Chapter Text
4000 BC
Aziraphale stiffened as he felt something materialize beside him. He turned swiftly, lifting his wing to observe the apparition, for an apparition it must be. She had created two humans, not three. Unlike Adam and Eve, this being wore a strange garment that barely clung to his body.
The figure was crouching on the ground, one hand to his chest as he gazed up, his golden-brown eyes struggling to perceive the ethereal being washed out by a newborn sun.
“Angel?” he choked.
Aziraphale bent down and squinted at the man, mystified. “Yes,” he replied. “What...what are you?” He cocked his head with interest as the man struggled to respond. His exposed skin was covered in liquid as red as his hair, and mottled with dark black and purple marks.
The redhead’s eyes fluttered open and closed. “It’s fitting I should end up here. The beginning.” He laughed mirthlessly.
The angel furrowed his brow before brightening. “The beginning...yes! The sixth day, to be exact.”
The man slumped back as if he couldn’t sit upright any longer. His head knocked against the stone wall that divided the garden from the rest of creation and Aziraphale became concerned.
“Are you alright?” he asked, fretting as he contemplated fetching the humans for help. He’d never seen anything suffer. She hadn’t invented the concept yet.
“I’m fine,” the redhead assured him. He smiled and faltered. Small droplets of water fell from his eyes.
The angel reached out and caught one of the jewels on his finger. “You don’t seem like it,” he argued. “You’re leaking!”
The man chuckled and choked back a sob at the same time. “It’s just...I can’t think of what to say. I don’t want it to be the end.”
Aziraphale was very confused. “It’s not! We just established that this is the beginning.”
“Of course,” the redhead replied, but didn’t sound very convincing. He was trembling slightly and it made the angel restless.
“I’m going to get Eve,” he said, but a hand on his forearm halted him. The blonde looked down at the wet, sticky fingers against his skin. The man had a strong smoky scent about him, mixed with something tinny.
“No,” the man wheezed, his grip tightening. “Stay with me. Please. I don’t know how much longer I have.”
“Do you have to go somewhere?” the angel asked.
The redhead blinked and nodded before biting his lower lip. He stared at the garden around them, marveling at the perfection of the sanctuary as he choked back tears. “It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.” He coughed and choked while the angel tried to comfort him.
“You’re a being of love,” the man said when he could speak again.
“I am,” Aziraphale asserted proudly.
“So you can feel it, can’t you? It’s all around you,” the man cried piteously. “All the time.”
The angel smiled serenely at him. “Yes.”
“Can you feel mine?” the man pleaded, his breaths softening.
Something tickled on the edges of the angel’s consciousness and he gasped, flung back as he reacted to a shock of overwhelming feeling, but the sensation fled as quickly as it came. He opened his eyes and saw only empty space before him. The man...or whatever he was, had simply vanished.
Aziraphale looked down at his arm to see the smeared red stains the man had left behind. It was the only evidence he’d ever been there at all.
3004 BC
“Aziraphale! Fancy meeting you here!”
The angel turned at the sound of his name and his jaw dropped. The redheaded man from the garden was swaggering up to him, dressed as a female servant.
“It’s you!” he stated rather obviously before snapping his mouth shut to stop gaping. “How do you know my name?”
The redhead’s devious smile abandoned him. “You say that like we’ve never met before.”
Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s been some time ago but I’d remember if I’d offered my name. What are you doing here?” He reached out with his angelic energy to scan for any signs of evil, but found none.
“Just...checking things out,” the man answered hesitantly. “I heard some guys talking down at the tavern.” He pointed toward the large building project taking place before them. “Moses, right?”
“Who?” the angel blinked.
“Or Jonah? There’s too many waterworks in the Bible,” the man said to himself.
“What’s the Bible?” Aziraphale pressed.
“Uhhhhh,” the redhead uttered. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Who are you?” the angel demanded, tiring of their bizarre conversation.
“Oh, right.” The man looked pained. “Anthony J. Crowley. Just Crowley’s fine.”
“I see,” the blonde pondered to himself. “Why do you have so many names?”
Crowley cringed and waved the topic away. “No reason. I see I’m just in time for...for whatever this is. I have no idea, obviously.”
“Noah is building an ark,” Aziraphale explained. “It’s said that She’s sending a great flood to cleanse the earth of sin.”
Crowley watched as pairs of animals were marched into a temporary barn. His lower lip wavered before popping out. “Too bad they can’t fit everything on that boat.”
“Well that’s rather the point,” the angel offered.
Crowley’s eyes narrowed angrily. “The animals.The plants. All the people. Think about it, angel! Even the kids will drown!”
Aziraphale started and it was obvious he’d never considered the actual ramifications. “Oh,” he said, eyes widening. He looked away and cleared his throat. “You seem very concerned with their lot. It almost makes you sound like one of them. A human, I mean.” He’d known several now with exceptionally long life spans, but over a thousand years was pushing it.
“What else would I be? An aardvark?” Crowley said irritably.
Aziraphale started to open his mouth but the redhead interrupted. “Nevermind.”
“Well...if you’re just a regular, typical human male, perhaps you can answer one simple question for me?” the angel posited. Crowley lifted his eyes to the heavens.
“Go on.”
“Why are you dressed like a woman?”
Crowley batted his lashes as he looked down, gently lifting the black fabric of his tunic. “Am I?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “You really don’t know? Where are you from?”
The redhead stuttered for a moment. “Uhhh London. Tiny...village. You wouldn’t know it. Our um...customs are very different there.” It didn’t sound particularly convincing, but Aziraphale let it go. Something else floated back from his memory in its stead.
“You were hurt!” he suddenly accused, eyes scanning over Crowley’s body. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I understand now that you were injured. You’ve healed up then?”
The redhead looked at him with barely disguised bewilderment. “Erm...right. Did I look that bad? Last time we met?” Aziraphale could see the concern in his eyes.
“Well...yes, actually. You looked like you had one foot in the grave. You don’t remember?”
Crowley chuckled lamely. “Course I remember. Just uh...checking.” He cleared his throat and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. The conversation died down, and Aziraphale turned his attention back to the ark. The boat was large, but not to the extent of holding the entire human and animal population.
“They’re running out of time. I hope it will be enough,” he said. “I heard She’s going to send something called a Rain Bow as a promise to never do it again.”
Crowley chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. That’ll make up for it.”
Aziraphale swiveled his head to chastise the redhead, but Crowley was already gone.
1450 BC
Aziraphale was walking through the market when he saw Crowley lurking in an alley between two buildings. The man was half naked with nothing more than a wrap around his waist.
“Crowley!” he hissed as he approached. “How is this possible? There is no way you could have survived all this time if you were human! And don’t give me that aardvark nonsense!”
The redhead blinked in confusion. “Aardvark?” He shook his head. “Listen angel, I need your help. I wasn’t exactly prepared to deal with this today, though I never am I guess. Do you think you could spare a tiny miracle to get me some appropriate attire?”
“First tell me what you are!” Aziraphale demanded. “This shouldn’t be possible.” Looking closer, the redhead appeared even younger than the last time they’d met.
“I’m human,” Crowley insisted. “A traveler. Is this..is this the first time I’m explaining it to you?” He hummed and started counting on his fingers while the angel looked on.
“Humans don’t live for thousands of years!” Aziraphale hissed.
“No, not typically. Thousands? When are we?” Crowley glanced around and squinted at their surroundings. “Are those the pyramids?”
“I’m going to need an explanation that’s not constantly punctuated by inarticulate nonsense,” the angel said, tapping his foot in irritation. Crowley gave him an obvious once over.
“So cute when you’re tetchy,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Look, I can give you a proper explanation. Mind if we pop in somewhere more private?” He tugged on his towel and the angel relented, waving him into a miraculously empty tent nearby.
“Well?” Aziraphale demanded.
Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” the angel persisted.
The redhead snorted. “Yeah, right. Heard that one before. Okay, so I’m a traveler, like I said. I go to all types of different places, but not the way one usually does.”
Aziraphale shook his head emphatically. “What does that mean?”
“It’s time,” Crowley attempted to clarify. “Time and space, technically. I don’t choose it. I can’t control it. But I go all the same. I’m just sitting somewhere, right? Trying to live my ordinary life and then...poof! I find myself in some random place hundreds or even thousands of years in the past. Sometimes it’s only a few decades... It’s rarely in order so it’s hard to keep track of everything.”
“You travel through time...” the angel deadpanned. “How?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” Aziraphale laughed outright and Crowley frowned. “Why do I even bother? You won’t accept it until the Crucifixion anyways.”
“That nasty trend started by the Bablyonians? Who’s getting crucified?” Aziraphale fretted.
Crowley quickly changed the subject. “You asked and I answered. Honestly. I travel through time and end up in random places. Except they aren’t so terribly random. It’s always where you are.”
“Where I am?” the angel repeated.
“Like a tether,” Crowley said softly. “You’re my constant. Listen, um...there’s a lot I know about you and the future, but I might not always. It depends on where I’m at in my timeline when we meet. It helps when you give me updates. We compare notes and go from there.”
Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief. “This is insane. I’m not playing along with it.”
The redhead sighed and scrubbed at the sandy ground with his bare toes. “I wish you were here to knock some sense into yourself," he muttered. "Would make my life so much easier.”
“I am here,” Aziraphale objected.
Crowley laughed. “I know, I just...nevermind. Have you thought about that miracle at least?” He gestured to his bare chest hopefully.
The blonde tutted. “It’s hardly worth it. You’re just going to perform your vanishing act again.”
The redhead frowned. “I can’t control that!” he whined. “I might be here for a week or months for all I know!”
“I see,” Aziraphale chuckled.
Crowley exhaled slowly. He wasn’t going to get any help here.
The angel batted his lashes sweetly. “Well, since you’re obviously an expert in surviving such difficult situations, I’m sure you’ll come through this one with flying colors as well.” He stood up and walked out of the tent, leaving Crowley to figure out the clothing situation on his own.
-
Crowley tried to keep his head down during the plagues that followed. The water turning to blood was patently disgusting yet avoidable, but the frogs, which were on the menu days later, were proving almost impossible to bypass. He carefully stepped over the hopping menaces on his way to the tavern, hoping to barter for a drink. On his way he nearly walked past the angel, who was currently blessing a young girl with a dreadful case of batrachophobia .
“Oh,” Aziraphale frowned as he caught sight of him. “You again.”
“Me again,” the redhead agreed with a charming smile. “And again, and again, and well...you’ll get the point eventually.”
“I’d prefer if you moved along,” the angel said brusquely. “I’ve just had a memo from head office that these plagues are only going to get worse, and I can’t deal with your fabrications on top of everything else.”
“Fabrications?” Crowley spat. “All I’ve done is tell you the truth!”
“Hmph,” Aziraphale returned. “I’ve absolutely no reason to believe anything you say.”
“Let’s not row,” Crowley said, pinching his nose. “I hate when we row. Just come inside with me. Have a drink. If you get to know me you’ll see I’m not half-bad. You might even come to like me a little.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
The angel bristled. “I doubt that very much.”
“Then grow to dislike me more, I don’t care!” Crowley argued. “But at least give me a chance. Wouldn’t that be the righteous thing to do? Angel?”
Aziraphale hesitated. “I suppose so,” he said reluctantly.
Crowley flashed him a brilliant smile and dragged him inside the tavern. “Good. You can translate for me.”
“You sound perfectly articulate to me,” the angel huffed.
“Again, you’re an angel, so you automatically filter languages without even thinking about it. I’m a human, and I have not, nor ever will I learn to speak ancient Egyptian.”
“Ancient?” Aziraphale asked.
“Just tell them I’d like whatever passes for alcohol around here.”
They sat down and a serving girl came by, quickly pouring a few draughts for the pair. Crowley downed half of his before sitting back and sighing. “It’s been a long week,” he groaned. “I had to steal my kit off a clothing line from a rather angry-looking laundress. It’s not like I’m a history buff either, which I know, I know I need to study up, but in the absence of actual knowledge I had to take a few educated guesses.” He gestured to his clothing and Aziraphale tilted his head.
“You’re dressed like a fish monger,” the angel noted.
“I can deal with that!” Crowley said happily. “Time traveling requires that you blend in best you can. The consequences if you don’t are not pretty.”
Aziraphale remembered how Crowley had been wearing women’s clothing the last time they’d met. “You have a very odd way about you,” he noted.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t help that everything in the future is so different. Our slang, our customs, our clothing. I could tell you loads of things about it, but you’d never believe me.”
“Go right ahead,” Aziraphale said placidly as a frog storm began to fall outside the window. “I could use a break from the mundane.”
Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Well for instance...humans travel into space.”
“That doesn’t sound unreasonable,” the angel replied. “What do they do there?”
The redhead faltered. “L-land on the moon. Pick up some rocks… But we came up with a bunch of other brilliant stuff too! Techy things like the internet, IMAX movie screens, cars…”
Aziraphale didn’t look impressed, so Crowley pivoted with an annoyed look on his face. It would be much too difficult to explain any of those advances.
“We have adorable little shops with delicious pastries.”
“Ooh!” the angel perked up. “That sounds lovely!”
“Just wait til they invent the crepe,” he added. He mimed something happening to his head while making a whooshing sound, but it was lost on the angel.
“I suppose you know my future as well,” Aziraphale conceded.
“A bit, yeah,” Crowley replied. He looked down at his cup and smiled. “I was only five years old when I first met you.”
The angel frowned. “No. You were a grown man. Older than you are now, however one might try to explain it.”
“For you I was, then. Or will be. I haven’t lived it yet. It was different for me,” the redhead explained. “Time travel is tricky.”
“This is all very amusing,” Aziraphale muttered. “But I think I’m going to put an end to this nonsense now. I should be attending to my duties, not entertaining your wild fantasies.”
“Sure,” Crowley grinned to himself. “Of course. See you around, angel.”
Aziraphale walked out of the tavern without a glance back.
-
Aziraphale continued to see Crowley over the next millennium, but never for extended periods. Once Crowley popped up at the dedication of King Soloman’s temple, while in 425 BC he appeared to be aiding Nehemiah in the restoration of Jerusalem’s walls. Of those few occasions, Crowley merely waved at the angel and went about his business, but it was Anno Domini when everything changed.
30 AD
Aziraphale watched in horror as the son of God was driven down the road to Golgotha, dragging the instrument of his own execution. The angel stood behind a fenced barrier, forced to bear witness rather than intervene. It wasn’t the first time he’d questioned Her will or the Great Plan, but it was easily the most potent test of his faith to date.
A small hand slipped into his own and the angel looked down. A child, perhaps ten years old, was gazing up into his face.
“Why does She let it happen, Zira?” he asked.
Aziraphale’s composure cracked as he stared down into the golden-brown eyes of a boy who couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else.
“Crowley,” he managed, still trying to catch his breath.
The boy’s eyes began to tear up and he squished his face into the angel’s side. “I don’t want to be here!” he cried. “I didn’t want to come!”
Wails punctuated the air as the crucifixions began, and Aziraphale was quick to scoop Crowley into his arms, carrying him from the scene. Once they were far away, he set the boy down and wiped the tears from his freckled cheeks.
“How is this possible?” the angel whispered to himself, if not to Her directly.
Crowley’s face contorted into anger. “You said She’s supposed to take care of us! All of us! You said She does good things! Beautiful things!” He pointed back to where they’d come and raged. “You’re a liar!”
“Cr-Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, trying to regain rational thought. “I’m sorry. I...I don’t know what’s happening.”
“She’s letting him die!” Crowley screamed. “She’s killing him and you’re not doing anything about it!”
Something about the charged emotional state of the mysterious boy in front of him, coupled with the overwhelming sorrow Aziraphale already felt began to send him into a panic. “I don’t understand any of it!” he shouted. “How are you here? Why are you a child?”
Crowley shrank back, looking frightened.
“I demand you tell me what you are!” the angel roared. His wings manifested on either side of him while his holy form unleashed. His anger blotted out the sun while simultaneously blinding the boy in front of him.
Crowley let out a piercing scream and ran. He’d barely gone ten steps when Aziraphale recovered, falling to the ground in shame at what he’d done.
“Wait! Crowley!” he called, but it was too late. The redhead had disappeared amongst the hills, leaving Aziraphale to deal with his actions alone.
The angel sat there for a long time, alternating between guilt and sadness. As his mind worked through the events of the day he found himself opening to a new state of awareness. Of everything possible and impossible. Of Her divine mystery. Of plans that no one else could understand. And what if Crowley was part of it all? Not as a demon or a menace to be reckoned with, but a person who was stuck in the bewildering dark just like the angel himself. He’d never forget the face of a scared little boy who had turned to him for comfort in a time of need and been utterly rejected. He swore that he’d never let Crowley down like that again.
“Traveler,” he whispered.
-
Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference
1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10) CH.1
2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33) CH.1
2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47) CH.1
2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48) CH.1