(no subject)

[a_fell]

I.

They arrive in Iceland in near-darkness concealing a dense, freezing fog that gives way to low clouds once outside of Reykjavik. It's a long drive to the tiny village of Laugarvatn, 70 miles in the blackness, and when they finally reach the place they're spending the night (to call it a hotel would imply there are more than six rooms), they're too tired to do more than kick their shoes off before falling into bed.

The next morning isn't much of a morning; it's lightening by the time Crowley is conscious enough to get out of bed with some prompting from the angel, fully daylight after he gets through the shower, and it doesn't take much longer than that to get the lay of the land. The town has 300 people, a post office, grocery store, restaurant, and not much tourism in the winter. It's hard to stay under the radar in such a place, so the few hours of daylight are spent asking quietly for the best sites to see the aurora and watching the cloudy skies, tense and dark. The sun, never far above the horizon, sinks slowly into a hesitant twilight. And then it's time to go.

The jeep-shaped vehicle they borrow from the nice gentleman at the (surprisingly open) tourist office bumps along over patches of rock and ice and who knows what else; Aziraphael is less than comfortable with what they might be rolling over with 'adventure' style suspension and no visible road. The headlamps illuminate a small patch of sameness directly in front, and the rest of the world around them is an unknowable black. All the ground that he can see is a grayish white dotted with darker patches of jutting rock. The heat blasting in the vehicle is just short of oppressive, but Crowley's face behind the wheel is grim and uncomfortable. Aziraphael tries moving one hand to the edge of Crowley's seat so that the side of his finger brushes the material of the demon's trousers, but he can't tell whether Crowley actually notices.

"I think the clouds might be lightening up," he says encouragingly. "I'm almost certain I saw a star or two over there."

Comments

[aj_crawley]

Whatever it is - whatever it was tinging Crowley's expression, it's seeping away, leaving only a dull, grey frustration in its place.

"I'll wait," he says. "Do what you like. I'll - " he stumbles over his words a bit; simply jerks his head towards the jeep instead. "Wait."

He turns on his heel, before Aziraphael can start to argue the point.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael watches him silently until he's sure that the footsteps crunching over the ice are bringing Crowley towards the jeep. He stares upward again at the tempting, shifting ribbon of green light, tendrils filtering straight down as though through water. Miles and miles. He hears the car door close.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, though it's unlikely that anyone can hear him. There's a rustling sound as his coat arranges itself around newly-manifested wings. It's a trick he learned from watching Crowley; only a small cheat, but he feels it's going to be necessary as he takes off.

[aj_crawley]

The engine's still running (of course), and the heater's still on (of course); the sudden, solid wave of heat is almost painful on Crowley's icy skin. A rough jerk of his hand flips the headlights on, and he winces into the glare.






He thumps the wheel once, twice, then scrubs his face with shaking hands.






When he can close his fingers around the knob to turn it, he tips his seat back a few degrees - the better to rest his forehead against the window, and watch Aziraphael grow smaller against the light.

(Why he thinks the angel won't freeze up and fall out of the sky if he's watching him, Crowley doesn't rightly know. But there you go.)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

It’s even longer than he’d expected. Up and up and up and up. He’s been half-prepared for this to be a disappointing illusion, some trick of refraction that appears farther away the harder he tries to approach it. To his surprise, the lights do seem to get closer, but the process is achingly slow. After a while the air grows thinner, and once he reaches a point where beating his wings against it hardly keeps him aloft, he gives another wink to logic and gravity so that he can continue.

There’s no boundary that he crosses, per se, but at some point he slows from the breakneck (and unlikely, if he’d been bound by physics) pace he’s set thus far. There are colours standing out strongly to the east and west, and above him he can see black sky through the glowing mist. The ribbon’s edge that appeared so sharp-edged from below is here much less solid, like a cloud that seems so much more than a collection of water droplets until one is inside.

The perspective doesn’t make it any less impressive, however. With some relief, he follows the course of the aurora now, moving slowly and gaping into a glowing fog. His eyes can’t seem to take in enough of it, and he keeps pausing to turn in different directions. He’s used to seeing incredible things in the natural world, in human nature, even in things created by human hands. But being in the centre of a physical manifestation of raw Creation, stunning and so much larger than himself, and simply a part of Earth’s natural spectacle... well, miraculous is the best word he has for it. The little tweaks that got him here barely even register. It’s a pulse of life, the lights shifting around him. He feels a part of a celestial dance usually reserved for the stars.

It’s glorious. Ineffable.

[aj_crawley]

It was Aziraphael, the first time. Who chided him gently out of his car with a tyre iron in his hand, who shook the other and walked with him to face the end of all things.

Crowley doesn't understand.

All things. Maybe that's the difference. Angels love all things. One man, or another. One planet, or another.

(It's warm in the car, and cold outside. His slow breath fogs on the window, misting the aurora into a single shimmering cloud in front of him.)

They love all things under Himself.

(They love all things, below Himself.)

T h e y  -  w e l l ,  t h e y ' r e  a n g e l s

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

It's the sound of the passenger door opening that jolts him back to the present, and a very cold angel climbs in. Aziraphael is windblown and wide-eyed and half-laughing, and there are tears frozen on his cheeks which begin to melt as soon as he gets in range of the heat inside, closing the door against the cold.

"Crowley," he gasps, his face shining. "Crowley, it's - oh, it's like it's alive. Not really alive, you know what I mean, but it's moving, and there's light above and below and everywhere you look, and it's like there's a glowing road stretching out in front of you, and it goes on forever, I think it's a circle, and there's just - there's nothing like it, anywhere, I feel like I've put my hand on the pulse of the whole world."

He pauses for an unnecessary breath, beaming.

[aj_crawley]

"Wuh," Crowley says, sunglasses half-askew on his face. "Hm? What?"

He feels heavy. Like he could sleep for days. But there's something, there's something in Aziraphael's tone, an urgency, that keeps him trying to focus his eyes.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He laughs again - or sort of laughs through his chattering teeth - right up until he reminds himself that all this shivering really isn't necessary.

"The aurora. From the inside, it's." He shakes his head, and fresh tears threaten to replace the ones thawing on his cheeks.

"It was worth the trip."

[aj_crawley]

Something something pulse of the whole world, and what (Crowley finally pushes himself upright on one elbow) silly bugger put his seat back?

When he tries to rub his eyes, he dislodges his sunglasses, swears fuzzily as they bounce from his lap to the floor, and then notices that Aziraphael's eyes are red. And that there are wet trails on his face that only start halfway down his cheeks.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Light like I've never seen," he muses happily. "And alive, did I mention that? The path was so clear."

He sniffles loudly, rubbing his gloved hands together. His eyes are still far away.

[aj_crawley]

There's nothing like it, anywhere. I feel like I've put my hand on the pulse of the whole world. That was it.

(Probably.)

"You're crying," Crowley says accusingly.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Hmm?" he says dreamily. "Oh, I. Yes," he says, swiping a hand ineffectually over one eye. "It's quite overwhelming; I'm sure I haven't done it justice. A circle, did I say so already? I'm almost certain. Curving off to the east."

He seems to remember himself for just a moment, and turns his dazed smile on the sleepy demon.

"Thank you for waiting, my dear."

[aj_crawley]

He squints.

"I fell asleep."

(There's something bubbling up behind his breastbone, but everything in his veins is slow, sluggish. It'll take a while to reach his brain.)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Mmm," he says diplomatically. "Perhaps you did. But I can tell you every detail, if you like, once you're awake. It's not the sort of thing one forgets."

[aj_crawley]

"Yes," he says, nodding until it (quite rapidly) becomes apparent to him that this is a Bad Idea.

But then:

The path was so clear.

Crowley practically invented Bad Ideas.

When he leans over to kiss Aziraphael, hand fisted tight in the angel's coat, it's solemn, and clumsy, and the demon's lips are like sandpaper.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael's are still cold, but they warm up quickly enough. When he pulls back there's still a dazed look in his eyes, but more of an earthbound variety.

Well, more or less.

His hand on Crowley's shoulder (how did that get there?) still has thick gloves covering it - a plaid compromise from the mittens Crowley'd told him were impractical.

[aj_crawley]

As expected, this hasn't done much to help the dense, tired dizziness centred just above Crowley's eyebrows. After a moment (a long one, silent and full, his thumb stroking against Aziraphael's coat), rather than lean back again, he simply lowers his forehead to Aziraphael's shoulder.

"Don't think I should drive yet."

Not for another little while.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"No, probably not," he agrees, sliding the hand around from Crowley's shoulder to the back of his neck.

"I'd suggest a nap, but I have the feeling that once you sleep, you're going to stay asleep for quite a while." And the slow fingers moving over the nape of Crowley's neck aren't going to help, either.

"I could tell you about it while you drive, when you're ready. To keep you awake."

A kiss on the top of Crowley's ear is not a step toward waking him up, Aziraphael knows, but right now he doesn't actually think he could help it.

[aj_crawley]

"Yes," he says again, against the angel's coat.







His eyes slam open, and he sits up with a start, shaking his head.

"Mm," he says, clearing his throat. "Hrm. Don't let me fall asleep."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He takes a deep breath, sitting up from the slouch he'd adopted over the last minute or so.

"Right," he says, suddenly businesslike. "Let's start driving now, and on the way I'll tell you all about it." He eyes Crowley, still blinking sleepily.

"It isn't as though you could run off any sort of road."

[aj_crawley]

"And 's only about half an hour," he agrees (though looking, it must be said, somewhat uncertain).

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Or I could drive," he offers hesitantly.

"It would almost guarantee that you stayed awake, if only to explain what I was doing wrong," he adds with a small smile.

[aj_crawley]

Firmly: "No. Um. No."



He lays his hands on the wheel, pauses, and then instead rubs briskly at his colourless face.

After that, he bends to retrieve his sunglasses from the floor.

Then he takes the wheel, breathing in, long and deep, and then out, as the jeep starts to move.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael rubs briskly on the back of the shoulder he can reach.

"It was even farther away than I thought, far enough that the air was considerably thinner. You would think there was a solid edge to it, looking from here, wouldn't you? But the change was much more gradual..."

He peppers his story with questions as they drive, just to make sure the demon isn't drifting off.