Golgotha

There were certain places Crowley never wanted to return to. Golgotha was one of them.

“People keep saying it’s here,” Aziraphale said, pointing several times at the map as though Crowley didn’t know. “Why do they say that?”

“Because humans uncover things and then make connections with what they think is true,” said Crowley.

“True, but… well. Hm. I suppose that just means the actual site is as clear as it always is.”

Aziraphale treated the entire thing as though he had done this every year. Or as if this would be a fun trip.

It wasn’t a fun trip. Crowley knew. He did this every year that he was awake and hadn’t been caught up with Hell’s orders.

He wished he had never started, but he couldn’t stop now. He would have felt worse about it otherwise. But now that it was part of his routine, now that Hell couldn’t get in the way… Crowley wished he had managed not to tell Aziraphale. He knew the angel wanted to help, but putting more attention on it like this, making it something for the two of them, made it harder somehow.

They headed out when Crowley could force himself. Aziraphale chattered on about the current climate.* He didn’t rush him. Crowley made sure they had all the proper items already manifested so no one would question them. He could miracle things otherwise, or Aziraphale could, but he didn’t want to bother.

No one else would know this was the spot. Just as no human would ever really know Yeshua. Not even Aziraphale. Not like Crowley.

“Why did you really take him so many places?” Aziraphale asked. His hands twisted together. Crowley realized this was taking more from him than he had let on earlier.

Crowley shrugged. “Below wanted me to tempt him.”

“Yes, but?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. He was just… a good person? A person. He wasn’t perfect, like you’d except the Son to be. He was sort of better than that. He knew he didn’t have long and I… wanted it to seem like he’d had longer than he had.”

Aziraphale chuckled weakly, but if he wanted to say something, he kept it to himself.

“I just didn’t understand. And I don’t want to hear about sacrificing oneself for whatever. It’s stupid.”

“We were ready to sacrifice ourselves for the world.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets. “Feh. Not the same. If we didn’t try, there might not have been a world to live in anyway. He could have just lived. Don’t tell me it wasn’t senseless. It felt senseless.”

“…I questioned it too.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, glancing back over his shoulder. Aziraphale stood there, hands clasped together, staring blankly past him.

“Every time someone died. I questioned.”

The tense was wrong, but Crowley wouldn’t correct him.

“…I was too scared to say it aloud.”

“I don’t think it’s anything wrong to not think some people shouldn’t die,”  said Crowley. “It makes you a nice person.”

“‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing’.”

“Neither good or evil won before.”

Aziraphale smiled. “No. And between the two of us, sometimes I’m not certain which is which.”

Crowley had to agree. He wasn’t as evil as he should have been. Aziraphale wasn’t good like Heaven wanted. He couldn’t agree with other people’s definitions of the two things.

“Yeah,” was all he said.

Without missing a beat, Aziraphale took him by the arm and returned them to the city where they would eat at whichever place grabbed the angel’s attention first.

Crowley would do this again next year. He decided it wouldn’t be bad with Aziraphale tagging along.


*Thankfully the weather and not anything else, Crowley didn’t want to hear it right now. Good or bad.

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