Through the Years (Ineffable husbands...kind of)

9. 1941, London

As it turned out, the fight between Aziraphale and I was pretty big. I didn't hear from, or see her, for the rest of the 1860s. Or the 1870s. Or the 80s, or 90s, and well into the twentieth century. She was all I could think about for decades. I tried to find her, some twenty years after our fight having had enough, but she obviously did not want to be found. Sure, we had gone a while without seeing each other before, but this was different. This time, we both knew it was because there was something wrong. And that terrified me.

As the 1900s began, I decided I would try to forget about Aziraphale, that I didn't need her. Unfortunately, it's very hard to rid yourself of someone you've known for almost six thousand years, but I did my best. I would be lying though, if I said I wasn't overcome with joy when I came across the name Angel Z. Fell while keeping tabs on the Nazi spy ring.

I knew Aziraphale must have thought she was some heroic, double-dealing spy, because there was no way that she would voluntarily help Nazis, and with some more digging, I found that Aziraphale, who thought she was double crossing the Nazis, was being double crossed herself.

I determined that the culmination of encounters was to occur at a church in London, so I made my way over there, trying to listen to the exchange from outside the church so I didn't have to go in until absolutely necessary.

I couldn't make out much, but I heard Aziraphale giving over her books, then trying to double cross the spies with her agent friend, who then double crossed her. I heard the clicking of guns, and decided that was my cue.

As I entered, I heard the last-minute pleaing of the angel, who was about to be killed. "You can't kill me!" She protested. "There'll be paperwork!" She exclaimed sadly, reminding me of when I had caught her under similar circumstances in Paris all those years ago.

As I went farther in the church, interrupting the scene, everyone stared at me. I forgot what it was like to be in a church, my feet burned horribly, so I had to hop around like an idiot as I made my way down the aisle. "Sorry, consecrated ground." I explained as I neared everyone up front. "Oh! It's like being at the beach in bare feet!" I cried mournfully. But it was nothing compared to the emptiness and pain I'd felt in the decades since my fight with Aziraphale.

"What are you doing here?" Aziraphale demanded, approaching me. My God, she was a vision, a real sight for sore eyes, which I desperately was in need of; the two most recent world wars had been exceptionally gruesome, and made me lose more faith in humanity. She had on the cutest little get-up, a tight maroon dress with matching brown gloves and a little hairpiece that covered the top of her head and had large flowers of sorts attached to one side. Her hair wasn't as long as I was used to seeing it, but it wasn't short exactly. It was straight everywhere, except the ends, which curled slightly upwards. It looked like she had bangs also, which were arranged in curls very fitting with the 40s. Her hair color was different though, I think it must have been the low lighting, but it made it seem almost red, kind of like a strawberry blonde, very different from the usual light gold I was used to.

I was forced to return to the present, given the intensity of the situation. "Stopping you from getting into trouble!" I shouted. I would be a rich man if I was paid every time I saved Aziraphale from one thing or the other. The angel rolled her eyes and scoffed, annoyed that I was treating her like a small child, but also annoyed with herself, because she did need rescuing.

Aziraphale mistook my actions though, just as she had every time before. "I should have known, of course. These people are working for you." She said, looking back and forth between me and the Nazis.

"No," I defended myself, "they're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running around London, blackmailing and murdering people!" At this, the Nazis began to give me odd looks.