Angel and the Beast (A Good Omens fanfic)

Chapter 6

"Thank you again for the breakfast. It was truly scrumptious," said Aziraphale as he walked back from the dining room with Madame Tracy.
"Oh you're very much welcome, dear," Madame Tracy replied, "it was our pleasure."
Aziraphale paused. "Madame Tracy?" he asked.
"Yes dear?"
"If you don't mind me asking, why is everyone being so nice to me? Isn't it difficult having to put up with the Beast's temper as well as being under a curse?"
"The master's not as terrible as he appears, you know," said Madame Tracy. "He's actually quite nice once you get to know him."
Aziraphale gazed up a flight of stairs that climbed into shadows and bent around out of sight. "Newt mentioned something about the West Wing," he mused.
"Don't you worry about that, dear," replied Madame Tracy firmly. "How about you go explore the castle a bit more? There's some lovely artwork in the hallways."
"I'll be sure to have a look at them," said Aziraphale, beginning to walk away.
"Remember what I told you!" Madame Tracy called as she rolled away.

Aziraphale nodded and walked off in the opposite direction. When he no longer heard Madame Tracy's tea trolley, however, he turned around and headed straight for the staircase he had been looking at. Up and up the stairs he went, until he found a bedroom so grand that it surely belonged to the Beast.

The first thing he noticed, besides the four-poster bed, was a tapestry on the wall, depicting a mother, father, and their young son. They appeared to be nobility based on their clothing, but there were rips across the faces of the father and son, as if someone or something had clawed through the tapestry. The mother's face remained untouched.
The next thing Aziraphale's eyes moved to was a mirror beside the bed, or at least, a space on the wall where a mirror should be. The actual mirror itself lay broken on the floor in front of it, as if it had been ripped from the wall and dropped (or even thrown) on the ground.

And then, of course, he saw The Rose. Naturally, it is not that hard to notice a part of a room, no matter how small, that happens to be conspicuously covered in frost, even with a roaring fire not that far away. And that is exactly what Aziraphale saw - a frost-covered corner, with a rose, inside a bell jar on a small table, right in the middle of it. He slowly walked towards it, discovering that he felt colder nearly as soon as the toe of his shoe touched the icy floor.

And there it was; a red rose, floating in the bell jar, almost glowing with unknown ineffable power. Aziraphale found his hand moving of its own accord, reaching out to touch it. Just before his fingers could make contact with the glass however, Aziraphale was startled by the sound of a door being thrown open with a BANG. He turned around and found himself nearly face-to-face with the Beast, who loomed over him furiously.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT?" he bellowed.
"Nothing!" said Aziraphale, taking a step backwards.
"Don't you realize what you could have done?" The Beast's body language indicated anger, but his golden eyes were wide with fear. "GET OUT OF HERE! LEAVE! GO!"
Aziraphale ran. He fled the West Wing, and had to be careful not to trip as he made his way down the main staircase.
"Monsieur! Where are you going?" Newt called to Aziraphale.
"It was quite nice getting to know you all, but I'm afraid I have to leave!" he replied breathlessly as he continued hurrying. "Thank you for the breakfast!"
"Wait! No! You can't leave!" Newt cried.
"Stop him!" barked Shadwell.
But it was too late. Aziraphale had already slipped out the front door, and within no time at all he was riding Kamael out the gates and away.
"It's dangerous out there," Newt said feebly as he watched him go.
"Oh dearie me," said Madame Tracy.

Newt was right: it was dangerous out there. In order to get back to the village, Aziraphale had to ride through the forest again, and here was where problems arose. The forest, particularly on the outskirts of the castle, could reduce even the brightest day to darkness, and, as Aziraphale soon learned, there were wolves. They appeared from amongst the trees, letting out great howls of warning. Kamael and Aziraphale took off, trying to outrun them or at least lose them, but the wolves had chased them into a clearing where the ground was icy, and Kamael was forced to stop. Aziraphale dismounted just as one of the wolves made a lunge for Kamael, digging its claws into his rump. Aziraphale noticed a large tree branch lying on the ground and picked it up, jabbing it at the wolf. This worked to distract it, and Aziraphale became caught in a tug of war between him and the creature. It was his turn to become distracted, however, when he heard a low, ominous growl, from a wolf standing on a ledge only a few short metres from him. Its red eyes glowed in the darkness, as it bared it's rows of large, sharp fangs. It made a leap at him, and Aziraphale braced for impact, but it never came. Something, or someone, had caught the wolf in a mid-air side tackle and was now wrestling with it on the ground. This someone, Aziraphale realized, was in fact, the Beast. He grappled with the wolf, throwing it off only for another to make its move. Aziraphale turned to Kamael, planning to make a dash for it, but something stopped him. Instead he could only watch helplessly, as the beasts of the forest and the Beast of the castle fought it out, clawing and biting and rolling around.

Eventually, the Beast put in an extra burst of effort, and flung the current wolf off of him, rising to his feet. He let out an almighty roar, and the wolves were sent running with their tails between their legs. The Beast, his robes in tatters, watched them go, breathing heavily. He looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, something distinct but unreadable in his eyes, before his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the ground.

There was no hesitation in Aziraphale's mind this time. He hurried over to the Beast and removed his coat, loosely draping it over the Beast's shoulders. The Beast stirred, looking up at him dazedly.
"Thank you for saving me," Aziraphale whispered, bending down. "I wish to return the favour, but you have to help me. You have to stand up."
Carefully, Aziraphale helped the Beast to his feet, and managed to get him onto Kamael's back.
And so, with the Beast on Kamael, and Aziraphale leading Kamael by the reins, the three of them made their way back to the castle.

"Master! You've returned!" said Newt as the Beast, now leaning on Aziraphale, entered the castle. "And Monsieur?..."
"I'll explain later," said Aziraphale. "Get the medical supplies. He's hurt."

After a few minutes of gentle movements and assistance from the castle staff, the Beast lay in his bed, Aziraphale gently cleaning his wounds with a cloth and warm soapy water, causing the Beast to roar in pain.
"OW! That hurts!" he cried.
"It you held still, it wouldn't hurt as much," said Aziraphale calmly.
"If you hadn't run off like that, we wouldn't be in this mess," the Beast muttered.
"I believe your instructions were quite clear when you told me to 'get out of here', 'leave', and 'go'," Aziraphale replied.
"Well you shouldn't have been in the West Wing!"
"Perhaps not, but perhaps you should learn to control your temper!"
The Beast said nothing, instead he huffed and turned away from Aziraphale. With his shirt removed, Aziraphale could see the plethora of claw marks that the wolves had left on the Beast's back. He considered using the cloth on them, but decided against it, at least for now.
"Sleep well," said Aziraphale quietly, and he turned to leave.
"Thank you, for what you did, dear," said Madame Tracy, who had been watching the scene unfold along with the rest of the castle staff.
"We really are truly grateful," said Newt.

Aziraphale sat down on the far corner of the bed. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you care about him as much as you do?" he asked.
"We've looked after him all his life," said Madame Tracy.
"We're all he's got, really," added Newt.
Aziraphale glanced over at the ripped tapestry. "What about his parents?"
"The Master lost his mother when he was just a young boy," Madame Tracy explained. "She was very ill, and there was nothing that could be done. And his father, well..."
"Wouldn't know the meaning o' love if it came and smacked him upside the head!" Shadwell cut in.
"Yes, I suppose you could say that," said Madame Tracy. "He never had much time for the Master, you see."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Aziraphale. He looked over his shoulder at the Beast, who was sleeping soundly. "And the curse? How did it happen?"
"That was his father's doing, I'm afraid," said Madame Tracy. "He and the Master had a bit of a row over things."
"That's an understatement," Shadwell muttered. Madame Tracy continued.
"The Master's a good man, really, but if there's one thing he inherited from his father, it was his sharp tongue."
"Aye, his heart's in the right place, but he dinnae ken when to pull his head in sometimes," Shadwell agreed.
Aziraphale looked over at the rose, still as gleaming as it was when he first saw it, the surrounding area still as cold. "What happens when the last petal falls?" he asked.
"The master will be stuck as a beast forever," said Newt, "and we will be even more stuck like this forever."
"Nothing but worn-out old housewares," said Shadwell.
"Antiques," Madame Tracy added.

"Surely the curse is breakable somehow," said Aziraphale questioningly.
"Well, now that you mention it-" Shadwell began, before being cut off by Newt with a quick bonk to the head (or top of the clock, anyhow).
"Don't you worry about it, dear," said Madame Tracy, in much the same way as she told him not to worry about the West Wing. "We promised to always make sure that the Master was safe and looked after, and if that means sticking with him through a curse, then so be it."

Aziraphale looked back at the rose just in time to see another petal fall from it. Behind him, the Beast, still asleep, made a noise that could almost be described as a whimper.