Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale couldn't believe it, after all this time, after all his mistakes, after everything he'd done, he had expected to be sent to hell, to be eliminated even!
After all his sins -  the Metatron still deemed him worthy. God still saw good in Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was not beyond repair.

He would be worthy of God's love again.

He had made mistakes, and he had committed sins, but he could redeem himself, he could do good, in heaven! He was good! He could finally fix it all!

It was like a weight lifted off the Angel's shoulders, a weight he didn't realize he'd been carrying around for so long.
This was good. It was really good. More than good even. Everything could be perfect again. Heavenly. Pure.

And Crowley, Aziraphale had asked this one thing, he could come too. The Angel couldn't wait to deliver this great message.
They could be in heaven together, good together. Crowley could be worthy again too.

This would be good, Aziraphale thought, really good.
It simply had to be.

—

Aziraphale wasn't sure what happened.
Why didn't Crowley realize what opportunity this was? Why didn't he just listen? Why couldn't he understand-
And why did he kiss him.

Aziraphale was trembling. He thought he was at least. It was like his skin was buzzing. Maybe it was frustration? What did he feel?
What did he think? What was Crowley thinking?
How could he just do that?

They weren't supposed to do that. Angels weren't supposed to do that. And Aziraphale couldn't do that. Not at all, but especially not with Crowley. Not with a demon.
He was supposed to be better. Be good. Be pure. Finally redeem himself. Repent.

And he left. It was hard, Aziraphale couldn't deny that. It pained him, leaving his bookshop behind, leaving all the things he had grown to love. Leaving Crowley.
But he had no other choice.
This was the only right decision to make. The only way to be good.

And Aziraphale wanted to be good. He needed to be good. And now he had the power to prove it. To show heaven he was still worthy. He had been chosen and he would be good.
What else was there to do?
After all, he was an Angel.

—

It was good being back. Back where he belonged, and the other Angels seemed nice. Metatron was nice, and so kind. It was all finally going to be better. With Aziraphale in charge, the world would be thriving, it would be happy, and good, and people wouldn't have to suffer anymore.
Everyone should live without fear, and with love, and -

There was supposed to be another armageddon.

Aziraphale stopped.

"What?" He asked.

"Yes, Aziraphale. Since the last one was…"
Metatron looked at Aziraphale, with sometime that seemed like disgust flickering over his face before he composed himself again. "Interrupted." He finished his sentence.

"I- I mean, I'm just a little confused" he started fiddling with his shirt, "why do we need an apocalypse. People would- they'd get hurt and-"

He was cut off by the Metatron "This is what God wants, and God needs the supreme Archangel to follow suit" he paused, looking at Aziraphale again, "you don't want to disappoint God again now, do you?"

"No! No of course not!" Aziraphale replied quickly. This was supposed to happen. God had a plan. And a reason. Who was Aziraphale to question the great plan? He should just be grateful. He was worthy to be entrusted with this important mission.

—

After a few days Aziraphale got used to it all again. The cleanliness of heaven. How sterile everything was. How empty. And silent.
He got used to not eating again, he didn't need to drink, or sleep, or walk really.

He was pure again, he thought. He hoped. How much sin can you wash away, can you scrub the dirt from off your soul?
But Aziraphale felt good. This was good. He was doing God's bidding. Planning the apocalypse.
It would be a great spectacle. Heaven would show how powerful they were, they would show kindness to those who followed the right path, to those who did good. And everything would be just fine.

He tried to ignore the feelings that gnawed at him in this great silence. He tried not to miss the warmth of his bookshop, how at home he had felt there.
He tried to ignore this imaginary hunger clawing at his insides. Or how he longed to smell tea, or his books. He ignored how much he missed the Demon.

He couldn't really miss him, could he?

But it was getting harder to ignore. And Aziraphale couldn't do this. He couldn't sin again, he couldn't risk God's great plan. So he decided the only right thing to do was to confess.
Confess all his sins and thoughts to Metatron. Repent.

He had to be better.

And so he did, it didn't take him long to find the Metatron,
"Oh, hello- could I- how do I ask…" how was he supposed to start this? Should he confess to everything right now, just like that? It was probably for the best. He fidgeted with his hands, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"What do you wish, Angel?" The Metatron had a twist to his voice Aziraphale couldn't quite identify what it was though. But there was no way back now.

"I need to confess." He said, as firmly as he could. And there was another flicker on Metatron's face, a little twitch in his lips before he smiled.

"Of course. " He sounded content, warm even. Aziraphale felt good about this. This was right. It was what he needed to do.
And so he began.

He told Metatron everything. From the sword, to the friendship that had formed between him and the Demon.
The food, the drinks, dinner at the Ritz.
All his sins. It just spilled out of him, And once Aziraphale started, he couldn't stop.
He was ashamed to admit some of the things he did, but he confessed it all.
It felt so good to get this off his chest.
Like, slowly, he would scrub away the dirt his sins had left on him.
But he couldn't talk about the kiss. It wasn't worth mentioning, was it? It wouldn't make a difference. Absentmindedly he traced his bottom lip with his fingers, just like he did then, until he realized what he was doing and stopped promptly.

It took longer than the Angel would like to admit, but as he was done, the space around him and Metatron was silent again. For a moment none of them said a word.
Aziraphale braces himself for what might come next.
Disgust? Fear? Would he be sent away after all?

"Oh, you poor Angel" Metatron said finally. Aziraphale was… confused. Why wasn't he more distraught by what he had done?
But Metatron continued.

"It must've been so hard. Being tempted by a Demon like that…"

"I don't quite understand," he started slowly, "I did something wrong"

"Of course you did, Aziraphale" he said slowly, and the Angel felt everything in him freeze before he continued, "but he tempted you. Of course you should have resisted, but Aziraphale, he is a Demon after all. Filth. He is vile and poisonous"

Aziraphale didn't like the way Metatron spoke of Crowley. They had been friends. Aziraphale liked Crowley. The Demon didn't truly mean any harm to him, right? Had he been wrong all this time? Had he been fooled by him?

"Don't you agree?" Metatron interrupted his thoughts.
Aziraphale looked at him, took a shaky breath, before giving a jerky nod.

Metatron was right. He would never lie to Aziraphale about this. Crowley was just a Demon.
Being evil was in his nature.

He didn't want to think about this anymore. He didn't want to remember the Demon's touch, or his smell, his voice.
His lips.

But after all that had happened, he couldn't get Crowley out of his head.
Maybe it was the way he'd left? Or the shame he felt for what happened?

Maybe he should just let Crowley know he was better off now. Maybe he could still redeem him after all? Or bring him to his well deserved punishment?
Aziraphale wasn't sure. But he couldn't just ignore it anymore.

So he went to search for him, and-

What was Crowley doing in Tadfield?

Chapter Text

The people of Tadfield had now all become rather weary of the demon, of course they didn't know he was a demon, but he was still a strange man, sitting on a park bench at all times of the day. So people kept their children away, dogs were torn away from him, even a cop came by to make sure he wasn't going to murder someone. But Crowley just sat there. Staring into nothingness, thinking, contemplating, or maybe waiting.

After leaving the bar, he didn't know where else to go, so he just walked to the nearest bench and sat down. He hasn't moved since then.
How long has it been now? Two days, maybe three?
It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore.

Crowley was pathetic.
He had come to that conclusion even before he sat down on that bench. Maybe he always knew, and just didn't want it to be true.

What was he even doing here?
Why would he let this bring him down so much?
He should be glad the Angel has gone.
Ecstatic even. Finally Crowley had gotten rid of that … 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳.

But he wasn't. Quite the opposite actually. Crowley had thought about it for a long time. He had thought about almost nothing else over the past few days, if he had to be honest. And much to his demise he had come to only one conclusion.

He loved Aziraphale.

Which may be even more pathetic.

Crowley never thought he would admit this.
It was wrong, in all the ways Crowley knew it would be wrong. But he did.
And how wrong could something as pure and selfless as love truly be?

Crowley exhaled shakily. What did it even matter anymore? Aziraphale didn't like him anymore, he was probably only waiting for an opportunity to leave. Crowley had been a bother. Dirt. Dead weight.

Sluggishly, he got up. Whining and self loathing like this wouldn't bring him any further. It made him feel worse, and ashamed.
The Angel shouldn't see him like this once he got back…
He could've laughed at that little speck of hope within him, tear it out, chew it up, spit it onto the ground.
But this little bit of hope helped him to keep going, Crowley knew he couldn't stay like this, he needed… assistance?
And he had an idea of what would help now.
Or, who could.
It was worth a shot at least.

He got into his car, a familiar smell surrounded him, he felt the comfort of the leather underneath him, he really did love this car.
"Sorry I left you standing here for so long" he muttered, about to turn on the engine when something caught his eye.
From the corner of his eye he recognized something. A small, oval, yellow bonbon.
He snapped his head around, staring at it in disbelief:
'A travel delight'
In an instance, Crowley's bad mood had  returned. This was just wonderful. Truly.
He huffed and started the car, deciding to pointedly ignore this little inconvenience. Luckily, he wasn't met by Freddie Mercury's "Love Of My Life", then, but this time "Bohemian Rhapsody". It was a good song, and he found himself humming along to it as he drove, drumming his fingers on the steering will to match the rhythm.

The song was accompanying him as the green countryside turned into gray roads, with colourful flashes of cars, and finally into the familiar, full streets of Soho, London.

It didn't take him as long as expected to arrive in the little street he once might have called a home. There was The record shop, the coffee shop, all the busy people… and the bookshop.
As he got out of his car he saw that, to his surprise, quite a lot of people seemed to be inside it, looking at books, and talking to someone behind the counter.
Could it be?
His heart could've stopped at that exact moment, he was about to run into that store and yell at him, apologize, hug him, kiss him even. But at that moment, just when Crowley had decided to talk to the Angel (he hadn't decided about what or how just yet), a customer stepped aside to reveal, not Aziraphale, but Muriel.

Crowleys excitement subsided, and for a second it felt like he was drained of any and all emotion he might have had.
But this emptiness was surely replaced by anger again. Of course he hadn't returned, you stupid Demon, he's in heaven now. Happy and a part of 'the good ones'.
The Demon felt shame creep up from inside his gut, everything was just wrong. Hating him, loving him, needing him. It was all too confusing.

Stop, stop. No. He was just repeating himself now. This was stupid.
'Stupid Demon', he scolded himself.

With a sigh he turned around to make his way into the coffee shop, "Give me coffee or give me death", he really liked that name, and it really did describe his life right now. Give him a coffee, give him death. It didn't really matter now, did it. What was the difference.

The door bell chimed as he entered the shop, the smell of coffee and the chattering of a few humans filled his senses. This felt good, familiar, like home. But at the same time it pained him, flooding his head with memories, Aziraphale had liked this shop too, and Crowley had liked being there with him. Luckily Nina greeted him before he could think too much about all of that.

"Hi there, haven't seen ya in a while" she said, at least she sounded happy, Crowley... Did not. And he did not have enough energy to put on the mask just then. So he just gave her a jerky nod, and slumped down over the next best empty table.
"Can I get you something?" She asked, concern now audible in her voice.
"Coffee." He replied, mumbling slightly, "With a shot of espresso."
She nodded and went to prepare the coffee for the Demon.

How was he supposed to start this conversation? She didn't know about who, or rather what, him and Aziraphale really were, so he couldn't just say Aziraphale left his heaven. To her it might sound like he died!

"So... You're having a problem with your 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭?" She asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with two of coffee, one for Crowley , and one for herself. The Demon looked up at her, nodded and took the cup from her "thanks."
He decided to ignore the nickname for now. She nodded back, sighed, and sat down next to him.

"He-" Crowley groaned, "he went back… home" he said, it wasn't a complete lie at least. Although he would hardly call the empty space of heaven a home.

"That's shit" she said in response. It was silent after that, maybe a bit awkward, both drinking from their cup of coffee.
"Listen. I'm not the best at this - relationship advice and all" Nina began again, "maybe we should ask Maggie? She knows a lot about this. There's probably some romance movie about this, she'd know" a smile played on her lips as she talked about 𝘩𝘦𝘳 Angel, it made Crowley happy, in some ways. But no matter 𝘩𝘰𝘸 happy he was for them, he couldn't get rid of the jealousy in his gut.
Why couldn't he and Aziraphale be like this, together on earth, why couldn't Aziraphale have that smile when he talked about Crowley?
"Maybe" was all he said in response and shrugged, emptying his cup.

"Alright then, let's go over there now. You'll drive away my customers if you keep sulking here like this" and with that she got up, expecting him to join as she left the shop.
And he did, because what else was there to do now.

—

The bookshop. Of course, of all the places where Maggie could've been, she was in the bookshop, 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱, chatting with Muriel.
Wonderful, really, nearly perfect.
But Crowley wanted help, so now he was getting it, whether he liked it or not.

"Oh hey, you two!" Maggie waved as she noticed them.
"Sorry for interrupting, but Mr Crowley here needs some… advice from you" Nina said, leaning on a nearby bookshelf.
"Alright, of course, how can I help?"

Crowley was admittedly, a bit embarrassed. Just a few days ago he and Aziraphale had helped 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 with 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 relationship, and now here he was, whining over his 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥-𝘰𝘧-𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵-𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥-𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩-𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥-𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦-𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯-𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 thing. He didn't even know what to call it. But he was here now, might as well take what he could get.

—

It was a hard thing to explain, especially while leaving out all the 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧, but he managed it eventually. And they knew what they needed to know,  Aziraphale had left after Crowley had kissed him, and now the Demon missed him and didn't know what to do.

Maggie seemed concerned, but determined. She'd find a way to fix this, she insisted, maybe he could write a letter, explain everything, a romantic surprise visit, he could call or she could call for him…
The ideas just seemed to spill out of her.
She couldn't know that it wasn't this easy. He couldn't just call in heaven and say '𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘥𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥'. And she especially could not call heaven. Was there even something like a telephone up there? Not in the human way anyways.
After the 10th idea he didn't listen anymore, instead he just waited for a short break of her talking, shook his head, and kept looking out the window. He did feel bad about it, he came here after all. He had, kind of, 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 for their help. And now he just ignored everything they suggested. But it just wasn't the same, they didn't know, they couldn't. Maybe this had been a mistake.

It was then that Nina suggested Maggie and Muriel should maybe go make some tea for them, have a little break.
Once the two of them had left the room, Nina turned to him.
"So, what's really going on?"

"What?" He sat up a bit more, looking at her confused.

"Well this, you, mister Fell, everything is clearly not 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭" she gestured around at the word 'normal', maybe because she wanted him to know there was not one 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘺, who knows.

But Crowley couldn't just spill everything now, that'd be irresponsible even for him. So instead he gave a vague shrug.
Nina pointedly raised one eyebrow at that, "we saw you best up some monster demons or whatever those were. It's quite obvious you're not just 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦. You're not as good at hiding it as you believe."

Crowley was, shocked? Maybe, but he had to admit that they truly hadn't been the most subtle sometimes. And maybe an army of demons attacking was some indicator that something wasn't quite normal.

So, he explained again. More elaboratly this time. Although he decided to leave out some of the more… concerning details (for example that they just barely stopped Armageddon 4 years ago, poor Nina did not need more to add to the list of concerns and confusion.). But she knew now, as much as she needed to know.

6000 years they had been together. 6000 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴.

She had listened patiently to his summary of it all (as much as you can summarize the entire world history in just a few minutes), sometimes laughing at the absurdity of their adventures, and furrowing her brows with concern as he mentioned the flask of holy water Aziraphale had acquired for him in the 1940s.

"Do you still have it?" She asked, once he finally finished. Satan, he hadn't talked this much since… since Aziraphale had left.
He looked at her questioningly.

"You know, the holy water" oh, that.
"Yea, that stuff doesn't seem to go bad"

He frown deepened at that. "Do you- are you thinking about using it?"

He chuckled at that, the thought had crossed his mind recently, it seemed absurd though, his Angel left and suddenly, after all this time, he thought about throwing it all away.

"Crowley I'm being quite serious. I'm asking if you want to die." Her voice was not harsh, but laced with concern, and Crowley looked down at the floor, shrugging.

"I don't '𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦' sometimes, I just wish… I wish I'd never been born at all. Or created. Or however I've come into existence! I'd ask, but you see where asking has gotten me so far!" Crowley had never actually admitted it out loud, all this had just seemed pointless at times. And now that… well. That he didn't have anyone to spend eternity with, it all just seemed like an endless, lonely, nothingness.

Nina seemed to be searching for something to say in response, when Maggie returned with 2 cups of tea, Muriel behind her with another 2 cups.
She really did remind him of Aziraphale, Crowley noticed then, but he couldn't quite decide if that was a nice, or just another miserable joke by God.

He accepted the tea, thanked her and slumped back down into his seat, watching the steam rise from his cup, it smelled good.

Crowley barely noticed silent chattering starting up again, it seemed the others might want to distract him somehow, make him feel better. But it didn't help, Crowley toned it out, deciding to brute in silence. He was so done with all of this.

Several minutes passed like this, when the door to the bookshop suddenly chimed open, interrupting their conversation, Nina took in a sharp breath as she saw who it was.
He stood in the entrance, wearing a white suit, head held high, if a bit unsure, jaw clenched and still fiddling with his suit.
Crowley's head snapped around to see who it was. And then, finally, he saw him again.

Aziraphale had returned.

A whole army of emotions ran the Demon over, he didn't think it was possible to feel this much at once.

He stood up, ready to charge at the Angel. Anger rose up inside of him, bubbling up, taking over all the other emotions, it was like fire, and he was ready to set this all ablaze, burn Aziraphale and his stupid angelic face and his stupid bookshop to the ground with rage and- and…
Crowley was confused. What he felt wasn't the hatred he had anticipated, hoped for even, he was, of course, angry, but much more he was relieved, happy even, to see Aziraphale again. His Angel, oh his sweet Angel. He hadn't realized how used to his presence he had gotten. And how much it pained him when he was gone.
But now that Aziraphale had returned, it was like a weight lifting of his shoulders, like the knot that had, unbeknownst to Crowley, formed inside his stomach finally loosened.

So, instead of spitting insults at him, he just stood there, a bit awkwardly, and all Crowley could say, was a breathy "Angel".

And his Angel looked at him, finally, oh how Crowley had missed those eyes, and the smile that formed on his lips. But it wasn't quite the same. And his voice was close somehow, absent, or maybe above, as he replied. "Hello, Crowley", he nodded a hello towards the others too.
At that, Muriel finally freed themselves from the silence they had been in and rushed towards Aziraphale.

"Arch- Mr Fell! Hello!" Muriel eyed Nina and Maggie for a second before continuing "It's a pleasure to see you again!" they said, smiling brightly.
"Ah yes, hello" he smiled kindly, "I actually came to talk to Crowley" the others looked at him expectantly before he continued "... In private?"
"Ah yes, of course" Nina said, standing up, ushering the others to follow suit and leave the Angel and the demon alone.

—

"I'm glad to have found you here" Aziraphale said, standing awkwardly. It seemed wrong to Crowley. This was his shop after all, it was his home.
"You should sit down" he said then, gesturing towards Aziraphale's usual seat. The Angel looked at it, and Crowley would swear he saw something sad flash across Aziraphale's face, regret maybe, homesickness?
But the Angel shook his head "no, thank you. I just have a few things to discuss with you"

"You're not coming back then?" Crowley couldn't help it, he sounded resigned, sad, he had hoped they could leave heaven behind now, but as it seemed, Aziraphale had other ideas.

"What?" Aziraphale appeared a bit shocked at Crowley's insinuation. "No. I came here to tell you that" he took in a heavy breath, straightening his shoulders "everything is good now. In heaven. It's good in heaven and I" another breath, "I wanted to give you another chance"
Aziraphale looked hopeful, expectant.

Crowley couldn't believe it, he huffed out a breath "you can't be serious, Aziraphale."
The Angel looked at him, confused, "what do you mean by that?" He asked.

"Oh you know what I mean. Can't you see what they're trying to do? This isn't good, Angel" he was getting angry again. Turning to walk across the room.

"Technically, it's Supreme Archangel, now" Aziraphale said defensively,  "and all Heaven does, all 𝘸𝘦 do is try to fix everything, we can fix you too".

And this hurt. More than Crowley could've expected. He had thought, after all these years, Aziraphale might accept him for who he was, despite everything, but no.
Heaven is what broke him, and Aziraphale was too blinded by their light to see!

The Angel continued talking before Crowley could say anything.
"But we can fix all these mistakes, if you just came with me! I just don't understand what's keeping you here, why you just won't come and we can live happily, together, in heaven"

"I want to be with you!"

"Then come with me! Please Crowley!" He sounded desperate now, pleading with the Demon.

But the Angel didn't understand. Of course he didn't. But Crowley needed him to, more than anything, maybe there was still a chance.
He took in a sharp breath, eyes locked to the floor. There was no turning back now. He needed Aziraphale to know.

"Isn't it obvious?!" Crowley was yelling then, even though he didn't mean to, but he couldn't control it anymore. He had been keeping this in for years, and all he could to now was desperately trying to keep the tears from escaping his eyes
"I love you!"
He exhaled shakily, finally looking at Aziraphale "And if I went to heaven together, everything would change. We wouldn't be just us anymore, I couldn't love you like I can on earth. I can't and won't change the way I feel for you. Because that's what it would take to follow you to Heaven. You can't expect me to change this, Aziraphale. It's the best thing about me!"
It was a selfish thing to say, but it was true. He loved Aziraphale, and that might be the only good thing about him.
Crowley stepped closer, trying to reach out to his Angel, but stopping just before he could touch him, pulling his hand back
"no matter what, in any timeline, Demon or Angel, I would've fallen for you, over and over. Nothing can change that, not you, or heaven, or hell. After all these years, do you still don't get it? I need you here! I love you, Aziraphale!"

It was silent for a long time after that, Crowley was breathing heavily. Silently begging for something, anything in response.
Aziraphale looked shocked, maybe scared, disbelieving, hurt? He wished the Angel would just say something. Love him back, or hate him, yell, curse at the Demon. But he knew his Angel wouldn't do that, he was too kind, too caring to shatter all that Crowley had left.
Even if it may have been the only thing that would've saved Crowley. Because, although he did not want to admit it just then, he knew Aziraphale would choose Heaven. He so desperately wanted to do good. But this heaven wasn't what Aziraphale thought it was, Crowley knew that much.

"Oh Crowley..." The Angel let out a shaky breath, fidgeting with a button of his vest. 

"No. We did this before. Aziraphale. Just listen, open your goddamn eyes! Heaven is no good. It is toxic. Can't you see what they're doing to you?!"

Aziraphale huffed out a breath "You can't ask me to give up everything for you again."

"I'm not! You gave up everything you loved for heaven. Just do this one thing, Angel. Please, it's not too late, we can still fix this"

It was his last, desperate attempt. But deep down, Crowley knew his hopes were for nothing. They had gotten Aziraphale. Fed him with their lies and hollow promises, and Aziraphale, oh his Angel, he wanted to believe in the good. Heaven was supposed to be good. And his Angel didn't realize that their love and light were filled with poison.

Like a radioactive glow, pulling everyone who just wants the world to shine bright, into their web of lies.

Chapter Text

"You can't ask me to give up everything for you again." Aziraphale said, and it was true. Crowley 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 him, made him impure.
Aziraphale had risked his entire 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 just to spend time with the demon.
And now, after Aziraphale has finally gotten the chance to prove himself worthy, Crowley wanted him to leave everything behind to chase something inherently impossible.
He didn't hate Crowley, but it was entirely absurd for Aziraphale to love him.
It wouldn't be right for an angel to want someone in that way, much less with a demon.

And Aziraphale knew that if he stayed, if he allowed himself to leave heaven, he would love Crowley for eternity. He'd leave everything behind for a second with the demon, and he would hate it because it wouldn't be right.
That was the fantasy of a tainted mind. It was wrong to think like that and Aziraphale knew that very well.
He could never be sure of anything. Was he blinded by the Demon's lies, by his love, he couldn't let the world suffer while living a good life.

Aziraphale has to be good. Be worthy. Be loyal.

He can't just leave everything behind for a silly- a wrong fantasy.

"I'm not! You gave up everything you loved for heaven. Just do this one thing, Angel!"
Crowley sounded close to crying. Desperate.
"Please, it's not too late, we can still fix this"

But this wasn't the right way of fixing it, Aziraphale knew - Metatron had told him. It's wrong. His thoughts were all wrong and messed up, the Demon had done it again! He made his thoughts all wrong. All messed up and 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘳.

Aziraphale got irritated, confused. Didn't Crowley 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 to see, or was he too blinded by hell and their ideals?

And Aziraphale got 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺, not at Crowley or heaven or hell. Not really. But at this situation. Why couldn't Crowley just understand. Why couldn't everything just be good. Why did everything have to be this complicated?
Why did he have to feel and think and wish and dream? It wasn't good. It wasn't pure.
He needed to rid himself of this, these mortal emotions, he was supposed to serve a greater purpose, and for that he needed to be clean. Clean of sin and impurity.

"That's so typical of you. All you do is take, and all I do is give. You took everything I held dear to me, my innocence and my purity! Tell me how that's fair"

Aziraphale was surprised by what he said, but there was no time to think about this right now. He had to do this, he had to get out, get back to heaven. If he stayed any longer, he might not be able to tear himself away again.

"I gave you a life outside of those fanatics up there! I'd say that's pretty fair considering how much they brainwashed you"
Crowley was gesturing wildly, barely being able to contain his emotions.

"You're just trying to tempt me again." Aziraphale's fingers absentmindedly brushed the place where the Demon's lips had touched his.
And quieter, he continued. He didn't want to hurt Crowley, he didn't want- he didn't know what he wanted, or what he thought. But heaven was right, they had to be. They were the good ones. The only right option. The only option.

Aziraphale continued, despite the pain inside his gut, and his heart yelling at him to stop, to not hurt his Demon, he had to say it, heaven has to be right. "You make me blind to everything that's wrong in this world, because that's what demons do. That's exactly the reason why another Armageddon needs to come"
He clasped a hand over his mouth. Why did he have to say this? No one was supposed to know.
What if Metatron found out, what if Aziraphale had ruined the divine plan, what if he destroyed everything?

"What? What are you talking about Angel?"

Aziraphale thought, desperately trying to find a way out of this, make it right, follow the plan, prove himself.
But the damage was done now. And if he explained, if Crowley would listen, maybe he would understand. Perhaps he'd reconsider. And then he could prove himself worthy too, he could come home too... Aziraphale could talk to Metatron?
If Aziraphale had the chance to fix himself, why couldn't Crowley. He had been an angel before… he should be able to cleanse himself too.
And everything would be ok. Everything could be good.

"They- 𝘸𝘦 will fix all of this…" he started, but before he could explain Crowley interrupted him.

"Have you actually lost your mind? Don't you love this world?"

"I want to save this world! And if you would just listen you'd know-" Aziraphale needed him to just listen, understand, why wouldn't Crowley just come with Aziraphale, why couldn't he see?

"But am Armageddon is going to DESTROY it all! How blind can you be?"
It was wrong. All wrong. Aziraphale needed this to stop, why couldn't everything just be ok, he had to fix this.
Fix this. Just make everything alright.

"I'm not blind anymore! I can finally see all the terror here. And we're going to make it all right." He was desperately trying to make Crowley see, to keep it together until everything could be good again..

"But that's not what armageddon is, for Satan's sake, Aziraphale, they tried to kill you! And now they're trying to kill everyone!"
Aziraphale remembered it, back when him and Crowley had switched bodies, but that was because heaven - God, just wanted everyone to be good, and he was a problem for that! He was the reason the world still suffered!

"Well that- we're- we are trying to do something good here, Crowley!"
He had to fix it.

"No matter how much you're trying to be good, there are no excuses for killing millions of innocent people! They're going to kill innocent children, open your eyes!"

Aziraphale couldn't listen to this anymore. God had a plan. And the plan had reason. It's for the greater good.
This needs to be done to fix everything.
"We're going to save everyone who is good. This is how it is supposed to be, it's part of the great plan and god-"

"What are you even talking about?! 'The great plan'- This leads to absolutely nothing? What did they DO to you for you to worship this mass slaughter?!"

"It is not what you believe, don't trick me, demon. They freed me. I wanted the same for you. But you chose to stay blind. This is simply what needs to be done. And I'm... I'm sorry you cannot see that."
Aziraphale is breathing heavily. He swiped his hands across his face to find out he was crying, tears spilling out of angelic eyes, over a demon.

He looked at Crowley, expecting some kind of remark, yelling, or cursing. But what Aziraphale found instead were bright yellow eyes filled with tears. A face of disbelief and hurt.
He took a shaky breath, searching for words that could explain, ease this pressure and this pain, but Crowley was faster.

“I guess I'll just go then. Take all the light with you if you want, Archangel. I know the truth.”
Crowley sounded resigned, much more quiet than he usually was. Before Aziraphale could respond, the demon took a step back, opening the door and leaving.

Aziraphale felt utterly abandoned. Alone, something inside him wanted to cry out, run after Crowley and tell him how sorry he was, that he needed him, that he didn't mean it.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰.

But he couldn't. It would be wrong. Instead, Aziraphale walked to the elevator he had talked with Metatron.
He clenches his jaw, what was wrong with him, why did he even come here, why did he still try to fix Crowley. It was useless.
Crowley didn't want to be good. Aziraphale had to accept that.

But he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, about him and about what he said. It wasn't true. It couldn't be.
Heaven was good, all God wanted was to fix the world the demons had ruined.

And everything could be good again.

Once everything was over, no one would have to suffer anymore, no more hunger, no more pain, no more war. Everything would be perfect the way God intended it to be.

Still deep in thought, he stepped out of the elevator to find Metatron waiting for him.

“Archangel Aziraphale, may I ask where you have been?”

Aziraphale looked up at him, he looked… disappointed.
Did he know? He must know.
Aziraphale froze in place, but there was no point in lying. Even if Metatron didn't already know, lying was wrong. He had already done so much wrong, this couldn't be another thing added to the list. And he had good intentions, wasn't that important too? Something to be considered when thinking about someone?

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

“I was at the bookshop.” Aziraphale said quietly.

Metatron nodded slowly, starting to walk so that Aziraphale had to jog slightly to catch up to him again. “And what could you have done down there?” he asked, coldly.
Aziraphale fiddled with his hands, trying to find a way to say this without making the situation worse, but eventually he resigned himself to telling the truth. If it was as bad as he feared, Aziraphale deserved the punishments he would receive.
“I tried to, to fix things. C- the demon, maybe I could have made him understand but- but it didn't work so, I came back”

Metatron was silent, so much so that Aziraphale would have preferred point blank rage instead. But his superior took a breath, seemingly composing himself, and looked at Aziraphale, “And did you learn anything from that encounter?”

Aziraphale was perplexed, he had expected more of a reprimand, a punishment. But Metatron sounded calm, monotone almost.

“Well- uhm. That. I'm sorry I don't think I quite understand-” he tried, what was he supposed to say now?

“Did you see with your own eyes that demons are evil? That your 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 for them, and that Crowley in particular, is no good”

Aziraphale felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the mention of Crowley. He didn't like how his name sounded in Metatron's words. It was like he spat it out, with disgust and hatred, like the name was bitter in his throat. With sharp edges and a hatred that, to Aziraphale's revelation, didn't fit the demon at all. Crowley was always warm in his mind, he was comfort and 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦… ?

“Maybe- I was wondering, what if-” but before he could finish a question that he had thought out, Metatron stopped him, anger glistening in his cold eyes.

“You should've known better than this. You know very well that God doesn't approve of this, Aziraphale.” The Angel wanted to look away as shame rose up in him. His skin started to burn up, and he knew.
What he felt was wrong, it was against God and this constant back and forth in his head meant he wasn't pure. Not yet. He had to stop thinking about Crowley and be good. Be faithful. Loyal to God. There was his purpose.

“I am sorry, you are right. Of course. Demons-” he paused, it pained him to say these words. But it was true. It had to be said, “All demons are evil. They are against God and we need to get rid of them”

Metatron nodded approvingly, “very well. Now come, we have important matters to discuss.”
He said finally, leading Aziraphale to a meeting with the other Angels.

Armageddon would happen, and Aziraphale would make sure of that.