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Aziraphale had already seen humans overcome the unthinkable in just two and a half millennia on Earth. He recalled how Job and his family prospered after their trials, the way Hagar refused to let banishment mean shame for her son, and how Lot’s children persevered without their mother. As an angel, he knew the Almighty valued those who still held onto their faith in Her through the darkest times. Despite the opinions of his superiors, he did not think humans who doubted or did not believe in Her were less worthy of Her love. Sitis had been ready to curse God, but only because she believed her children were dead.
In Aziraphale’s opinion, it made no sense to hold humans to the same standards as angels. They had the luxury to doubt and show weakness. They may be protected by blessings from the Lord, but they would never know the burden of being an Angel of the Lord.
He could practically feel Gabriel over his shoulder any time he had the urge to cry out to Jacob and Rachel that their son was alive and had been deceived by his brothers. And while angels never tired, he felt the weight of the last ten years making sure Israel and his family did not forget Benjamin in their grief as Canaan faded away.
The first time he really felt he was in a new place was in Potiphar’s library, full of so many tablets and scrolls describing the minutiae of daily life. He knew he was supposed to be seeing how Joseph was faring, but if the Archangels made him wait over a decade, a few hours of exploring these precious records of human life would hurt no one.
He may have been involved in the Human and Animal Life Department before Creation, but reading what they wrote made Aziraphale feel like he could understand them in a whole new way. Unfortunately, the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat disturbed his reverie.
“His Excellency is hosting a banquet for all foreign guests. Your presence is expected.” The angel felt a pang of displeasure at parting from the reading material, but he wasn’t going to get himself discorporated for flaunting hospitality.
Not long after taking his seat in the banquet hall, he felt the air move on his left, indicating that someone was occupying the seat next to his. Before Aziraphale could prepare to make additional small talk with a stranger, he was pleasantly surprised by their voice.
“You know, for some humans, ten years would be more than just a few .”
Good thing we’re not human, then. Thought Aziraphale, who didn’t bother to restrain a small smile, “I hope they haven’t been full of complete hardship.”
Now, unlike his colleagues Upstairs, Aziraphale was no longer flummoxed by general matters of the human corporation.
Human bodies were human bodies.
Yet he found himself transfixed by Crawly, who clearly took to dressing like the locals, and the angel could not help but think of how he never considered what the demon might look like beneath the black robes he usually wore. Those were traded for a loose kalasiris that went just below his knees and left his shoulders uncovered. More exposure to the sunlight bestowed small freckles on his arms and legs, scattered like the corner of space he saw Crawly conjure when he was still an angel. The clothes seemed to cling to his shape like an idol molded from clay or carved out of stone.
The demon shrugged. “It got less boring after I finally made it into Zuleika’s inner circle.”
Potiphar’s wife.
That would explain Crawly’s choice of attire.1
“Here to encourage the people to disavow their blasphemous gods?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, there was a policy shift-” Aziraphale stopped when he noticed Crawly’s teasing grin.
“If you must know, Gabriel said I was to let Joseph have at least a decade to get in Potiphar’s good graces before coming here to absolutely ensure that he gets an audience with the Pharaoh. We’re getting things set for a major phase in the Great Plan, and if he’s to be believed, God really wants to make sure everything goes swimmingly."
Now, if you had asked Aziraphale what he anticipated Crawly’s response to be, he would have, in the following order of likelihood, expected:
- Standard derision of the Great Plan.
- A snarky comment about the Supreme Archangel.2
- Something along the lines of, “As swimmingly as it did for everyone not on the Ark?”
He was surprised, and quickly troubled by the demon failing to stifle a laugh and wipe tears from his eyes. Aziraphale found that he could not quite figure out how to respond to this reaction. Luckily, it didn’t take long for Crawly to regain composure.
“Oh Angel, you should’ve come here sooner.”
“Believe me, Angel, if I knew she was going to try to seduce Joseph specifically, I would’ve at least tried to tempt her in another direction. I’m only surprised she didn’t put together why exactly the chap was spending so much time in her husband’s private quarters. I wasn’t even the first one to point out that it wasn’t fair how Potiphar wasn’t giving her the attention she deserved. The rest of her entourage was already on that, I was just there to beat a dead horse.”
“But Joseph said he didn’t have impure intentions or act impurely towards her! How did he end up in prison?”
Crawly shrugged. “Even a high-ranking servant is still just a servant next to the wife of the captain of the guard. I’ll give him this much: he’s even managed to rise in the ranks in prison quickly. He’s basically the warden now.”
Aziraphale slouched against the wall of the chambers Crawly managed to secure from Zuleika for the night.3 “Well, the Pharaoh isn’t going to want an audience with a prison warden now, is he?”
Crawly saw Aziraphale gulp down some wine, looking up rather despairingly. “Don’t do that.”
The angel straightened his posture. “Do what?”
Crawly sat across from him on the settee, giving him a gentle glare. “Your face. Right now, you’re thinking of how you’ll get in trouble, even though you had no way of knowing what was going on while you were Canaan, and you were the one following their orders. Besides, I would’ve thought God would know about this hiccup before having you come here.”
Aziraphale wanted to say so many things in response, but all he could say was, “I guess that’s just another way Her plan is-“
“Don’t tell me, ineffable?” Crawly said with a roll of his eyes.4
Aziraphale slouched back against the wall again. “I suppose the important thing is that I find a way to make that audience happen. Would the Egyptians be amenable to releasing him early on good behavior?”
Crawly scoffed, “I know you just got here, but this isn’t the kind of place that paroles for good behavior.”
The angel narrowed his gaze. “I’m just trying to think of something.” Aziraphale set his goblet aside and moved closer to Crawly, who was now looking down at him from where he was seated. By human standards, the demon was attractive, especially in his current garb.5 He could probably ask him to persuade the Pharaoh, but the idea of suggesting that triggered an unpleasant twist in his core.6
“What about proving his innocence then?” Aziraphale suggested instead.
Crawly shrugged. “I suppose you could try, but it’s still the word of a slave against a member of the nobility.”
“You said that Joseph and Potiphar were sharing quarters. Surely that alone should prove that there could not have been any interest in her on his part to begin with?”
The demon shook his head, facing Aziraphale. “I had the same thought, but even if Potiphar knows his head of household didn’t make any advances, I think he cares more about not making it look like he’s letting a slave have that much control in his life. It would give some rivals ideas about finding ways to paint him as submissive, undermine his authority. The usual human stuff.”
Oh, why must humans be so over-complicated in such matters? Aziraphale lamented to himself. Then, a thought came to him. “Crawly, do you have any idea how he was able to become the warden in such a short time?”
“Well, Asenath is one of the few ladies here who spares a moment to talk to the servants, and that includes the warden. Rumor has it that the warden was complaining about some strange dream or another and Joseph told him what it meant, and he was right.”
Crawly was suddenly taken aback by the sudden brightness taking over Aziraphale’s demeanor.
“Of course! The dreams! That blessing! It all makes sense now!”
The demon sat up as Aziraphale sat next to him on the settee. “All I need to do is find a way for Joseph’s talent for dream interpretation to become valuable! He will surely get an audience that way!”
Crawly turned to fully face the angel. “That could work. Question is, how are you going to make that happen?”
He was a little surprised by his relief at the fact that that didn’t seem to discourage the angel, who stood up and started pacing the room, deep in thought.7 Crawly could’ve sworn he saw Aziraphale glow8, excitement taking over him. “I’ll bless Pharaoh with some dreams, something about protecting Egypt from danger. Then the warden can tell him about the young man who interpreted his own dreams correctly!”
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
“Enter.” Crawly said, seeing a guard at the other side of the open door.
“My lady, another foreign dignitary has arrived. He says he’s from your homeland and would like to personally send you good tidings. Her Excellency has asked me to escort you.” The guard remained still as a statue after saying his piece.
Both angel and demon looked at one another. Hell better make this quick. Crawly kept up the airs of nobility in his response. “My guest is welcome to wait for me in my quarters. I won’t be long.” The guard silently acknowledged Crawly, as he made his exit, swearing that he could feel the angel wordlessly telling him,
“Be careful.”
“It’s a commendation from Lord Beelzebub. According to Hell, I have successfully sown discord in Potiphar’s household, as if I even had to try.”
The demon didn’t have to look to know that Aziraphale moved closer to him. “Don’t they just… poof those up here?”
“That they do. But it seems Lord Beelzebub wanted this one delivered personally by Famine. He said something about keeping up the good work while he canvasses the area.”
The angel’s brows lifted, “What is Famine canvassing the area for?”
“Oh! I thought I mentioned, Famine is preparing for a major, well, famine in this part of the world. He’s spending the next seven years or so taking notes so everything can go off without a hitch. If you ask me, it looks like your lot will be busy with a lot of thwarting pretty soon.” He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Aziraphale only looked briefly horrified before beaming once again.
“This is perfect! I don’t even have to make up a reason for Egypt to be in danger! It already is… oh good Lord, the people are going to starve!”
Crawly knew exactly what the angel needed to hear to keep from spiraling. “And that’s why you’re going to get him an audience with Pharaoh. The people will be able to prepare.”
Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there’s no reason for the Pharaoh to speak with the prison warden or listen to him. He’ll probably only listen to someone he trusts in his court, and it’s not as if he’s going to throw someone he trusts in prison any time soon.”
Oh Angel, you have no idea just how bloody clever you are. Crawly thought. “Unless he suddenly has a reason to jail someone he trusts… no one in the family, of course, that would be too messy, but someone directly in his service…”
“But we don’t know who in his court has done anything to warrant imprisonment!”
Crawly kept himself from sighing. “You said the Pharaoh will be here as a guest in two days, right?”
“Yes…”
“This is the Pharaoh we are talking about. He will want to bring certain members of his own staff. One of those will probably be his butler. Not exactly a friend, but spends enough time with him to gain some kind of trust.”
“Crawly. Are you suggesting that we frame the butler for a heinous crime?”
“Nothing extreme, Angel! Just something minor, that the Pharaoh will not execute him over.”
Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank God. What did you have in mind?”
The demon opened his mouth to respond, but paused. The angel’s shoulder sank.
“You don’t have any idea, do you?”
“It’s the bloody Pharaoh, angel! If he’s having a particularly bad day, he might just jump right to hanging the poor fellow!”
“Then it’s a good thing I have blessings to spare.”
“You know, Crawly, I wonder if we could have just let things be if the baker was already going to try to poison the Pharaoh’s food anyway.”
“It’s not as if we could have known. I know he’s a tyrant, but I have to think that subpar wine won’t be treated with the same severity as an assassination attempt.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
The two supernatural beings were walking through the courtyard months after the chaos that had been Pharaoh’s reception to Potiphar’s house.9
They said nothing but knew the matter wasn’t entirely settled. Finally, Aziraphale dared to break the silence. “I suppose you’ll be expecting another commendation from Hell for bringing discord to Pharaoh’s court?”
Crawly nodded. “Received it a few hours ago, actually. They seem to think I tempted the baker to attempt murder. What do you think you’ll do next, Aziraphale?”
The angel turned his head away from his compatriot as if ashamed. “I need to think of a way to get close enough to the Pharaoh to bestow those dreams. Asenath already agreed to take me with her to bring food to the prison the next time she can get away from her parents. She’s hoping to do so in the next month or so.”
Crawly stopped walking and turned so he could look into Aziraphale’s eyes. “You know, you can tell me when you’ve made your visit. I could see if I could pull a few strings with our good friend, the captain of the guard, to see if Pharaoh is looking for someone to manage his library.” That pesky feeling of warmth overtook him once more when Aziraphale smiled at him.
“That guard had better hope Potiphar doesn’t hear about him falling asleep,” whispered Asenath with concern. Aziraphale looked back at the suddenly comatose guard at the prison entrance.
“I’m sure he will be all right,” he remarked before snapping his fingers discreetly out of the young woman’s view.10 A voice in his head that resembled Michael’s was tutting at him over allowing himself to be influenced by Crawly’s demonic wiles. In turn, another voice was shouting that he was not hurting the guard, he was going to be fine, and that he was doing this in service of one of the Almighty’s favorites.
A very small step to help move the Great Plan along.
Either way, I’m getting him an audience with the Pharaoh.
He continued to follow the young woman’s lead as they reached the cells. Aziraphale immediately recognized the warden despite it having been more than a decade since he asked the angel his opinion of his coat that was nothing more than faded rags in Canaan. He didn’t seem to give any indication that he recognized Aziraphale.[10] Without a word, Asenath handed the basket of food to Aziraphale as she handed Joseph a message on a scrap of papyrus. He seemed to hand her his own note in return when Aziraphale snapped his fingers, freezing the scene before him.
“If you would be so kind as to tell me in which cell Pharaoh’s cupbearer may be, that would be jolly good of you.”
“Third cell to the left.”
“Thank you.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and proceeded to start handing rations of food to each prisoner until he reached the third cell on the left and saw two prisoners. He recognized one as the cupbearer and the other as the baker who was accused of trying to poison the Pharaoh.
He again snapped his fingers, then focused his attention on the two imprisoned men.
“You will each start having dreams about your future… whatever that is. What you see will relate to your former occupations. But after you speak with Joseph you will dream about whatever it is you like best.”11
When he snapped his fingers again, he thought he heard a grumble from one of the sleeping prisoners, before he continued distributing food.
Aziraphale did not expect to see Crawly standing by the entrance of the palace when he and Asenath returned from their visit to the dungeons.
Aziraphale was not sure what to make of Crawly and Asenath’s conversation as she gave him the papyrus that Joseph handed her. The two of them said nothing and he assumed the two people were exchanging letters to one another. True, Crawly had been in Egypt longer, but how did he get so close to Joseph as to exchange letters?
Not that it mattered.
Except it sort of did matter.
He knew this mystery would prove distracting if he didn’t get the answer, so he went ahead and asked.
“Oh this?” said Crawly holding up the folded papyrus. “The usual correspondences between Joseph and Potiphar.”
“Didn’t he have him imprisoned in the first place?”
Crawly shrugged. “What can I say, humans are funny sometimes.” Aziraphale then realized the message was placed in his hands.12 Before he could protest, the demon smirked. “I spoke to Potiphar. You should expect him to put in a good word for you after you discreetly deliver this.”
Before he could use his better judgment as an angel, Aziraphale simply said, “Thank you.”13
The angel thanked him.
The angel thanked him, and something about those words felt like they could safeguard him from the cold halls of Hell.14
He’s an angel, he’s practically hardwired to be polite.
Then again, if Aziraphale wasn’t convinced that a demon like him was entirely wicked…
You don’t know what he thinks.
Since Uz, Crawly knew there was something about being an angel that left Aziraphale short of satisfied. He suspected it the moment he gave away that flaming sword after all.
Then again, so many had been unsatisfied with Heaven. He sometimes wanted to shake the angel until he realized Heaven was full of it.
But he remembered the despair that washed over the angel when he thought himself demonic for saving Job’s children, and Crawly knew he could never bring Aziraphale to the other side. Something inside him ached and twisted at the idea of the angel being in that dark, damp place that was both cold and reeked of sulfur.
Besides, he would be too bored being up on Earth by himself.
Yes. That was it.
And if the angel just so happened to thank him, at least it was more than he ever got Downstairs.
Everyone could tell the Pharoah was troubled. They could see it clearly in his face for almost a year now.
What Aziraphale couldn’t understand, was why he hadn’t asked for Joseph yet. For the first few months, he thought the Pharoah was just waiting to see if he could still trust the cupbearer before confiding in him.
That theory was soon dispelled when his complaints of night terrors were all anyone in the household could talk about.
He was thankful to be occupied with messenger duties, otherwise Aziraphale would drive himself mad over the wrenches that kept falling into his plan.15 Lately, he would hear a rustling or the disembodied sound of steps and instinctively brace himself to be faced with Gabriel or Michael checking up on him.
Get ahold of yourself Aziraphale, they haven’t checked in for two years. There’s no reason for them to show up now. Yet those words did nothing to slow down the spinning in his head. That one moment he could be making his way to the library, and have an Archangel manifest before him the next.
The only surprise he would welcome would be the steward walking into his path during his search for him. If the Pharoah were this troubled by his dreams, surely the steward had said something about Joseph. That’s why he was waiting by the entrance of the palace that led to the Pharaoh’s quarters. He was bound to appear sometime during the day.
He was reading a fascinating poem on a piece of papyrus from the library when he recognized the steward immediately, carrying a jug of wine with him in the direction of the Pharoah’s quarters. He rolled up the parchment and put it in his robe as he approached the former prisoner.
“Good afternoon, would you like any help making this delivery to Pharoah?” The young man seemed taken aback for a moment before silently motioning the angel to follow him.
“Have you been adjusting well since being released?”
“It’s been more than a year. I’d say I’m doing all right.”
Right. Of course it has.
“I imagine it wasn’t easy to regain the Pharoah’s confidence?”
The cupbearer seemed to eye him warily, “It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting back there every day.”
“That’s wonderful! And I’m sure you’ve been able to share with him stories of your incarceration… Not that your time in prison was wonderful by any means, I’m sure it was quite the opposite, but—”
He was taken aback when he was suddenly backed against the wall, “I am loyal to my Pharaoh! If you think I would ever betray him—”
“Dear Lord, I’m not a spy! I just want to know if you’ve mentioned Joseph to the Pharoah.”
“Who?”
Aziraphale was dumbfounded.
“Joseph? The lad you met in prison?”
“A lot of lads are in prison.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, but only a somewhat indignant noise came from it. Chastising the man for not remembering a fellow prisoner would be the furthest thing from angelic behavior. It’s not as if he could suddenly force him to remember Joseph in the recesses of his mind like Crawly who could just snap his fingers, freeze time, and ask a few questions or say a few words.
While Aziraphale was not entirely opposed to trying that method, he didn’t want to make a mess of his first try.
The usual means of divinely compelling humans to provide information would have to do for the moment.
I do hope no one else notices…
The angel cleared his throat and pressed his index finger on the man’s forehead, from which light was already glowing.
“THINK BACK YOUNG MAN. YOU WERE TROUBLED BY DREAMS IN PRISON, AND ONE MAN HELPED YOU MAKE SENSE OF THEM… WHAT DID YOU DREAM? WHAT DID HE SAY IT MEANT?”
The cupbearer’s eyes were wide as if he were staring into the sun without getting hurt as he said,
“The three vines and grapes were three days… I’d be pardoned by my Pharaoh… that’s what it meant when I handed him the goblet…”
“AND DOES YOUR PHARAOH NOT DESERVE THE SAME CLARITY YOU RECEIVED IN PRISON?”
“I’ll do anything to help my troubled Pharaoh,”
“THEN TELL HIM OF JOSEPH WHEN HE NEXT COMPLAINS OF HIS DREAMS.”16
The angel withdrew his index finger from the man’s forehead and whatever light that overwhelmed the scene earlier had faded, giving way to the blue sky and sandstone once more. Aziraphale found himself quickly walking away, ignoring the subsequent questions about who he was and what he was doing.
“At least you were the one putting on the light show, thought I’d have to put up with two hundred years of paperwork.”
Aziraphale nearly gasped, turning to see Crawly leaning against one of the pillars he walked past. If he had a human heart, he might have experienced palpitations, but he steeled himself quickly.
“Yes… That would be rather unfortunate.”
The demon walked over to him, “I believe the last time you went all BE NOT AFRAID was--,”
“Uz. Yes, I recall.”
Crawly shrugged, “I just do the good ol’ snap o’ the fingers, freeze time, say a few things, get what I need, and off I go,”
“And it works every time?”
“Like a charm.”
Aziraphale resisted the voice in his head17 telling him to go elsewhere and do anything but engage in further conversation with Crawly, as he, without a hint of hesitation, said, “Perhaps you could show me how it’s done? I must concede your demonic methods in this case aren’t as likely to make a scene.”
Crawly smirked, “I’ll let you know once I get word on my next assignment from Below.”
“When will you know?”
To that question, he received no answer and both angel and demon simply parted in silence.
Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest from the departure. But what other reason did they have to keep talking?
“It’s funny. Everything went completely sideways, but I still got the commendation,"
“You did get the job done. What’s so shocking about that?”
The angel turned to the demon, exasperated, “Yes, but it wasn’t all done exactly the way they wanted it to,”
Crawly shook his head, “I keep telling you, Heaven and Hell are more concerned that we get things done more than how we do them.
His—dare he say it—friend seemed to be in search of a response. Crawly knew the angel found his words when he swallowed, “It was just lucky that no one Upstairs happened to check in on me.”
Both were quickly disturbed from their reverie by what seemed to be the sudden appearance of a crowd forming outside Pharaoh’s palace in the distance. Wordlessly, the pair began walking over.
Crawly kept his eyes on the horizon, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze, “Got word from Downstairs. They want me to make perform a couple of temptations to ensure lack of preparedness for Famine’s upcoming project.”
Although he couldn’t see his face, he knew Aziraphale was trying and failing to suppress a satisfied smile, “Too bad for them, I already thwarted you.”
“Egypt won’t be the only place affected apparently. I’ve been told to go back to Canaan for a bit.”
This made Aziraphale turn around, shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Crawly tried to ignore the pull he felt as the angel walked back to him. He wanted to avoid Aziraphale’s gaze, but he couldn’t seem to look away from him.
Finally, the angel spoke, “Is this goodbye then?”
“Probably. I imagine I’ll probably be back here at some point, if you don’t get sent back to Canaan first.”
The two of them started walking towards the crowd again as Aziraphale, failing to force a smile, replied, “I suppose we shall see.”