Chapter Text
The demon had made a decision. He was going to tell Aziraphale how he felt. If Gabriel and Belzebub were able to do it, be themselves, leave all of these conflicts regarding heaven and hell behind, why couldn't he and Aziraphale do the same?
They'd been spending all their existence with each other already. And now they could be free. Free together.
This would be good. Really good. It simply had to be.
—
It wasn't good.
Aziraphale was gone.
Crowley ought to have expected it, he was after all still an Angel. And oh Satan, God, anyone, he was the purest and the best thing Crowley had ever known. The entire world had ever known. How pathetic of Crowley to think for even a second that Aziraphale would really choose him - a demon! - over heaven.
He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have kissed him. What was he thinking?
Of course this wouldn't have turned out good. How could he have been so stupid, how could he do this to Aziraphale?
Because of course he'd chosen to be up there. That's where he belonged, right? The good ones, the loved ones. Aziraphale deserved to be loved, to be pure and not tainted by a fallen one, a snake like Crowley was.
But even so there was still a part in the demon that wished, hoped the angel would choose him. Neither good or bad, heaven or hell, angels or demons.
Just them.
But no. Crowley was dirty, tainted by the ugliness of sin.
He looked up again, to see his angel one last time as he stepped into that lift. And he regretted it. Aziraphale looked happy.
Whole. This was what he always wanted. And now he didn't have Crowley to drag him down.
He gritted his teeth and suppressed this hot and aching pain spreading in his chest.
He didn't want to deal with all this emotion now. He didn't want to suffer through the consequences of his actions.
It was his fault after all. He had fallen. He was evil. He was a Demon. And now he had driven his only- (love?) - his Angel away.
He got into his car, maybe slamming the door a bit too harshly.
But oh, oh how that hurt. Like a burning deep inside of his gut, his chest, and just everywhere.
The demon never expected to feel this kind of pain, he'd have preferred to fall again and again over and over again if only it meant he wouldn't have to see the Angel, his Angel leave.
He just wanted to get far away from all of this, this damn city, everyone who knew him, everything that reminded him of what was, what could've been, if he hadn't ruined everything.
Crowley couldn't stand to be here any longer. He couldn't stand this constant reminder of his failure, of his life with the Angel.
And he especially couldn't stand to stay any longer in that godforsaken book shop.
He started his car, the familiar hum of the engine underneath him, the demon needed a distraction. He wanted to be angry, scream, curse at the world, at heaven, at that stupid Angel.
But no, much to Crowley's demise, the sweet melody of Freddie Mercury's voice started playing. This had to be some kind of sick joke, he thought as the tune filled his car.
“love of my life, you've hurt me. You've broken my heart and now you
leave me”
The lyrics rang in his car, in his head, in what the Angel once might have considered a heart. Of course it had to be that song. “Seriously?!” he yelled, trying to change the music, turn it off, or just turn down the volume. But no use, no matter how many times he tried, no matter how much he resisted, that cursed song kept playing.
“when I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you, how I still love you”
Crowley stepped on the gas pedal and drove. Faster and faster. Jaw clenched so tight that it hurt.
The houses became blurry streaks of colour until they disappeared completely and it was only the road and the music. And Crowley kept driving, yelling, cursing.
If he couldn't stop or change the music, he just had to be louder than it. Louder than the aching pain in the pit inside of him, drowning out the pain from the gaping wound the angel had left behind.
“Back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me because you don't know what it means to me, love of my life…”
But it kept playing and playing and playing. Freddie's familiar voice on loop in his head.
Crowley remembered his old friend well. And how they had composed this song together. How it was inspired by both of their secrets. By love against the rules.
He remembered drinking wine with the other man, the fluttery, gritty feeling deep inside as he spoke of the Angel.
How scared he had been to lose him to heaven. Or lose himself to hell.
And now it had actually happened.
And against his will, something Crowley had to admit were tears, started escaping his eyes. Hot wet pearls of agony rolling down his face. Staining him more, staining Crowley like the Demon stained the Angel. It was good he was gone. Good.
The angel would be better off without dirt hiding in his wings. Without darkness covering up his warm light. He could be free from all of Crowley's mess.
“Just. shut. up.” he begged the car after the song played for the twentieth time, the music kept playing, louder and louder. The Demon wanted to rip the radio out, shut his ears close, and hide, hide from all this misery and all these feelings.
He wished he could just reverse time and make everything right. Change what he said, maybe say nothing at all. Make everything good.
But he couldn't do that. Because he was a Demon. He was never meant to make something right, he was always supposed to ruin it. Ruin everything. He would always be destined to destroy. Just like he had Destroyed himself. And the Angel.
So Crowley just kept driving, he drove on and on, he didn't even think about where he was going, all that mattered was that he would be far away from everything he once knew.
But, as another bittersweet twist of faith, he found himself in the familiar streets of Tadfield.
Crowley remembered the time he spent here with Aziraphale. And the time that led up to it.
He could have laughed at the irony of this. Of course he drove to Tadfield of all places, everything was connected to this place.
He should burn it down, he thought. It would be just right for a demon to destroy a place full of innocent people.
And he wanted to, at least he wanted to want it. Because that would mean he had a place, somewhere to belong to, it would mean he was truly the worst, because for Crowley this would mean - what would this mean?
Of course he was evil. Of course he destroyed everything. That's why the Angel had left. That's why he was alone. Satan, he destroyed so much he even destroyed his home in hell.
Crowley's thoughts got all messy again, all mixed up and upside down, inside out and it made him vulnerable. He hated that.
He hated that this way of thinking had only two reasons and that he didn't think this way because he was drunk.
And he hated that he wasn't angry, Crowley was supposed to be angry, furious because of the betrayal.
Or happy because now he wouldn't have to deal with an angel anymore?
Angry because-
No. No this wasn't good at all, he thought.
He didn't want to think about this anymore. He didn't want to feel his feelings or the way he missed his Angel.
Feelings just made everything complicated.
So, Crowley decided to get drunk.
He just hoped there was at least one decent pub in this boring place. With all the misery this town had brought upon him, it would be the only way to repay him at least a little bit.
—
And, to Crowley's relief, there was a pub, it had taken him barely 5 minutes to find it. A small, old stone building, wedged in between a few newer small stores.
The hum of distant conversations came from within, laughing and the smell of alcohol filled the air.
Crowley slumped into the first free seat he could find, and ordered 3 drinks.
One after the other, he drank. And drank and drank. Until he felt his sight go slightly blurry, and his thoughts slurry.
And finally, he felt something other than emptiness, something other than the pain and the guilt.
He felt the prickling in his mouth, the burning in his throat. And finally, he was able to rip his mind away from those awful memories.
Taste something else than the Angels lips.
Crowley drank and drank and drank. At some point he just ordered the bottle, and another one.
His skin felt like stars, and like nothing and everything. And nothing mattered anymore, not this stupid town, not the pain, not heaven or hell.
But oh... he wished Aziraphale wouldn't matter anymore.
Crowley wished he didn't care about that stupid Angel, with his stupid coat, that stupid bookshop, and his stupid feelings, and all those... obligations.
Crowley ordered another bottle.
And he ignored the worried look he got from the bartender. Crowley would be fine. He always was. Much to his distaste.
Crowley thought he should suffer. That's what he deserved after all, right?
But the demon did wonder if he should tempt the man.
If he should tempt himself too.
Do the one thing he never would.
He thought this would be a good idea. And when the Angel returned he could hurt him with this, show him that he didn't need him, because nothing lasts forever. Not even if you wish it did.
But this was stupid.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.
The empty feeling returned. He hadn't realized how much he needed Aziraphale. How much he was longing for the Angels warmth. He felt, without him, even hellfire would be freezing cold.
Then Crowley left the pub.
This was all too much, all too wrong.
He couldn't do this without his Angel, he didn't want to do this without his Angel.
Without Aziraphale, where did Crowley belong? What place could he ever call a home?
His stars had been ripped away millennia ago. Now his sun left.
What else was there for him to stay for.
What reason was his existence even. All he brought upon this world was bad.
All he truly was, was a stain of dirt in this existence.
The demon thought about just laying down on the ground, letting nature do her job, he would just stop resisting. Live in eternal suffering. That was all he deserved, wasn't it? All he was good for?
But maybe there was another option.