heart did something very funny in response, a sort of shuddering skip. “How very interesting. Angels don’t do that, you know. Our natural bodies are very large and… and diffuse.” He considered explaining the different ways ten-dimensional, partially-corporeal, wholly immaterial beings could come in contact, but decided that was a bit much for a first conversation. “We don’t like to touch anything more than the very very edges of our bodies. I’m much closer to you now than I would ever get to another angel.”

The older boy thought about this, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder. “So… so you don’t protect each other?”

“We do,” he assured the boy. “Just in different ways. When we’re frightened, we spread out, to make sure everyone has enough room to move his wings. If we… we held each other’s arms, why, we wouldn’t be able to fight, would we?”

No response to that, either, but at least they didn’t seem to be backing away.

Odd how that was comforting. Odd how he wished they weren’t so far from him. His arms tingled with an emptiness that matched the one in his mind. He couldn’t explain it, except that looking at the way the two boys stood seemed… right.

“It’s strange, you know. I’ve seen many animals that pull apart when frightened, but so many more do the opposite. Draw together when they’re afraid, or tired, or…” By their furrowed brows, he guessed the boys were growing confused by his babbling. Best to cut this short. He glanced about and spotted the bladder lying nearby. “I suppose it’s about time you went back to your parents,” he said, reaching for it. “Why don’t you let me—”

His fingers brushed the humans’ creation.

**

Crawly started running as soon as he heard the angel screaming. Barely even thought about it, just an immediate, instinctual reaction.

He noticed, rather too late to do anything about it, that for once he was running towards the screams. Towards danger.

Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any—just Aziraphale, curled up beside the river, hands pressed to his ears, rocking in place.

“Angel?” Crawly stood an arm’s length away, eyes warily searching for anything that could upset a Guardian so. He expected a crocodile, at least, or a whole pack of lions. Instead, there was nothing but the humans’ toy, and the distant rustling of reeds where two little boys were beating a hasty retreat. “Are you alright, Aziraphale?”

“Oh…” He moaned, struggling to open his eyes. “My… my head…”

“Did something hurt you?” He circled carefully, looking around one last time.

“I… not exactly… I just…” Something like a whimper escaped his lips.

Satisfied for the moment, Crawly crouched as close as he dared. He’d have to be a real idiot to get right beside a Heavenly warrior, friendly or not. Particularly when he couldn’t sense how likely the angel was to lash out.

Then again, he’d done exactly that not two minutes after they first met. So he probably was an idiot after all.

“Can you tell me what it was?” But Aziraphale just sat there, shivering. Crawly tried to wait it out, but already he was feeling twitchy from being still too long. “Look, I know I’m kind of useless,” he started, reaching towards the bladder. “But if you just—”

“Don’t!” Aziraphale slapped his hand away.

Their fingers barely brushed.

But in that brief instant, Crawly was hit by a flood of emotions.

For six years, he’d been unable to sense another being’s mind. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. But without a doubt that brief contact brought a connection stronger than anything he’d ever sensed before. An eternity packed into two seconds.

The angel’s mind was like brilliant sunshine. So much cheer, so much genuine joy at everything the world had to offer. Nearly as much curiosity as Crawly himself. A more intellectual sort, but curiosity all the same. A love of comfort and beauty, of all things soft and warm. A desire to experience… everything.

All buried under layers of shame, humiliation, anxiety. Fear that anyone would discover how he struggled to think as a proper angel should; despair, because he knew deep down that he never would.

And loneliness. So much loneliness that he carried like a physical pain.

All that shot through Crawly’s head in a single blast.

Then he found himself laying in the mud, blinking up at the sun overhead. It seemed to have moved quite a lot in two seconds.

“C—Crawly?” The angel’s voice sounded distant and groggy. “Wh—Are you…did that…”

“Nrglph.” He pressed a hand to his throbbing head. “Nyuh.”

“Yes, I feel… quite the same…” After a few tries, Aziraphale managed to sit up, then immediately clutched his stomach, turning slightly green. “Ohhhhh, God help us…”

You, maybe, but She won’t lift a finger for me, Crawly thought, though what he actually said was, “Fuuuuuuuuug.” Eventually he managed to roll onto his side, and a few minutes later gathered enough breath to grunt, “S’like bein’ legrik… allegty… llllectric… shocked.”

Fuck words.

“I would hardly put it like that.” How did the huffy bastard manage to be so eloquent? “Have you ever been electrocuted?” Aziraphale sucked in a breath and pressed his fingers to his brow. “Oh. Oh, you have. Oh, dear.”

“You saw—?” Crawly leapt to his feet, staggering woozily. “Whatever y’saw… s’not… it…”

“Oh, no.” Aziraphale rubbed at his temples. “Nothing specific. No, there was simply… a great deal of pain. So much… oh… oh, my dear boy. I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” the demon snapped, bristling. “It’s Hell. Shit happens. You move on.” Not that Crawly had ever been good at moving on. He’d always been a pathetic excuse for a demon, running and hiding at every opportunity. Trying to mask his weakness behind bravado and sarcasm. No angel could understand—

But Aziraphale did understand. Crawly had just felt it for himself.

“Ah… fuckin’…” The world was starting to spin in new and exciting ways. He dropped back into a boneless sprawl, hoping that would help. “The Heaven was that?”

“I’m not sure…” Now Aziraphale was rubbing his hands together. The gesture looked less anxious than usual, more thoughtful. “At a guess, our—our minds and emotions are constrained by these physical bodies, leaving us unable to sense or be sensed. I’ve long speculated that was the case, though none of the other angels seemed interested in… further inquiry.”

“Hnn.” They weren’t very big on curiosity. Apart from Aziraphale, apparently. “One o’the other demons said something like that. Um. That I feel like I’m, uh… really far away.”

“Oh, how interesting!” Aziraphale sat up straighter. “Were you able to do any further experiments? Did you notice anything when they touched you?”

“Wasn’t like that. He, uh…” Crawly rubbed at his eyes, remembering the sound of Hastur and Ligur arguing somewhere over his head. “He was complaining that I’m not fun to torture anymore.”

Something like a choked-off whimper worked its way out of Aziraphale’s throat. “Oh, Crawly, I—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again,” he growled. “Told you. It happened. Move on.” Grunting at the effort, he forced himself to sit up again. “Besides. S’not all bad. I kind of freak the other demons out now, so they leave me alone.” Red hair spilled across his brow no matter how he shoved it away. “So I get to spend time up here. S’nice, even if it feels… nhhh…”

“Distant?” Aziraphale offered hesitantly. “As… as if you weren’t exactly connected to anything?”

“Or seeing it through a fog.” He tipped his head back, hoping to feel the sun on his skin, but the sky was covered in clouds. “Can’t tell if I’m dreaming, or…”

Sometimes Crawly watched the humans around their fire at night, sitting close, shoulders pressed together. He felt compelled to join them, even though he had always preferred to be on his own. Felt the lack of pressure against his body like a freezing ache.

“Do you think…” The angel started meekly, as if afraid to speak. “Do you think the humans feel this way? All the time?”

“Mph.” Crawly thought about explaining his serpent body, how moving from one to the other changed his perception of the world. He’d shift whenever it all got to be too much, to get some relief from this form’s constant need for touch. Serpents didn’t need to be near anything but their next meal.

But he’d never find the words to explain all that. “Nah. They’re built for it, right? They know how to deal. And… Mmmph.”

“And they have each other.” Aziraphale clasped his hands in his lap, staring intently at his interlocked fingers.

“Yeah.” Crawly stood up, teetered a little, then began to pace. “So… so you think touching did… whatever that was? I mean, obviously, but…” He growled in frustration.

“Yes… yes. It would make sense. We’re two beings between states, partially material, partially immaterial.” As he spoke, Aziraphale seemed to gain confidence. “Our perception a—a sort of mix of both. It would seem that, although we’ve lost our ability to connect with other minds, we can still do so through a physical conduit of sorts. I’m… not sure what would happen if we came in direct contact with a fully immaterial being…?”

“Don’t ask me. I was distracted at the time.” He raked his hand through his hair, forcing himself to think about that last visit to the Dukes’ office. “I… Yeah, Ligur was holding me while Hastur, ummm…” Aziraphale had reacted really bad the first time Crawly brought up punching. Probably best to skip the details. “Anyway, yeah, that’s when he said I felt too far away. Which, I mean… normally I can’t feel them at all, so… maybe?”

“A partial connection. Close enough for your incorporeal bodies to resonate, but not to fully harmonise. But with both of us being the same sort of mixture, when we made a connection…”

“Zap.” Crawly rubbed his thumb across his fingers. He could still feel exactly where Aziraphale’s hand had brushed his. It tingled. Burned. In a good way. “So what about fully material beings, then? Did something happen when you blessed the kids? Touched them?”

“No, I…” Aziraphale turned even more pale than usual, his eyes drifting towards the inflated bladder toy.

They both stared at it for a moment. “I don’t get it. You felt the pig die, or…?”

“No, no, it was the humans. They made this.” His fingers hovered over it, not quite daring to get close. “They were excited that the little one is big enough to play, too. The Woman in particular wants to teach him before she’s too addled by her next pregnancy. I didn’t even realise she was with child again. They were all so excited, so exuberant. I’ve never felt anything…” He pulled his hand back to his lap. “They put a little of themselves into it, I think. Just a piece. Extremely detailed, extraordinarily strong, but… but nowhere near as strong as… as…”

“Yeah.” Angel and demon in contact. They were probably lucky they hadn’t set the whole valley on fire. Crawly stared at the bladder, fingers tapping against his leg. “So… So now what?”

“Well. I shall have to report this immediately.” Aziraphale stood up, stumbling a little, but disguising it by brushing himself off. “Gabriel will know what to do next.”

“Gabriel? You’re joking, right? He doesn’t know how to find his arse with both hands and a map! What’s he going to tell us?”

“Crawly! How can you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s true. All he’s going to say is to drop it because it’s new and scary.”

“You can’t talk like that about an Archangel.”

“I can and I will! Useless fucking stuck-up bastard. Him and all his crony—”

Crawly cut off his tirade, Aziraphale’s state registering all at once. The angel looked anxious, of course, but more than usual, nearly on the edge of a breakdown, eyes shining with unshed tears and a sort of desperate denial.

But of course. Aziraphale’s entire world view was built around seeing Gabriel and the rest as utterly perfect beings, and himself as a useless failure. And while Crawly was only too happy to drag his bosses down to soak in the mud with the other peons, to Aziraphale that pedestal he put the Archangels on was a goal, an aspiration. Striving to be like them was the only way he’d ever have any worth of his own. Take that away from him and…

Shit. Crawly didn’t even have this much insight into his own mind. Bloody unnatural.

“Fine, look. Do what makes you feel better. Just don’t…” Don’t get your hopes up. “Don’t take too long, alright? I want to know what you learn.”

It shouldn’t have been convincing; Crawly was barely trying to be deceptive. But Aziraphale immediately brightened up, smiling more brilliantly than Crawly had ever seen him. “Oh, of course! Yes, I’ll—I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll get everything sorted out, and—and—and it’ll all be… just perfectly ducky, you’ll see.”

“Well, I do like ducks.”

“Wonderful. Yes.” The angel was now turning in circles, as if trying to find his own wings. “I’ll be back… oh, I already said that. Right. Mind how you go.”

And then Crawly was alone.

He crouched down, looking at the inflated thing the humans had been tossing around.

Just touching it had been enough to take Aziraphale out completely. And at least he was used to all those sappy emotions running around his own head. It would probably be much worse for someone as naturally antisocial as Crawly.

And it would get worse, in every way. He’d been able to see far enough ahead, back when he could still see through time, to know what direction everything was heading in. Soon, far too soon, the world would be filled with human creations, each carrying a tiny bit of human mind. Never mind all the humans themselves, thousands, maybe even millions some day, bustling about, all pressed up against each other.

Crawly could probably avoid it. There were bound to be quiet places a demon could lurk until the end of days arrived. Worst case, he could wait it out on the moon, no chance of running into humans there. Or anyone else.

He rocked back and forth on his feet.

But maybe…

Maybe it was like sunlight. Blinding when it hit you for the first time in a while, overwhelming if you took too much in, but once you got used to it, once you learned how to control where you looked and how long you spent out, and maybe got a pair of dark glasses for the really bright days…

No, hang on. He’d lost track of where the metaphor was going.

“Ah, I’m not clever enough for this.” Crawly pushed to his feet again, turning back towards the human camp.

He could wait on the edge until Aziraphale returned, assuming he ever returned. Assuming the Archangels didn’t decide to just keep him up there to avoid future contact or something. And, anyway, Crawly still had his own assignment to think about. It would probably be a while before the humans calmed down, so he had a good long time to come up with ideas.

Just sit and wait and watch them fuss over the kids and wrap their arms around each other, clasp their hands, go about their day bumping into each other and smiling in that way they had, that said they were glad to have each other close…

“Ah, fuck it.”

Crawly marched back to the toy, reached down, and seized it with his whole hand.

**

Sixty Years After Eden…

Aziraphale stood just past the edge of the grass where the humans worked, watching. It was incredible how much had changed in just a few short decades.

No longer did they travel across the wilderness, setting up camps as needed. A collection of sturdy homes stood nearby, strong against the wind and rain. Complicated items of their own construction stood everywhere, sometimes pulled along by animals they had tamed. And outside the village, the land had been cleared and reshaped to suit their needs.

All down the river, a strip of land had been uniformly filled with tall grass, little trenches dug to ensure water reached all their roots equally. Just beyond it, a line of upright sticks marked off a square that was filled with lentils and carrots and other plants in neat little groups; and beyond that, the trees, date and apple, arranged in perfect rows.

Everyone in the village was out today. Men and women moved together through the grass, cutting it down systematically with sharp blades of stone embedded into animal jawbones. Behind them the children—so many children—gathered armfuls of grass and bound them into bundles almost too big to carry. Another group of adults clustered in the shade of the trees sharing drinks. Whenever one of the workers grew tired, they could join this group and send another running to take their place.

As they worked, they called out to each other, laughing and waving. They clapped each other on the shoulder or back, lent an arm to support the ones who worked too hard. They sang together, less harmoniously than angels, but no less joyously, and sometimes the younger ones danced.

Incredible. Just incredible.

“Oi!” One of the workers, more darkly dressed than the others, stopped and waved. “Oi, Angel! Aziraphale!”

He rubbed at his eyes (when had they gotten all misty?) and saw the demon Crawly bounding out of the field, strands of bright red hair escaping from his braid, one of the human tools clutched in his hand. His face was flushed, but he was smiling.

“Angel!” He skidded to a halt, hardly even breathing heavily. “There you are. Haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Yes, I… I’ve been travelling around. Getting things set up.”

“Well, you’re back just in time. Come on!”

“Come—No!” Aziraphale drew back a step, earning a puzzled look. “I’m not here to-to-to—what are you doing?”

“It’s the harvest. See? They cut it all down, and then there’s enough barley for the whole year. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“And you… you’re helping?”

Crawly glanced at his tool. “Made this one myself. So I wouldn’t have to… you know.” The demon shifted back and forth while he talked, like he was about to start running. “And—look, this is part of an evil plot, you see? If we get it all in before the storm arrives, then tonight there’ll be drinking and carousing and… all that wicked, sinful stuff.”

“I see.” Unexpectedly, a smile tugged at Aziraphale’s lips. “And if you weren’t here, they would all soberly and piously go directly to bed?”

“Weeeeellll…” Crawly tossed his head. “Maybe. Hard to say. One thing for sure, if we—they— don’t finish in time, then everyone’ll be mad and cranky and take it out on each other. So. Demonic work either way.”

“Ah. Very dastardly. I see you’ve arranged things so you succeed no matter what. Even if you do nothing at all.”

“S’what happens when I don’t have an angel around to thwart me. Almost too easy!”

As they talked, Aziraphale felt something unknot in him, some part of him relax that had been tense for years. Decades. Ever since he’d last reported to Gabriel.

The Archangel hadn’t been impressed by Aziraphale’s discovery, nor his thoughts about what might be interfering with his senses. All while he explained to the best of his ability (carefully avoiding any direct mention of demonic contact), Gabriel had listened with an unreadable expression until the Guardian finally stumbled to a halt.

“So. Does this mean you can’t handle this job?”

“Wh—no! Not at all! Gabriel, I—I’m still fully able to—I just thought… It’s an interesting, um, wrinkle, isn’t it?”

“Aziraphale.” When Gabriel paced, he did so moving through at least a half-dozen dimensions, completely surrounding the hapless angel that had stepped into his office. Of course, while in this form Aziraphale could only perceive the three-dimensional human-shaped being before him, but he knew there was a great deal more, coiling all around him, waiting to strike. “We were all very pleased when you took this job. You seemed well-suited to it. I mean, not many angels are willing to debase themselves enough to handle a long-term assignment on the material plane.”

“Th… thank you?” He wasn’t sure if any part of it was meant as a compliment.

“But if you go around talking about… making contact with mortal minds, or handling material objects… I mean,” grimacing in pain, “some might start to think you actually like it.”

“And… and that would be… bad?” Gabriel’s expressions weren’t as fine-tuned as the humans’, but this one conveyed his answer clearly enough. “Of course. I… I won’t talk about it with anyone else. But I’d still like to pursue my own—”

“The best solution I can see,” the Archangel rolled on, “is to just avoid it all as much as possible. Don’t go near the humans, don’t socialise with them, and definitely don’t touch them. Yuck.”

And for close to sixty years, Aziraphale had followed those orders as faithfully as he could, even if it left him with a pain like a sword in his heart. He watched over the humans from a distance, guided them indirectly, and when even that got to be too much—removed himself from their presence entirely.

But, oh. To have another being nearby again, to be smiled at, spoken to directly… he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this. Missed being connected.

Crawly started walking backwards as he talked, and Aziraphale followed, drawn towards him, towards the humans in the grass beyond. Some of them pointed at him and waved, and he longed to wave back. A few of the children began walking closer, cautious but not afraid.

He could join them. Just for an evening. Work alongside them until it exhausted him, then sit in the shade and rest. Enjoy a cool drink, a warm conversation, a hand on his arm chasing away the chill that never left him.

Just for a few hours. Just once.

He reached out, fingers brushing the tall grass—

And pulled back, hissing as emotions surged through him again. Not just one or two humans, but all of them. The whole village had worked to grow this field. Last year there hadn’t been enough to go around, and the dry months had brought hunger and desperation, fear that the end had come. Grief over those who didn’t make it. The back-breaking labour of ploughing the field, digging the channels. Joy over the first green shoots in the mud, that they’d watched over so carefully for months and months, and now, at last, the harvest. They were so proud of themselves, of each other, exuberant that their hard work had paid off, that there would be enough for everyone this year, enough even for any strangers who might come along…

“Aziraphale?” He blinked, Crawly’s face slowly coming into focus. “You alright?”

“I…” His breath wheezed in his chest. “It’s… so much…”

“I know, I know. But you get used to it.”

“Get used to it?” He stumbled away. Shouldn’t get used to it. Shouldn’t be doing this at all. This shortness of breath, this panic in his mind—that was Aziraphale’s punishment for going against a direct order. “I’m not going to—to—”

“Yes, you will, it’s not that bad, really. Look.” Crawly grabbed one of the barley stalks, pulling it free. “See? I-I can still feel it, but it’s in the back of my mind, you learn how to—how to handle it.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” almost pleading now, following the retreating angel. “It was easier this time, wasn’t it? No screaming, no—no pounding in your head? It just takes practice. I’ll show you how, I’ll teach you—”

“Crawly, no!” He couldn’t think. Too much at once, too much noise, too much heat, his head was pounding, his throat closing up. “Just—just leave me alone!” He turned and sprinted away, as fast as he could.

“Angel!”

Aziraphale didn’t often have the stamina for running, but today he didn’t stop until the voices were lost in the distance and the green smudge along the river swallowed by the desert.

**

Six Hundred Years After Eden…

He’d never imagined so many humans could exist in one place.

Aziraphale walked cautiously through the city, wrapped in a cloak of his own making. The sandals were his, too, insulating his feet from the street below. He’d learned the hard way, even the ground could be dangerous.

His target was on the far side of the main square. Just a quick blessing. In and out.

But he still wasn’t close enough.

Hundreds of people swarmed through the square. Stalls sold fish or fruits or brightly coloured bands of leather. Someone had opened a jar of beer and was distributing cups. Somewhere nearby, a stew was cooking. Musicians, dancers, priests with incense and idols. Voices shouting their wares, shouting for their friends, shouting just to be heard over the noise.

Some laughing, some arguing, some hurrying through, some lingering to watch…

It might have been a festival. It might have just been an average day. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Aziraphale pulled the cloak tighter, until it covered him completely. There seemed to be a gap in the crowd just ahead.

One blessing. In and out.

He stepped into the square.

Immediately, the angel was overwhelmed. The gap in the crowd snapped shut like a crab’s claw, seizing him and carrying him away. Bodies bumped against him on every side, rattling him, knocking him off course. There was too much noise, he couldn’t think—

Someone slammed into his back.

—A young man from a village downriver, no more than fifteen, excited for his first trip to the city—

He stumbled into a small group…

—Two husbands dead, and the third left, never to return. She prayed to the gods she could find some way to feed her children—

…recoiled and spun on the spot…

—A father, so proud of his clever daughter. She was getting to old for those crudely carved toys, but he had his eye on a lovely ribbon—

…another elbow connected with his back…

—Too old to be out and about, but then, too old to do anything useful at home. Might as well see what all the excitement was about—

Each moment of contact blossomed in his mind, a precious connection full of hopes and fears and loves, and he loved them all back. He reached for the contact, hungered for it, longed to feel like he was part of the world, part of anything. Not just a phantom lost in the winds of time.

But it was too much. His mind was overloaded, skin twitching, itching from the heat and the pressure. He could no longer see his target, no longer remember what he was supposed to do once he—

“Angel?”

Aziraphale’s head whipped around. There, standing by one of the stalls, cup of beer in one hand. Leaning so casually, hardly noticing how close the others came to him. How? How did he do it? Why was he so much better at this than Aziraphale?

Why was he such a useless, stupid angel?

“Aziraphale, is that you?” Voice half-lost in the crowd, but there was no mistaking his meaning. Crawly pushed off from the stall and began to press through the crowd, nudging humans aside without a thought. “Hang on.”

Already, the angel had started to back away. He didn’t know what to do. What he would say. How he could explain what he felt, this terror, this need to be close to the humans, to anyone. To press against Crawly and wrap himself in the demon’s arms and mind, fill that emptiness inside him, chase away the longing that followed him everywhere—

“It is you! Angel—!”

He fled, pushing heedlessly through the crowd, mind assaulted by a thousand lives, a thousand little universes, so brilliant and lovely, so warm. Too warm. They burned him, tore at him, drowned him, suffocated him. Killed him in every way he could die.

Aziraphale didn’t know when he started shouting, but he was still doing so when he finally passed through the city gates. He’d lost a sandal at some point, and every step filled his mind with the countless humans who had walked these paths, turned them into roads by the pressure of their feet and the work of their hands—

He let his cloak fall and kept running, until all the work of the humans was lost in the distance, and he was alone again.

**

3004 BC

“Why?” Crawly asked, eyes glinting in the darkness. “We’re going to be on this damn boat for weeks—maybe months. Why would you…”

“Gabriel ordered it,” Aziraphale mumbled, lips numb. They were inside now, out of the rain, kneeling on one of the blankets he’d miracled up to insulate himself from the wood. A single oil lamp flickered, barely breaking the gloom. “What could I say?”

“You could say no,” Crawly growled, then sat down just past the blanket’s edge. “No, you couldn’t. I know. But still. What did he expect you to do?”

“I… I don’t know…” That was a lie, though; the kind of lie that hurt to tell. The kind he tried to tell himself. “He expects me to just… handle it. A better angel would.”

“Give me a fucking break.” Crawly rocked back, rapping his head against the wall. “You see any better angels down here even trying? No!”

“No, Crawly. That’s not true.” His voice sounded so rough and heavy. Not at all like himself. “Gabriel sends down messengers all the time. Michael herself delivered Noah’s instructions personally. None of them were… were any worse for their time in a body.”

“Yeah, but none of them stuck around for even five minutes after their job ended. You—” Crawly lowered his voice, clearly trying to speak softly. “You’ve been down here for a thousand years. On your own. That’s extraordinary, whatever Gabriel says. You—you’re doing great,” he finished in a rush, sitting back again and turning away. Probably hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t see his lie.

“That’s not true, either.” The angel managed a shaky breath. “You’re… so much better at this. At everything. It’s remarkable. I…” He bowed his head. “I can’t… stand it. The touching.”

For a moment they were both silent, listening to the patter of rain, the creak of boards, the shuffling of animals just beyond the wall.

“How does it feel?” Crawly finally asked. “When you… y’know. Sense them. Does it hurt?”

“It feels marvellous.” He remembered the glimpses he’d had of the villagers’ minds, before the rains started to fall. Before they knew they had to be afraid. “Warm and lovely, like a—lamp on a dark night. Like the very first stars after a storm. It almost doesn’t matter what they’re feeling, what sort of lives they’ve lived. Just to have that connection… It’s incredible. I never want it to stop, for that first second.”

“And after that?”

“It’s too much.” Aziraphale pressed a hand to his lips, trying to hide how he trembled. “Just… too much. I can’t push it away, can’t… get any peace. It’s like their minds are… are climbing into mine, and I can’t keep them out. Then…” A tear slipped down his face. “Then it hurts.”

“Shit,” Crawly hissed under his breath, shifting where he sat. “Do you… do you have to keep them out? Maybe if you weren’t fighting it—”

“Gabriel ordered it.”

“Fuck Gabriel.”

“Crawly!”

“Yeah, fuck him. He doesn’t know a blessed thing, and you know it!”

“That… that doesn’t matter…”

“Yes it does! Look,” Crawly sat forward eagerly, his face alarmingly close. “What if Gabriel ordered you to stop breathing? Hmm? No more letting profane air into your holy lungs, for any reason. Would you do that?”

“Yes, I…” Aziraphale bit his lip. “I mean, obviously, that—that’s a very silly question. He’d never ask such a thing. But I do obey all reasonable orders, and—”

“But what if he did? Something so patently unreasonable. Would you do it?”

“Well, I—I mean, I couldn’t. Yes, I don’t need to breathe in order to—to continue existing, but I must if I’m going to talk, or—or walk, or—have a functioning body at all!”

“And would you tell him that?” Crawly pressed on.

Contradict Gabriel directly to his face? He couldn’t even imagine it. Aziraphale’s mind shied away from the very thought. “No, I… don’t think I could. I would simply respect his wishes while in front of him, and…” He sighed. “And the rest of the time, do what seemed best to perform my duties. But it’s not the same, Crawly. I don’t need to—to do any of this to function.”

“I think you do.” The demon stood up and started pacing around the little closet Aziraphale had claimed for himself. There wasn’t really room for pacing, so he mostly just turned in circles and bumped into walls. “Look. I’ve been thinking a lot about this. About… sensing and touching, and why everything’s different for us.”

“Why?”

“Well… it’s complicated, alright?”

“No, I mean… why would you think about that?”

Crawly paused to stare at him incredulously. “Angel. You had your own theory minutes after it happened. How can you… not think about it?”

Because I was ordered not to. But he didn’t say it aloud, in case it made Crawly stop.

“Right. So. Mngh. In our normal bodies, we have infinite limbs and… no, hang on.” The demon scratched at his scalp, hair growing even more tangled. “Let’s start with. Serpents. A real snake needs… food, water, air, heat. When I’m in that body, I need heat, too.”

“Just heat?”

“Nyeah, more or less. I think because it, mmmh, affects my mind? Like. I stretch out in the sun and bask, and it feels good. Real fucking good. S’why I do it. But if I shifted now, with no sun… I’d last the night, maybe half of tomorrow, and then I’d doze off. Just… fade out, and you wouldn’t be able to wake me until the rain was long gone.”

“How interesting. But I don’t see—”

“It’s the same thing, Angel.” Giving up on pacing, he pressed his hands to the wall. “Humans need to touch each other. To feel connected to each other. Not every moment of every day, but… if they try to go without it… their minds start to… to… it’s not good, alright?” Crawly slid back to the ground. “Without it, shit just… stops working.”

That much explanation seemed to have exhausted the demon. “That’s… well, it’s a theory, but that’s hardly proof.” He considered the idea as best he could. “But still. Even if humans need contact, angels absolutely abhor it. We don’t like to touch—”

“Nah. Serpents don’t like to touch. In that body, it makes me… twitchy. Really uncomfortable. And I thought, well, that’s me, prickly demon, wanting to be alone. But it isn’t. After a while, I realised that… under it all… I still wanted that connection, the Crawly part of me. The demon part.”

“But…” Aziraphale tried to imagine himself coming into direct contact with Gabriel, and immediately felt sick. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Ngh. This is where it gets… complicated.” For a moment, Crawly just stared at the floorboards, tracing the wood grain with one finger. “Um. Demons. You know we, uh, touch. All the time.” A flash of golden eyes, then he retreated further into the shadows. “In Hell, we… um. Powerful demons will hurt lower demons. For fun. There’s usually a lot of touching… hitting and stuff.”

“I—” Aziraphale cut himself off. Crawly didn’t like being told I’m sorry. It hurt his pride; but more than that, it reminded him there was something to be sorry about. That what he’d experienced was real trauma, not just some inconvenience to move on from.

It was all still clear in Aziraphale’s mind, even a thousand years later. A little piece of Crawly, there in his soul, just waiting to be acknowledged.

“Yes,” he finally managed. “I… I got that sense.”

“Yeah. Nh. I—you know I never—I wouldn’t—”

“Never thought you would, my dear fellow.”

“Mh. Good. Um.” He pressed back deeper into the corner. “It… didn’t start after the Fall. We were still… still angels when…” Crawly shook himself. “Point is. I got a chance to feel that contact as an angel and as a demon. And it… it wasn’t that different from normal sensing. Stronger, yeah, but… mostly the same.”

For the first time in centuries, Aziraphale felt his curiosity begin to stir. “And what does that tell you?”

“I think—I think— that we were touching. All the time. I think that’s what sensing is. Not a—a separate organ, like smelling or hearing, just… touching. Holding each other’s incorporeal hands.”

“Crawly, be serious.”

“I am being serious! Infinite arms, Aziraphale, across ten dimensions. Can you actually tell me what you did with all those?”

“Well, obviously, I had a few dozen for manipulating matter. Twenty for combat and defence. Ah… I kept a few pairs specifically for research…”

Not even close to infinity. But he knew those limbs had been there, the same way humans knew that air existed because they could feel the wind and taste the change in temperature. His essence, in a manner of speaking, all around him and reaching out through Creation.

They must have served some purpose.

“It’s real obvious, if you think about it,” Crawly continued slowly. “Millions of angels. Infinite arms. How could we not be in contact every moment of every day? It’s just so natural, we don’t notice it until it’s gone. Until we stuff ourselves into these bodies with only two, and… yeah.”

He paused again, giving Aziraphale a chance to say something. But there was nothing to say.

“Um. Yeah. Like I said, it’s just… a theory. But. When we touch stuff, y’know, physically, it’s more… concentrated. Feels more powerful. And… and I think we need it. Our bodies need the physical, our minds need to—to connect… And this…” he waved a hand in the air. “This does both.”

“And… without it…” Aziraphale was really struggling. The entire concept was too big, to foreign to absorb. It simply sat in his mind, waiting to be digested later.

“Without it, we get sick. You’ve been sick.” Crawly sighed, trying to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “And it means it’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Both of us. It’s our nature, whether we knew it or not. And that makes it… fine.” He shrugged. “It’s part of us, not good or bad. It’s just… how we’re made.”

“But it still… feels wrong.” His curiosity was already fading, leaving Aziraphale numb and tired. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner and never move again.

Which, he supposed, was the point.

He pictured himself laying down again, only this time with Crawly beside him. Imagined himself pressing against the demon’s side, soaking in his warmth like the rays of the sun. Letting it take the edge off the chill that had run up and down his arms for a thousand years. Perhaps it wouldn’t make him feel better, but at least he wouldn’t feel worse…

After a while, Crawly stirred, hugging his knees to his chest. “Um. Look, Angel. It’s… this isn’t because of… me, is it?”

“This? What?” The utter incongruity of the question pulled him sharply back to the moment. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“Just, um. When we touched. I got a lot from you. And it’s… still there, in a way. S’nice, but…” He shuddered. “I-I don’t think you coulda seen anything good from me. There’s a lotta dark shit in here. And then, after that… after that, you were always running away from me.”

“Oh, Crawly, no.” Aziraphale sat facing Crawly, his own knees pulled up close. “No, it wasn’t like that at all. What I saw…”

It had been dark, yes, but familiar, too. Like looking into a distorted mirror. The same loneliness he always felt, the same anxiety. The same utter conviction of his own uselessness. The same love of the strange beings they shared the world with, the same yearning to learn more.

How frightening, to see so much of himself in his enemy. And how very wonderful.

“Yes, there was… so much darkness around you. So much pain, but that wasn’t you.” Aziraphale rested his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. “The Crawly I saw had so much good in him—”

“No!” The demon snapped, blush visible even in the dark. “Take that back! I’m not—demons aren’t good.”

“Oh, my apologies.” This time, the smile was almost impossible to resist. “Ah, then… let’s say that despite everything, it was clear you had… many admirable traits.”

Crawly pursed his lips, considering this. “Admirable. Yeah, that’s me.” He tipped his head, resting his cheek on his knee, hair falling in a curtain past his shoulder. “So, uh. You… weren’t scared?”

“Of you? Never.” He looked down at the dark floorboards below Crawly, and the light blanket on which he sat. The edge of it divided the tiny room perfectly in half. “It was… the connection was frightening, more than any other I’ve ever felt, but… I’m glad it was with you.”

Something moved in the darkness, and he looked up to find the demon’s hand stretched out towards him. “Did you… want to try again?”

“I can’t…” Aziraphale’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my dear boy. It’s too much for me. I just…” He sobbed. “I’m not like you.”

“Do you want to be? I mean… with the touching? Do you want to learn?”

Aziraphale hesitated, but this wasn’t something he could hide any longer. He nodded.

Before his head even finished moving, Crawly was on his feet. “I got this. Just—stay here, right? I’ll be back—right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I could hardly…”

But Crawly had already disappeared into the darkness, and Aziraphale was alone again.

**

Across a thousand years on Earth, Aziraphale’s physical senses had gotten keener. By the light of a single oil lamp, he could see every knot in the wood of the little room. He could smell the pitch and resin that coated each board, and the stench of a thousand animals just below it. Hear the creak of wood, feel the rise and fall as the Ark rocked and tipped on the waves.

But beyond that… nothing. An endless expanse of empty water and death, as far as the eye could see, and one little boat, adrift in the darkness.

That was Aziraphale. Adrift. Alone. Longing to feel solid ground beneath him again. Knowing that somewhere out there, beyond his reach, there was life and light and happiness still. But not sure if he believed it.

With Crawly gone, he felt his connection to the moment fading. Soon he would start to drift again, numb and dissociated. Performing his duties without much thought, until something pulled him out once more.

But before it had a chance to set in, he heard the slap of footsteps, and there was Crawly again, juggling three oil lamps and an enormous sack.

“There. This should help. Let’s get some blessed light in here, eh?” His hands were a blur as he lit the lamps and arranged them, pulling some polished copper plates from his bag. When those were set behind the lamps, they reflected the light towards the middle of the room, towards Aziraphale, until the dark little closet was filled with a warm glow.

“Right,” Crawly dug into the bag again. “Now. You’re gonna want your own bag to carry these in, but these can get you started.” He pulled out an assortment of objects, lining them up at the edge of the blanket. A string of beads. A simple clay bowl. A strip of braided leather dyed a faded red. A comb made of polished bone. Crawly held each one for a moment and studied it before setting it down. “I like to hold onto things with, um, interesting vibes, you could say.”

“…Vibes?”

“Yeah, you know. Gotta call it something. I started because I wanted to see how long the—the connection to the humans lasted, but most stuff falls apart before it even begins to fade. So now I just keep things with memories or emotions I want to feel again later. S’like listening to a favourite story.” He added a little animal carved from a piece of wood. “All of these are… nh. They’re nice. Mellow. Nothing strong or scary in them.”

“And…” Aziraphale tried to reach towards them, but instead his hands drew back, even closer to his chest. “You want me to…?”

“Not now. When you’re ready. Hold onto one of them every day, for as long as you can. Try to go a little longer each time. You’ll get used to it real fast.”

It sounded so simple. Too simple. “It won’t work.”

“Have you tried?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale watched the light reflect off the comb, marvelling how easy it was to lie now. He hated it. “No, not… not like this. But I’ve had hundreds of… brief encounters, you could say. It never gets easier.”

Crawly’s fingers tapped on the floor. “It should. How brief are we talking?”

“I don’t know. A few seconds? It’s difficult to keep track. I’m mainly focused on blocking it all out.”

“Ok.” His hands flicked down the line, rearranging the pieces. “That’s… I think that’s the problem. Trying to shove it all away. You—the angel in you—that’s exactly what it needs. The more you deny it, the harder it gets.” He glanced up at Aziraphale, open and earnest. “If I’m right… and I really think I’m right… you just have to open yourself to it. Let it all in. Maybe let yourself get lost in it, and find your way back.”

“Crawly…” He pulled back towards the corner again. “No, Crawly, I can’t. It’s—”

“It won’t be too much. I promise.” He nudged the little carved animal closer. “Practice with these, maybe add a few more when you’re up to it, and then we work your way up to people. And—!” Crawly twisted around, digging into the bag again. “Almost forgot. You can eat things, too!” He pulled out a loaf of dark, crusty bread.

“Eat? No, that’s—” Aziraphale swallowed, his mouth watering in a most undignified way. “That would be, er, sullying the temple of my—my—my celestial body…”

“Uh-huh. Sounds like Gabriel speaking, is he hiding in here somewhere?” He tore the bread in half, revealing the soft, fluffy inside. “Look. Food’s good for this. If we start with little pieces, you’ll barely feel anything. Then we’ll move on to bigger and bigger bites, but the flavour should keep you from getting too lost, and it fades quickly once you swallow. Grapes would be even better, they only carry a faint touch, but this…” Crawly pinched out a tiny bit of bread and held it out to Aziraphale. “This will work.”

Aziraphale lifted his hand, but still didn’t accept it. “This just feels… selfish, somehow.”

“You’re allowed to be selfish.”

Still, Aziraphale hesitated, hand slowly drawing back.

“Fine, look at it this way.” Crawly rearranged his legs while keeping the hand holding the bread perfectly still. “The… the baker who made this died yesterday. In the flood. This bread was one of the last things he made. You can eat it and… I dunno, honour him? Or you can let it go bad.” He glanced around the tiny room. “All this rain and wet, s’not gonna last another day in my bag. That would be such a waste, hmm?”

This time, he let the smile happen, a slow sad one that almost hurt. “Tempting me, you wicked creature?”

“You know it.” Crawly held up the little ball of bread, barely the size of a pea. “Come on, Angel.”

Aziraphale stretched out his hand and accepted the human food.

He rolled it around his palm, searching his mind. A very faint, distant echo, something vaguely human, in one corner. Nothing more. When he placed it on his tongue, he could taste rough barley grain, a little sour, disguised by a few drops of sweet honey. The baker had learned the recipe from his father, who had learned it from his own mother…

And then it was gone.

“Not too much?” Crawly asked anxiously.

“No, I…” Aziraphale swallowed again, just in case. “I barely even noticed.”

“See? That’s what it’s like most of the time, like—colour, or texture. It’s always there, but you don’t think about it if it doesn’t draw your attention, right? Just have to get used to it first.”

“Like soaking in hot water,” Aziraphale mused. “Alarming at first, but once you have a chance to grow accustomed to it…”

“Oh, that’s much better than what I came up with.” Crawly tugged at the bread again. “Ready for another?”

Bite by bite, a picture of the baker grew in Aziraphale’s mind.

The man was quick to anger, shouting at his apprentice for letting the baking fire die. Re-lighting it wasted so much time.

Jealous, too. He’d steal from his neighbour, little things that no one would realise were missing. But then he felt guilty, and gave what he stole to the apprentice, who often sold them so the boy could help feed his younger siblings.

He watched the people who visited, always had a kind word and a smile for the regulars. Worried when any of them didn’t show up, especially the older ones. He kept baskets of day-old bread to send to the homes of people who were sick.

Two days before the rain started, he got into an awful argument with his brother that ended in blows. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever talk again.

The last morning, he gave a loaf of bread for free to a scrawny stranger with red hair and black clothes, because it looked like the fellow hadn’t had enough to eat.

Aziraphale paused to wipe his eyes.

“You need a break?” Crawly asked. “You’ve had about a quarter of it.”

“No… yes… I just…” He sniffed, looking at the dancing lamplight, reflected in copper. “There’s so much.”

“Humans’re complicated.” The demon studied the loaf thoughtfully. “No matter how much you think you see, it’s only ever part of what they’ve got going on inside. Good, bad, clever, stupid… it all just sorta blends together. Like ingredients!” He perked up. “I think I can see how he made it. Might try it, if we ever get back to dry land.”

“I think he’d like that.” Aziraphale turned back, keeping his chin up. “So his grandmother’s recipe can go on.”

“Yeah. Um. Ready for more?”

The memories came in brief flares; already the last had almost faded away. “Yes, I think so.” But before Crawly could get the next bite ready, he blurted out, “Why are you doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“That isn’t an answer, Crawly.”

“It is, s’just a terrible one.” He tipped his head from side to side. “What do you think, another one of my complicated evil schemes?”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “From what I’ve seen, you simply do whatever you find most entertaining, then claim it was evil after the fact.”

Crawly shrugged. “That works. Having you around is definitely more entertaining than not. If this helps you stick around more, s’not that big a deal.”

“But… How do I know I can trust you?”

The demon hesitated, then held out one hand.

Aziraphale stared for a long while. “No, I… I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Well, it’s here whenever you are. Promise.” He went back to fussing with the bread. “Wanna try a big piece this time?”

“Yes, please.”

Aziraphale rested his head against the wall, listening to the creak of wood and the fall of rain. Outside, it was dark and lonely, the storm raging on. But in here—in the warmth and safety of his little room, his demonic companion beside him—here, he’d found… not quite peace, but a lifeline. One that, if he held on tight, could lead him to solid ground once again.

**

Six Thousand Years After Eden…

After all the rush and noise and panic of the day, the quiet of the bus ride was… surreal. The last of the passengers had stepped off some time ago, and the driver was operating in a strange, half-conscious state as if he were sleepwalking.

Next to Aziraphale, Crowley sat slumped in his chair, gazing out the window at the empty black night. He’d hardly said a word since they sat down. He liked to pretend, at moments like this, that he was thinking deep, important thoughts. 

Of course, Aziraphale knew better. He knew that Crowley’s exhaustion had caught up with him, leaving him drained and numb. That right now the demon’s mind was almost completely shut down, devoid of thoughts and emotions. He’d recover, once they were back in London, bounding from his seat with all his usual energy, but for now he was just resting. Drifting.

Aziraphale tried to watch out the windshield or one of the other windows, but the blackness unnerved him. It was as if the world really had ended, and the bus carried them now through an endless, eternal void. Reality left behind, somewhere in their distant wake.

He tried to ground himself, resting his hands on the back of the seat in front of him. Through the cheap fabric, he could feel every human who had ever sat here, hundreds of them, going to school, to work, going home to see their family, heading off to a new town for a fresh start.

They were all so complicated. So messy. Short lives packed with so much love and hate, hope and fear, so much boredom, so much longing. Such wonderful plans and dreams that would fall apart before their eyes, and they would mourn the loss, then find a new dream and start all over again…

And now they had the time for it. He didn’t know how much time, but the world hadn’t ended. Every day past this one would be an incredible gift.

For humanity. Not for him. Gabriel would not take his actions today well.

He’d thought he was ready. Aziraphale had stood up in the face of Heaven’s authority, turned down his part in the end of all things. Jumped back to Earth with no plan, no thought for the consequences, just the determination to stop this, stop it all, no matter the cost.

He’d assumed justice would be swift. That he would be killed or cast out of Heaven in an instant, before he had time to regret his decision. That would have made things much simpler. Instead, he found himself… just waiting. Drifting. Caught in the agony of expectation.

Beside him, Crowley stirred. “Angel? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” He smiled, blinking away the mist in his eyes. “Just thinking. Perhaps getting a bit morbid, but I suppose the situation calls for it.”

Crowley shifted, moving as close as he dared. Not close enough to touch. Never that. Aziraphale could feel the heat of him, all down his side, so much warmer, more immediate, than any other being he’d ever stood beside. “Maybe. But. It’s going to be alright.”

“Is it?” His hands clutched the seat a little tighter. “Because I–I’ve been thinking it through. Different possibilities. I think… I think they’re going to wait just long enough for us to put our guard down, and then—then—then…”

He had thoughts on what would come next, but he didn’t dare put any of them into words.

“We’ll find a way, Angel. Like you said. We can’t give up now.”

Aziraphale nodded, rubbing at his face. It was still dry, at least. “I’m not giving up, I just… I…” A few more possibilities flashed through his mind. “What does it feel like? To Fall?”

Another shift, Crowley’s hands twitching as they searched for something to grab onto. He settled for his own knees. “It sucks. Whatever you’re imagining, it’s worse than that.” Aziraphale nodded, despair setting in. “But, um. A lot of that is, you know. Other demons. Being Fallen on Earth… really not that bad.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Getting cast out of Heaven?” Crowely was silent for a long time. “Nh. You tell me.”

“Wh-what do you… I…” Perhaps it had been an insensitive question. “Yes, I imagine it must. To be forced out of your home, cut off from… from the rest of the host, left out alone in the cold, just… just…” 

“Drifting?”

Aziraphale stared out the windshield at the darkness ahead, trying to ignore the strange horror dawning inside him. “I… don’t know what you…”

“Angel.” That same delicate voice he’d used earlier, on the bench, reminding Aziraphale he didn’t have a side anymore. “They cast you out six thousand years ago. Not as… decisively as us, yeah, but. It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

“No…” He closed his eyes, fingers digging into the seat until the fabric gave way. “No…”

“At least I had the other demons, until they sent me away, too.” Aziraphale shook his head, trying not to listen. Trying to pretend he didn’t know what Crowley was saying. “Guess they shouldn’t be surprised how it all ended up, huh? Like, leave me among the humans for a couple millennia, treat me like a freak whenever I visit, what did they think was going to happen?”

A sob burst out and Aziraphale bent forward, resting his face on the backs of his hands. Not really trying to hide his tears—there’d be no point—but at least trying to keep his dignity intact.

“What’s wrong?” There was a note of panic in Crowley’s voice. “Aziraphale, talk to me!”

“I’m such… an idiot!” he managed, voice trembling. “I thought… I just thought… all those years… But they didn’t care.” The words tore him apart, though it wasn’t truly a realisation. More a confession of something he’d always known. “Not Gabriel, not… any of them. They never cared about me. I… I’ve been alone… for six thousand years…”

Crowley snorted with laughter. “Yeah. You are an idiot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale glared at him through the tears, indignation pulling him out of his dolour.

“You heard me. Six thousand years, yes, but, Angel…” He shook his head, almost exasperated. “You’ve never been alone.”

Then he held up his hand, offering.

They’d never really touched again, after that first time, so long ago. Brief contacts, carefully shielded, to prevent any spill of thoughts. The occasional careless brush, when they’d both had too much to drink. And of course, he’d touched Crowley’s Bentley, his wine, his James Bond DVDs. Quick glimpses of the demonic mind, transferred through the things he cared for. But never his hand.

Aziraphale stared at it now. Trying to remember why he’d objected, why he’d held out so long. Something about not letting Heaven down, or keeping up his defences around the enemy. Maintaining the distance that allowed him to do his job, follow orders, tell himself the lies that held him together. Excuse after excuse, until they’d come to the end of everything without it ever happening, and yet still, there it was, that same offer after thousands of years, waiting for him.

He took Crowley’s hand.

Emotions flooded through him again, just like the first time. Far more than anything he’d felt from a human, or even from Adam, the Antichrist himself. Clearer, sharper, more intense, like shards of glittering crystal launched into his soul.

Whip-smart intellect, always watching, calculating, studying every situation from every angle. Deep scars from an eternity of pain, loss, disappointment, over and over, cutting through every part of his memory. The crusty, sardonic shield of resentment Crowley wore like a pair of sunglasses. The wonder and joy they hid, marred and damaged after all this time, but nevertheless glowing like soft golden stars. The curiosity and optimism at the core of it all, still going strong if only out of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness.

And love. So much love, emanating from this strange, scrawny little demon, reaching out into the world to touch every person, every flower, every clever work of art, every fancy new gadget born from humanity’s endless hunger to learn and create. And, more than anything else, reaching out for Aziraphale. Coiling around him, surrounding him, drawing him close, keeping him safe. Always.

“There now, you see?” Crowley’s voice had gone rough, like he was straining to hold back tears. “Whatever else you think, I’m here. I’m always… always here.”

Aziraphale looked at him wonderingly, as if he’d never seen the demon before. None of it was surprising, by any means. He knew what Crowley was like, knew how much he cared, even if he denied it. But this… It was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. 

It was a warm familiar blanket, a hot drink on a cold day. A brilliant light on a dark night, illuminating his path. It was solid ground, safe harbour, a hand reaching out to guide him home.

It was Crowley. As simple as that. Aziraphale took his hand, and his mind was filled with Crowley.

Twining their fingers together, Aziraphale leaned close, until he could rest his head on that narrow shoulder, wrap an arm around his chest. Without a word, Crowley put his own arm around Aziraphale, drawing him even closer. Clinging to him. Supporting him. Just… being there.

“S’alright, Angel,” he whispered against Aziraphale’s brow. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll get through it.”

“I could almost believe it,” he whispered back, holding on as tightly as he could. Every word made Crowley’s presence grow stronger in his mind, more solid, more real. “So long as we’re together.”

“We better be,” Crowley laughed, rubbing Aziraphale’s back. “Cuz… whatever genius plan I come up with, it’s going to take both of us. Right?”

“Mmmmh.”

“Good. And after that…” He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s head, sending a wave of warmth through him like nothing he’d ever felt, chasing away every last trace of cold. “After that, we take care of each other. No matter what.”