Ineffable

Brooklyn

March 2020

In the beginning of January coronavirus had just seemed like an idea. By the end of March, the whole world had shut down.

Crowley and Aziraphale walked through the deserted streets of London, masks on their faces. An occasional dog walker hurried past, giving them wide berth. Picadilly circus was abandoned. They walked down the center of Regent Street, unimpeded by cars. It was a raw day, the clouds low in the sky, the wind cutting and cold.

"I thought Armageddon was going to be bad," said Crowley. "But I never could have imagined... this."

They made their way back to Aziraphale's flat and ordered a pizza. Neither of them felt like cooking. Aziraphale opened a bottle of wine and they sat down by the gas fireplace.

"I just don't know how this could have happened," said Aziraphale as he stared glumly into the flames.

"Well..." Crowley squirmed in his chair.

"What?" Aziraphale looked at him sharply. Crowley watched uncomfortably as the light of understanding dawned in his angelic blue eyes.

"Nothing," said Crowley, looking away.

"You? Covid 19 is you?" Aziraphale pointed a righteous finger at Crowley. He turned very pale, and then very pink and then a kind of purple. "You? You did this?"

"Not all of it," muttered Crowley. He studied the floor. A dust bunny at the edge of the threadbare oriental carpet seemed unexpectedly fascinating, and he could not look away.

"Crowley," said Aziraphale. "Did you.....invent Coronavirus?"

"I didn't invent it," said Crowley. "Even a demon can't create a virus."

"They're digging mass graves in Tehran!" Aziraphale sputtered. "They're using refrigerator trucks as morgues in Brooklyn! Bodies on the streets of Santiago!"

Aziraphale's eyes were blazing with fire. Crowley was afraid. He cowered before the angel's holy indignation.

"Look outside! Just look at the streets of London! The city we love! It's a ghost town!"

Crowley hadn't seen Aziraphale in full righteous anger in a very long time. Centuries, if the truth be told. The persona of the avenging angel didn't really suit modern times and Aziraphale had adapted.

"I had to," Crowley said weakly. "Beezlebub himself told me to.....special assignment. If I hadn't done....something, I would have given us away."

"Us," said the angel

That one syllable, uttered with the utmost scorn, sent a chill right through the demon. If he'd had a heart it would have dropped into his stomach.

"Yes," said Crowley. "What's wrong with protecting us?"

"You would cause this much death and destruction? This mayhem? To protect us?"

Crowley didn't know what to say.

"Go away, Crowley," said Aziraphale. He sat down heavily in a chair and put his head in his hands. The avenging fire that had made him appear so powerful moments before was gone. He seemed old, defeated and tired.

"Go away?" repeated Crowley.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know why I thought this would ever work. I've been incredibly stupid. Just ....go."

Crowley didn't know what to do. Aziraphale didn't look up or speak again. Crowley felt an unfamiliar emotion, one he had not felt in millenia. This was what it had felt like, to be banished from heaven.