They'd been there from the start, and it was business before it was a morbid fascination, and a morbid fascination before it was a fond one, but even when they had more or less given up, and meddled in small places because meddling in the big places didn't do any good, it was still a business. Even for Aziraphale.
Loss of innocence is like that.
Crowley hadn't said anything about this Crusade when he showed up in Palestine in the wake of it. He had, however, brought along as much good wine as an angel could drink and claimed his plan had been to sell it to the Christian soldiers. He knew Aziraphale saw right through that, as they had started home nearly a year and a half before, and angels and demons got news quickly regardless of the century.
He also poured more wine and listened to the angel's increasingly incoherent rants about how humanity could be so utterly stupid at times and how he missed his books and scrolls.
"Did you ever think about going back?" Crowley asked suddenly, breaking into Aziraphale's ramblings about King Richard and the Sultan and how they really would get along splendidly if they had bothered to stop the war.
Aziraphale looked up from the wine. "I beg your pardon?"
Crowley grinned, showing slightly sharper-than-human teeth. "You know, to Eden. Isn't that where they're trying to get in the end?"
The angel's brow wrinkled. "Are they?"
"Yes, angel. Let's go back to Eden."
***
It's changed. The Tigris and the Euphrates are still there, and there's still a little patch of not-quite-real-estate that held, once upon a time, all the wonders of Creation. But now it's empty, and it's another jungle. A place of slightly sheepish predators and slightly hopeful prey, because there's still just a hint of a glow.
Aziraphale, who was never a great fan of drunken flight with a demon in tow, scowled. "Why are we here, Crowley?"
Crowley waved a hand vaguely. He probably ought to have sobered up. "Because sometimes it's nice to go back. To where it all started, you know."
"No, Crawly, I don't."
Crowley pouted. "Now, angel, y'don'haveta do that." He considered it for a moment. "You're sober, aren't you?"
"Mostly, yes."
Crowley sighed and winced, forcing alcohol out of his blood stream. "Sometimes, angel, it's nice to go back because we can see our side of the cosmic chessboard from here, sort of thing."
"Oh?"
"They're all trying to get back here."
"So you said."
"But they can't."
Aziraphale sighed. "I can see that. It wasn't precisely easy for us to get back, my dear, and we weren't cast out of it."
"That's not what I mean." Crowley waved a hand vaguely, trying to fully take in his meaning. "They're trying to get back to what it used to be. And it's not there anymore. We can't even go back to Eden. But this is what, the third time Europe's tried to go back to the place?"
Aziraphale scowled. "And every time they try they get farther away from it. The blood, the destruction . . . they don't get it, Crowley! So many of them don't even check to make sure they're actually enemies!"
They stared at each other for a moment, the angel panting angrily.
"Only some of them," Crowley answered. "And Europe's finally on its way out of the Dark Ages."
Aziraphale glared and grumbled something about Rome.
"Undoubtably," Crowley answered. "Rome was a lot more interesting. Our little baby Europe is growing up, angel. And teenagers always belong to my side."
Aziraphale shook his head. "They do."
Crowley grinned. "We should go back to it and raise it right. You know, as bright and upstanding as you want it, and just wicked enough to stay interesting."
"You brought me all the way to Eden to tell me that?"
"Sure. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if . . . if G- He - "
Aziraphale smiled. "If God intended peopel to mature by trying to regain lost innocence?"
"When you put it like that, it sounds so cheesy," Crowley complained. He climbed a hill towards a familiar-looking tree. "One thing still tastes the same in Eden, though. Well, two, really." Now the grin was almost lecherous. "Shall we try them both?"
Sometimes Crowley is far too perceptive for his own good. . . .
They'd been there from the start, and it was business before it was a morbid fascination, and a morbid fascination before it was a fond one, but even when they had more or less given up, and meddled in small places because meddling in the big places didn't do any good, it was still a business. Even for Aziraphale.
Loss of innocence is like that.
Crowley hadn't said anything about this Crusade when he showed up in Palestine in the wake of it. He had, however, brought along as much good wine as an angel could drink and claimed his plan had been to sell it to the Christian soldiers. He knew Aziraphale saw right through that, as they had started home nearly a year and a half before, and angels and demons got news quickly regardless of the century.
He also poured more wine and listened to the angel's increasingly incoherent rants about how humanity could be so utterly stupid at times and how he missed his books and scrolls.
"Did you ever think about going back?" Crowley asked suddenly, breaking into Aziraphale's ramblings about King Richard and the Sultan and how they really would get along splendidly if they had bothered to stop the war.
Aziraphale looked up from the wine. "I beg your pardon?"
Crowley grinned, showing slightly sharper-than-human teeth. "You know, to Eden. Isn't that where they're trying to get in the end?"
The angel's brow wrinkled. "Are they?"
"Yes, angel. Let's go back to Eden."
***
It's changed. The Tigris and the Euphrates are still there, and there's still a little patch of not-quite-real-estate that held, once upon a time, all the wonders of Creation. But now it's empty, and it's another jungle. A place of slightly sheepish predators and slightly hopeful prey, because there's still just a hint of a glow.
Aziraphale, who was never a great fan of drunken flight with a demon in tow, scowled. "Why are we here, Crowley?"
Crowley waved a hand vaguely. He probably ought to have sobered up. "Because sometimes it's nice to go back. To where it all started, you know."
"No, Crawly, I don't."
Crowley pouted. "Now, angel, y'don'haveta do that." He considered it for a moment. "You're sober, aren't you?"
"Mostly, yes."
Crowley sighed and winced, forcing alcohol out of his blood stream. "Sometimes, angel, it's nice to go back because we can see our side of the cosmic chessboard from here, sort of thing."
"Oh?"
"They're all trying to get back here."
"So you said."
"But they can't."
Aziraphale sighed. "I can see that. It wasn't precisely easy for us to get back, my dear, and we weren't cast out of it."
"That's not what I mean." Crowley waved a hand vaguely, trying to fully take in his meaning. "They're trying to get back to what it used to be. And it's not there anymore. We can't even go back to Eden. But this is what, the third time Europe's tried to go back to the place?"
Aziraphale scowled. "And every time they try they get farther away from it. The blood, the destruction . . . they don't get it, Crowley! So many of them don't even check to make sure they're actually enemies!"
They stared at each other for a moment, the angel panting angrily.
"Only some of them," Crowley answered. "And Europe's finally on its way out of the Dark Ages."
Aziraphale glared and grumbled something about Rome.
"Undoubtably," Crowley answered. "Rome was a lot more interesting. Our little baby Europe is growing up, angel. And teenagers always belong to my side."
Aziraphale shook his head. "They do."
Crowley grinned. "We should go back to it and raise it right. You know, as bright and upstanding as you want it, and just wicked enough to stay interesting."
"You brought me all the way to Eden to tell me that?"
"Sure. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if . . . if G- He - "
Aziraphale smiled. "If God intended peopel to mature by trying to regain lost innocence?"
"When you put it like that, it sounds so cheesy," Crowley complained. He climbed a hill towards a familiar-looking tree. "One thing still tastes the same in Eden, though. Well, two, really." Now the grin was almost lecherous. "Shall we try them both?"