Chapter Text
1.
It was a few decades later after they’d watched the carpenter’s son bled out on a cross.
He wasn’t surprised at all to spot the angel there, holding his arms up and open, talking gently to a panicked brown horse, whose neigh drew yellow eyes toward that corner of the town’s square. Crowley’s heart did a cheerful little dance, then sank like a stone.
He put down the bucket of warm ashy water he was holding and sauntered casually toward the angel.
“Aziraphale.”
“Craw- Crowley! My goodness. Unusual weather for this time of year isn’t it?” The angel gave him a wide-eyed glance, a little out of breath, his left hand stroking soothingly up and down between the mare’s dark eyes.
“Haven’t noticed.” Crowley positioned himself as far away from the animal as possible. He never liked them, ugly hard-hoofed buggers. “Thought you were still in Rome cleaning up Vespasian’s mess.”
“Ah yes…he died a few months ago, poor man. Heard some unusual things about the mountain, thought I’d nip around to have a look.” Aziraphale turned to face Crowley, his lips pressed into a nervous line. “Have you heard anything from… your lot, maybe?”
“What do you mean?” Crowley’s heart sank further downwards and came to a rest around his toes. A family of terrified mice suddenly shot by between their sandalled feet. They both looked down.
“This, I mean, everything. Scared animals, earthquakes, hot rains…”
Crowley swallowed down a warm puff of metallic air and forced himself to meet the angel’s eyes. “No idea, came here mainly for the wine. I’m leaving soon anyway, want to see this whole business with the new emperor, Titus is it? Bet he’s more interesting than his old man…”
Aziraphale gave him a curious look. Crowley scratched his head, irritated with himself.
“Care to join me? Head back to Rome I mean…”
The horse suddenly leaped forward, dangerously missing Crowley’s toes, where his heart was. It galloped down the dirt road, leaving behind a red dusty mist.
“Oh bother! He was telling me about the…” Aziraphale disappeared with a flutter of wings.
Crowley let out a frustrated groan. He stood there for a bit, watching a few people passing through the square in a hurry. They rarely came out of the house these days, scared of all the snakes slithering around. As if a roof will protect them. He closed his eyes, blessed for a whole minute, and headed toward the mountain.
Three days later Crowley found Aziraphale in an alley, trying to create a miniature rain cloud with his hands. It hung a meter or so above their heads and gave a pathetic cough, splashed down a few cool drops.
“Why are you still here?” Crowley raised his voice in order to be heard over the roaring earth, the scathing wind.
Aziraphale let his arms drop. “You lied to me.” His voice was soft. Crowley heard every bit of wavering.
“We need to leave! Now! There’s nothing you can do. It’s happening today.” Crowley shouted urgently and raised his hand. It never landed on the angel’s shoulder, it just hovered.
“It’s your side isn’t it? You lied to me so I wouldn’t have the chance to stop it.”
“You ssstupid…listen! This is Satan himself, a thousand you plus a thousand me couldn’t stop it. My order was just to observe and check the progress…we need to get out of here!”
Crowley dodged something falling out of the sky. It was a dead pigeon. He sucked in a breath and put his hand on Aziraphale’s sooted elbow.
The angel took a violent step back and stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, his face dirty and tear-streaked. “They said not to do anything. Heaven is not doing anything Crowley! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Suddenly he couldn’t stand a second of it any more. The ground shuddering, burning sand raining down on their heads, the smell of sulphur and ash so strong it’s almost tangible. And in the center of it all, him.
Crowley grabbed a fistful of Aziraphale’s toga and slammed him against the red dirt wall.
“I didn’t tell you becaussse you’d rather burn in a big ball of flame than leave!”
The flash of fear in those grey blue eyes was like a bucket of cold water. Crowley blinked and suddenly felt dizzy. He let go of him and staggered a step backwards.
Aziraphale pulled himself immediately away from the wall. A pained whimper escaped.
Crowley froze.
He lifted a hand slowly. The wall was burning hot.
(Though it actually cooled down a little from the shock of a body pressed against it. It hasn't had anybody pressed against it since last week.)
A deep rumble came from the distance. So low and dark and ancient like something just woke up from a million years of slumber.
“Come on angel.” He couldn’t even find the energy to hide the pleading in his voice. Aziraphale’s lips trembled. But he moved a bit closer to Crowley.
“I’m sorry.” Crowley carefully snaked a few cool fingers on the small patch of red skin back of the angel’s neck where toga couldn’t protect. Aziraphale flinched but then slowly leaned toward Crowley’s arm, too heartbroken to say a single word.
They left for Rome, to watch the coronation of the new emperor. And Pompeii burned.