Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. It was winter in London, which meant the light was long gone and left the city feeling lonely and protected by a foggy darkness. The usual classical music was carefully exchanged for soft blues, bitterly mocking the ache in his heart. He was reading a first edition romance and enjoying a cup of hot chocolate, when the clock announced it was 6pm already. “Two more hours” he thought, sinking even deeper into the worn armchair.
It was the third time he was visiting the bookshop in the five years since he’s left. He could only manage to slip away when every other angel was busy with meetings about the Second Coming that did not need the Supreme Archangel’s attention; or rather meetings to which he was not welcome anymore, since he dared to disagree on the first one.
It was exactly as he thought, he was but a pawn to the Metatron, being Supreme Archangel just in theory, when in reality he did not have power over anything. It was a prison, one full of light and white and cold all over. A prison that Aziraphale could never escape because he made a decision five years ago, a promise to himself to keep the most important thing in the universe safe: Crowley.

Either you leave him and stop contacting him, or he goes back to hell for the rest of eternity. God’s plan. You can be good, Aziraphale. You can do good. If there’s no one to distract you. No one to tempt you into humanity as he does. This is God’s plan, choose wisely. If you come with me to Heaven, he can live life as he did, on Earth, alone. If you don’t, you won’t suffer any consequences, but you will be there to watch him fall to Hell, and more. You will be the one assigned to his torture. It is usually a demon’s responsibility to torture souls in Hell, but we will make an exception for you, Satan’s already agreed to this idea. I’m gonna come back to the bookshop in 15 minutes and I want to know your decision.. The Metatron’s eyes seemed almost kind, but they hid a certain darkness. He was clearly waiting, hoping for a reaction. Aziraphale’s hands were trembling under the table and the river of tears that wanted to escape his eyes were carefully miracled away. Very well he managed to say and left the table, making sure his steps were firm, one after another.

When he arrived at the bookshop, he didn’t have time to think, he saw Crowley was already there, already preparing to tell him something important. He could see the innocent hope grazing his beautiful, sparkly eyes. He knew that if he were to tell Crowley the truth, he would follow him, risking anything Aziraphale was careful to avoid in exchange for 6000 years of torture. So he chose to hurt him, to distance himself from him, hoping that Crowley couldn’t see through his disguise. His shaking hands were fidgeting and his heart was rebellious inside his chest, but he will not give up now. He will not hurt his friend.
When Crowley confessed, Aziraphale felt like a thousand thorns were ripping him from inside out. He wanted to scream, to run to him and hold him, never letting him out of his arms. But he could feel the Metatron watching, and moreover he knew that if he dropped his mask now he would HAVE to hurt the only other being in the universe that he truly, purely loved. So he stayed strong and continued the speech that he knew would make Crowley hate him, and he felt his heart sink into despair when he put his sunglasses on. When the demon started walking through the door, he cried out for him, desperately, selfishly. But Crowley was already hurt enough, telling him about the now muted nightingale, and tears were already filling his eyes. He turned around so that the demon would not notice and before he knew his heart exploded and his face was buried in Crowley’s, their lips meeting in a desperate, unsynchronized dance and he dared to close his eyes for just a second, to imagine what could have been, wishing he could stop time and die in this moment. But Crowley broke the kiss and he quickly remembered what the Metatron has said about Aziraphale being the one to torture Crowley in Hell. He has already seen his friend tortured once before, even if the demon did not remember and he would rather spend the last of his tormented existence without his loved one than see him in that kind of pain ever again. So he pushed him away one last time, his soul in pieces and departed for Heaven.

He snapped back from the painful memory and set the book aside, carefully opening the secret drawer of his desk. It was a photo of them on the night of the magic show, so many years ago. It was the only one he had kept, even this memory of his loved one hidden and far away from him. By now, he knew every crease of the photo, every single drop of colour in it, Crowley’s slender, beautiful figure and his hidden grin, it perfectly portrayed how it has always been between them: two angels who loved each other fiercely and deep, but at the same time so gentle, so out of sight, so full of dread, so careful, never too careful, never too distant. It has hurt, but he couldn’t have lived any other way.

Then one specific song started playing and The Supreme Archangel could not hold back his tears anymore, allowing his corporation sob and tremble, wanting to crush the picture in his fists but being gentle with it, just like he wished he had been with Crowley.

Well, the room is crowded—people everywhere
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well, if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it
Before the evening's gone away, I think that we can make it
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you

In the last five years, he had come up with a number of scenarios about what Crowley may be doing. Some were painful, the ones in which Crowley is happy alongside someone else, the ones in which Crowley can love someone else. But others were dreadful, those in which he is unwell, drinking, suffering or even going back to Hell, just to hurt himself, thinking Aziraphale does not love him, does not want him. One scenario, however, was Aziraphale’s personal hell: the one in which Crowley took a sip, just one, of the thing that would destroy him, holy water, in which Crowley was NOT anymore, and Aziraphale didn’t even know, didn’t even find out. He thought several times about investigating him, or asking Muriel to, just to make sure his love was alright. But it was way too dangerous and selfish, so he only hoped the demon was safe and sound and that he would eventually forget and be happy without him.

Now, it's closing time
The music's fading out
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout
Well, I turn around to look at you—you're nowhere to be found
I search the place for your lost face—guess I'll have another round
And I think that I just fell in love with you

At this point, he was crying so hard that his head began to throb. He let himself dissolve in this pain, still looking at the picture, his hot chocolate now cold. He had to be strong, had to try and stop the Second Coming and save Earth. Thankfully, he had 28 more years until the new Jesus would die, and he had gathered some respect in his last five years in Heaven, even if it was not enough yet. But after it was all over, what would it have meant if Crowley was not by his side? Another song started playing, just as the watch announced another hour had passed and he had 60 minutes to return to Heaven.

A sight for sore eyes it's a long time no see
Workin' hard hardly workin
Hey man, you know me
Water under the bridge did y'a see my new car
Well it's bought and it's payed for parked outside of the bar

Just as he lowered his tear-stained face on the desk, picture still in his hand, the bookshop’s door opened.
“I’m afraid we are closed, please come back tomorrow!” he said in a clear voice, not picking his head up and miracled the door locked.

He stood up straight, wiping his tears and straightening his waistcoat, not letting the picture out of his hand. The door opened again and Crowley stepped inside, closing it behind him with a snap of his fingers. His sunglasses were in his left hand, his naked eyes huge, fixed on him, not saying a word. Aziraphale would have contemplated using a miracle to disappear, had his heart not started to beat so hard inside his chest that he forgot who he was, or that his human body was only a vessel. And the tears came with no warning this time.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale has always enjoyed being human, or pretending to be. He used his corporation just as humans did, allowing it to be as real as possible. Apart from sleep, which he did not fancy because it made him too vulnerable and seemed like a waste of time he could instead spend in a million other ways, he lived the majority of his 6000 years just like a human would, rarely turning off any of the corporation’s features. This is why, this time when the tears came, he felt helpless, like being sucked into a nothingness that’s been ever-growing in his soul for the past five years.

It was not romantic as he has seen in movies or read in books: he was sobbing, gasping for air, whimpering, his vision blurry and his heart aching so bad he thought he might die of a heart attack. Humans were pretty fragile, after all. He was still facing Crowley, but didn’t look at him, his head lowered while his shoulders were trembling uncontrollably. “I-I Crow-ley” was all he managed to say before his knees gave out and he fell to the ground, his breaths even more irregular, his heart beating frantically in his chest. With his last rational thought, he recognized what was happening to him: “panic attack” is what humans call it. He tried twice to snap his fingers and miracle some dignity back into this corporation, but to his absolute shock, nothing seemed to have happened. At that point, he couldn’t tell for how long he’s been crying, or even how long it’s been since he fell on the ground, unable to calm down. He was spiralling now and everything was too intense, Crowley being there was too much because it meant that he was in danger and his presence made Aziraphale remember every second in which he dreamt about seeing him again, just one more time.

Then he felt a warmth he’s never felt before, in his whole existence. His eyes were still closed, tears were still threatening but his lungs seemed more relaxed, his breaths starting to even out. He felt a hand on his back, gently caressing the space between his shoulder blades, like the ghost of a very careful touch. He didn’t dare to move, still unsure of what was happening to him, but he slowly opened his eyes and noticed he was surrounded by dark, silky feathers, Crowley’s wings. Those beautiful wings that he hated to display because of how vulnerable and exposed it made him feel. Aziraphale knew very well what happened to Crowley’s wings after he fell, the memories of that pain always sent shivers down his spine.

Music was still softly playing in the background, tickling the angel’s ears with a song about home, a thing he couldn’t have anymore. Aziraphale hoped with every fibre of his being he would find his way back to Crowley someday, he was the only home he’s ever known. Even though hope was all he had, he chose to close his eyes again, just as he did during their kiss five years ago and pretend. He wanted to pretend that they could have this, that there would be a moment in which this could be proper, in which they had time, in which they would never have to say goodbye ever again.

Well, I stumbled in the darkness
I'm lost and alone
Though I said I'd go before us
And show the way back home

Is there a light up ahead?
I can't hold on very long
Forgive me, pretty baby
But I always take the long way home

Before realising, Aziraphale sighed, a small, unintentional sound of exhaustion, fear and relief, all combined in an involuntary reaction. It was Crowley who broke the hug, putting both hands on the angel’s shoulders and waiting for him to meet his gaze. “Aziraphale” he said, softly, like a prayer, like a secret. “Angel” he continued, firm but still gentle, while moving a cold hand on the angel’s cheek, hovering, barely touching his skin. He didn’t say anything, but instead he pushed his cheek harder against the demon’s palm, taking in a shaky breath. They stayed like this for who knows how long and when Aziraphale spoke, it was hoarse and weak. “Crowley” he said while lifting his face to meet the demon’s eyes. Tears were falling again but this time he didn’t look away, wanting to remember every single part of his lover’s face, to imprint all of him in his mind, to never let go of this moment. He managed a weak, half smile, just when the clock announced the last hour of his visit had passed and the time of his return to Heaven had come. Aziraphale flinched. He broke Crowley’s embrace, standing up, going past him and carefully tidying up his suit.

“I-thank you for helping me. Even though it was completely unnecessary. Seems like this corporation tends to be rather emotional, if not used for an extended period of time. And I really missed the bookshop, Earth, everything!” he managed with a fake, large smile, not daring to look back to where Crowley was, still on the floor, appalled. “Everything” but the only thing he truly missed in his time in heaven, it was a necessary lie. “I’m afraid I have rather pressing matters to attend to right now. I will be on my way. Please close the shop before leaving!” he said, while already walking towards the door.

Chapter Text

Right when his hand touched the handle, ready to leave, to run to Heaven, too afraid he won’t be able to if he sees Crowley’s face again, Aziraphale felt a firm pressure on his shoulders and felt his body quickly turning into the demon’s direction. Crowley’s hands were gripping his arms now, with enough force that this would certainly leave bruises, his face desperate and tired, eyes gazing at him.

“I really am sorry for the misunderstanding, I shall leave now” he said, trying to break free of the demon’s hold, but Crowley did not move, tightening the grip.

“Let me go! Crowley!” he shouted, feeling the tears threaten him again, his hands already trembling.

“No!” the demon said, calm and cold, eyes not leaving the angel’s.
“Not until you say what the fuck that was earlier and why the fuck you’re here. Not until I hear an explanation!”

“I already told you what it was! It was barely a malfunction and I really have to get going!” he managed, hopeless, while looking at the watch indicating that he was already 5 minutes late. He was never late to come back to Heaven.

“Then what about this?” Crowley said, anger taking over, while raising the picture Aziraphale was looking at before the demon entered the bookshop.

“There’s nothing about this, just a photograph I hoarded over the years. You know how I like to remember things.”

“Mm, sure, just a photograph you happened to hold while crying.”

“Oh, Crowley, please, I was certainly not crying, this corporation was and I couldn’t miracle it away. Why would I cry over a photograph? It does not mean anything, it never did. I was actually planning on throwing it away, before it happened, if you must know.”

“Then do it now!” Crowley said and with a snap of his fingers a small can with fire bursting out of it appeared between them. “Go on, burn it” his eyes were bright, daring.

Aziraphale quickly snatched the photograph from the demon’s hand and tucked it away in the inside of his coat. He tried to get past Crowley, without saying a word. The demon tried to get a hold of him again, but this time he used his angel power to shove him. Maybe he used too much of it, because Crowley stumbled and fell right next to the fire can. He was not hurt by the fall, but he certainly looked like it. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the fire ceased.
His eyes were a deep dark purple when he looked into the demon’s direction, his face grave and emotionless: “Do not come into my bookshop again!”. Then he left the shop, without closing the door behind him.

—

He was running towards the elevator now, panting, already making up excuses for his late arrival, when he bumped into Muriel. “Supreme Archangel!” they said, their eyes curious. “Muriel, hello, dear!” Aziraphale managed a weak smile, “I just came to check on the books for a bit, I see you took great care of the bookshop while I was gone. Thank you!”

Muriel looked at him, fidgeting, deciding upon what to say next “Yes-uhm, it was not me who looked after it! I was here for about a week until the Metatron sent me to attend, uhm, “more serious business” he said. I come here twice a year to make sure everything is still in order, but Mr. Crowley is the one who is there all the time. He offered to take my place and look after the shop after you left, and I figured you two are, or were, friends so…”. Then they paused, and took a deep breath “I’m sorry I didn’t ask, but I figured you had more important things to do as the Supreme Archangel and I assure you Mr Crowley is taking excellent care of everything, as far as I can tell. But, uhm, I can ask them to stop and send someone else from Heaven instead, if that’s your wish. He could move out pretty quickly.”

Aziraphale’s head was throbbing, what was Muriel taking care of that was important and how come the Metatron has left such a low rank angel with such responsibility. He had a dozen questions, but one in particular managed to escape his mouth first “Crowley is living in the bookshop?”

Muriel looked confused “Well, yes, they said their apartment was taken 6 years ago by Hell, right after Armagedon and I suggested he could stay at the bookshop, as he was already there all the time anyway, drinking and-” they sighed and sucked in a breath “Anyway, they did not agree at first but I insisted and now he’s lived there on and off for about 4 years and a half. He sometimes disappears for weeks but he always, always returns to the bookshop. I’ll call him right now and ask him to leave, if that’s what you want!” they said, holding up a phone in their left hand, clumsily typing something.
“No need, dear!” the angel said. He has just asked Crowley to leave his home, so he would not follow him back to Heaven. “Tell him to stay and take care of the bookshop for you. But don’t mention we ever had this conversation, alright dear?”.
“Yes, Supreme Archangel!”

Another moment passed and Aziraphale remembered he was actually in a rush “Please, take care of him, for me. Be his friend. Unfortunately I cannot do that right now.” he was looking at Muriel, then his watch. “And, Muriel? Come and see me soon, when you have time, I would like to discuss with you about what the Metatron asked you to look after! You know where to find me! Goodbye now!” he smiled, genuinely this time. It was the first real lead he’s had in five years, he was not going to let it slip away.
“I will! Goodbye, Supreme Archangel!” Muriel said, just as the elevator’s door was closing. He will not be just a pawn in this story any longer.

Chapter Text

After Aziraphale left, Crowley stayed like that for a while. He couldn’t say for how long, but when the floor started to get cold and his human knees got sore, he pushed himself up, putting his sunglasses back on.

The first time the angel left him, he was furious. He was hurt and only wanted to get away, far away, but somehow managed to stumble into the exact same bookshop, once the alcohol set in his brain. He never miracled away his drunkenness, it was an emptiness he needed in order to survive and so was the hangover afterwards that kept him busy and offered another kind of pain, a manageable one, a distraction. It was his third consecutive intoxicated night when he met Muriel at the bookshop, eyes wide, looking at him, an innocent concern on their face: pity, but not the pity one displays out of superiority, the pity of a loving, pure hearted angel that offered to help him and be his friend.

They stayed up late for a couple of nights, with the demon pouring his heart and his eyes out and the angel listening and being there to comfort him. Muriel suggested he keep the bookshop and stay there until he got better, or for as long as he saw fit. His pride did not want to let him accept their offer, but the bookshop was still his angel’s and everything was in the exact same place he put them and it still smelled like him, so he said yes and made the bookshop his home ever since. There were times in which he went away, searching for anything that would point him back to Aziraphale, looking for a reason, for an answer. In the end, his expeditions were somehow fruitful, but he needed to keep low and handle this with care. He will not risk anything this time, because he understood it was not only his existence at stake, but also his angel’s. He kept the facade towards Muriel, getting drunk and seeming miserable once or twice a year when they would come and visit, not giving them any reason for suspicion. Muriel was good, too good for Heaven, just like Aziraphale has been, and he slowly talked them into revealing bits of what they were doing. They started to question Heaven too, but it would take too much time to rely on them for actual help, and Crowley did not have that time anymore, nor did he want to push Muriel in any way or put them in danger.

He had been away for the day to visit Adam Young when he headed back to the bookshop and saw the lights were on. They were never on, because nobody but Crowley lived there. He knew something was wrong. When he knocked on the door and Aziraphale answered, he felt as if not more than a second had passed since he left. He was invaded by a ray of hope that made him lose his breath. It wouldn’t have taken much to tell the angel all about his plan, his findings. When he saw him cry like that he wanted to cry with him, to hold him and never let him go. He hoped, dreamed that maybe he was wrong all those years, that Aziraphale had not chosen Heaven, that maybe he had a plan of his own.

But when Aziraphale snapped out of it, his walls were high up again, impenetrable and he just left, leaving Crowley even emptier than the first time. He told Crowley to leave the bookshop and never come back, but while his Archangel eyes were a feral, angry purple they were glistening with tears. Right then, Crowley could easily read through the practised coldness: Aziraphale was scared. His angel was scared of something and he was even more scared of Crowley finding out. He did not know what it could be, or why Aziraphale was behaving this strange, but he will sure as Hell find out.

Just as he steadied his breath, Muriel entered the shop, a warm smile on their face “Mr. Crowley! So nice to see you again! How have you been?”

“Ugk, hello! Nice to see you. Still acting like you don’t text me whenever you get bored of your little Heaven mission? You know how I’ve been! We talk daily!”

“Well, it could be anyone responding to my messages, this is why I was suggesting video calls, to ensure-”

“Don’t even think about it! Ever. I’m a demon, I don’t do video calls!”

“But you use emojis now, I figured-”

“Can we talk about why you’re here instead? It’s only been a month since your last visit.”

“Yes, surely.”

“So” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow “Talk.”

“Now that I think about it, it’s dangerous and I don’t think it’s a good idea, I don’t wanna put you in any danger. Friends don’t put each other in danger and I promised I will be your-”

“Oh come on! It’s always a good idea, you know I love myself some fancy little danger, I live for it!” he said, grinning, then his smile suddenly dropped “Hold on! Who did you promise that you’ll be my friend?”

Muriel seemed quite nervous when they quickly said “No one, really. Myself. Anyway..I found something. Something I shouldn’t have and it’s on me right now and I think we need to hide it before Heaven finds it and something terrible happens.”

Anxiety flowed through Crowley: “What did you find?”

“I found Aziraphale’s sword.”

Chapter Text

When Aziraphale arrived in Heaven, the main hall was empty, only a white light silently dancing with the usual coldness. He hated it here more than anything. He did not think angels were capable of hate, until somewhere during his second year in Heaven. It was when he first visited Earth and had to return from the bookshop that he felt his chest heavy with something new. He later found out it was hate, an angry, rabid feeling rising from the core of his existence towards what should have been the place of truth, of light, of good.

During his existence, what started as pure, immaculate love, has expanded to a complex system of emotions. Some he felt and recognized immediately, others he kept secret for as long as he could, under buckets full of guilt and shame. He felt happiness when humans were designed, when he saw Crowley’s stars for the first time. His name was Kokabiel back then, his soul pure and uncorrupted by pain and hatred, his smile so beautiful he made the newly created celestial bodies seem dull and colourless. When he fell, Aziraphale met sorrow. He had felt so much pain, he abandoned everything for a few centuries, choosing to explore the universe alone, mending and polishing Kokabiel’s work. He knew relief when he saw a snake slither his way near him, on the wall of the garden. His smile was hidden behind many layers of agony and resentment, but it was no doubt the same and Aziraphale was happy to meet him, glad he was safe and most of all, grateful his eyes have not lost the spark that once taught the stars how to dance. When in Rome, he started to realise he felt something entirely new, something a bit too present whenever Crowley was near: lust. Being as indulgent as he was with every earthly pleasure, this realisation led him to try and experiment the carnal pleasures that humans often kill and betray for. It was good, as good as food, if not better. It was good as a well spoken word or a fantastic book, like the finest of silks slipping through fresh hands, like watching the sky set at sea or being warmed near a fire in the winter. He kept this pleasure amongst the others and took humans to bed, both men and women. Some of them he caressed with the sweetest touch, others he shoved and pulled until they begged and melted into his arms. Never has the number of his lovers been enough, because every time Crowley was near, the want and need in Aziraphale seemed to always want to take over. He couldn’t point out where and when he felt love for the first time. Not the kind of love he had for God, trusting, complete and whole, but the kind of love that was gnawing at his heart, making every second they spent apart feel too long. Sadly, he needed to keep Crowley at distance, because between the love and the lust, which at some point have formed a cruel and ambitious alliance against his judgement, he was very at risk of losing control and ruining everything for them both. When they kissed, that awful and desperate gesture, he felt as if everything before that moment had been a lie, and the only thing he truly FELT was Crowley’s lips on his, his hands on him and the taste of him, which he already knew he’ll never get enough of.

His daydreaming came to an end when he arrived in front of the conference room, which was opening just as he stepped foot in front of it. “The meeting’s been running late" he thought, triumphant; they didn’t notice his absence.

“Supreme Archangel, just in time. I was about to ask you to join us. Please!” Michel said, inviting Aziraphale in.

He straightened his bow, carefully, and stepped inside the room, making sure to place a big, inviting smile on his face. “Hello” he said, to everyone, then took a seat, waiting, making sure to stand as still as possible, so no one could tell how nervous and hopeful he was.

“Aziraphale. Welcome.”, the Metatron spoke, his voice even and determined.
“It’s time to make the most of your position, dear. And we have just the thing for you!”

Aziraphale fought the urge to fidget, stood up straighter and said, voice even “Yes, of course! Anything for Her Plan. What do I need to do?”

“We need someone to keep a close eye on the Second Jesus. Someone reliable. Someone good and kind. But mostly, we need someone who can go on Earth and handle things from there.”

“Why would that be needed now? He’s just four, did something happen?”

“Nothing happened, but I’m afraid some of our calculations were wrong. We have specifically chosen this family and place, everything for the kid to turn out perfect, as he ought to be.”

“And? Is he not?” Aziraphale couldn’t keep the question in, feeling his left eyebrow slightly raising. “They need my help” he thought. “They somehow fucked it up and need my help.”

The Metatron let out a long, exasperated sigh. Michael responded quickly after. “He is. He’s faithful and kind. He is full of love and forgiveness, just like the first one was.”

“I don’t really see the problem, then.” Aziraphale pointed out, knowing it would piss the other angels off. He had the upper hand now, might as well have a little fun with their misery.

“We didn’t have any kind of problems. Or none that we knew of, until today.”

“What happened today?”

Michael let their head fall down. “Muriel, the angel responsible for the kid, disappeared. The kid and the parents, too. The angel broke their halo so we can’t track them. We need you to track them for us and bring the kid back to safety.”

Aziraphale felt surprise conquering his face, eyes big and pupils dilated, mouth slightly open. His hands regained the usual fidget, meant to disguise a faint trembling of his arms whenever he was uncomfortable. “Muriel” he thought, feeling fear slowly creeping in on him. He tried to speak plainly, pretending not to have noticed how his body was responding.

“Or, we could just let the kid show himself. Jesus was really notorious in his time, kind of hard to go unnoticed. Might as well wait and let things unfold themselves. We have 29 more years until he comes of age and has to, uh, you know, sacrifice himself. I guess-”

“This is not the First Coming. The kid has to die when he’s 6. And Adam Young has to be the one to kill him. This will trigger the final war between Heaven and Hell. This is Her plan and we must follow it.”

“This is the most absurd thing I’ve heard in all my existence. Why does he need to die so - young? And what would Adam have to do with anything? He’s not Satan’s son anymore!” Aziraphale gasped, furious, losing control. “This is not Her plan, this can’t be Her plan!”

This was the last thing Aziraphale remembered before all he could sense was an aching cold, followed by wave after wave of sharp pain. And, the most terrifying of all, darkness.

Chapter Text

“You have what?!” Crowley shouted, his mouth remaining open for way longer than it needed to.

“I-look, Mr. Crowley, we need to hurry up, I will explain everything once we’re at the safehouse. Please. Trust me. I-our discussions over the years have made me realise many things. And I know Mr. Aziraphale is in danger. We need to save him. We’re going to save him, I have a plan. Please, let’s get the Bentley and go!”

“Angel’s in danger? Where is he? Is he Up there?” He was scared, terrified. He didn’t know what Muriel meant by danger, and every possible scenario was speedrunning in his head now and it was too much. What if he falls? What if they take his wings? What if they erase.. This thought he blocked, not even wanting to acknowledge it. He looked at Muriel, trusting them with not only his life, but the most important thing he has ever had: Aziraphale: “Fine, let’s go!” he said as he got out of the bookshop.

The Bentley was playing Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi when they started driving. Muriel said the drive would be quite long, so he sank in his chair and just drove, until they reached the destination. The safehouse was in the middle of a forest 4 hours away from the bookshop. It was a small house, probably three or four rooms large, with no fence and there was a dog just outside the porch, barking at them as they got off the Bentley. The Hellhound.

“What is Adam doing here?” Crowley said, clearly flustered. He did not get an answer, because the door opened and Adam stepped outside, a big smile on his face. After him, Gabriel and Beelzebub followed.

“Now this is just perfect. Like an Armageddon class reunion. Did you order pizza, too? What the fuck is happening?”

Muriel started talking, inviting Crowley inside with a hand placed lightly on his back “One year ago, I overheard something I shouldn’t have. It was a meeting about the second coming. Aziraphale was on Earth then, so no one knew I could hear it. They plan to kill Jesus again, only they will not leave it on the humans this time. They will make Adam do it, when the kid turns 6. This will risk a war between God Herself and Satan. While Adam is not Satan’s Son anymore, he still has powers that have not risen yet. We believe killing will activate them. The angels don’t know for sure what will happen to Adam and if it will make him evil, but they are pretty certain he will be powerful. More powerful than the ruler of Hell, his dad. He could destroy Earth, if manipulated right.” Muriel let out a long sigh, letting their shoulders drop, finally looking into Crowley’s eyes “Aziraphale has suspected they were up to no good for some time. He tried to change things in his first ever meeting about the Second Coming. It was also his last meeting with the angels. They don’t respect him anymore. He’s just a pawn. They keep him here so he doesn’t come back to Earth because they are afraid of what you..can do..together. He doesn’t know that, I didn’t get the chance to tell him today when everything escalated. I know you’ve been seeing Adam, as a friend. I’ve been seeing him too, warning him about what’s to come, protecting him. Two months ago I contacted Gabriel and Beelzebub, begging for their help. We put Adam in this safehouse two weeks ago. Today they found out. And they think Aziraphale is at fault. I have broken my halo before entering Heaven for the last time to leave some of Beelzebub’s flies there so we have a means to find out what’s happening in there. They can’t track me anymore and Aziraphale is taking all the blame. They tricked him into coming into one of their meetings just to catch him by surprise and attack him. We don’t know where he is now, the flies can’t find him anymore. I think they might be torturing him somewhere God would not look: in Hell.” Muriel stopped for a second, worry visible in their eyes. They tried to smile, pathetically: “I found his sword today, while trying to run out of Heaven. It was just there. Like it had always been there, in Aziraphale’s office. I think they planted it there so they could use it against him. Anyway, I took it. I don’t know if Heaven can track it or not, but I will not let it get lost again. It may be the only thing that’s strong enough to help us right now.”

“What, you wanna smite all the angels? Doesn’t seem like the best strategy-”

“This sword is the only thing in the universe who can summon God. When used by the one it was designed for. Aziraphale.”

“And what makes you think God will WANT to help in the first place?”

“We don’t know what will happen. But we have to try it.” Muriel stumbled over their words.

“Yeah, try and ask the Almighty to save us. It works wonders for kids with cancer. And war. And famine. What a great idea. Let’s put all our hopes in a God that DOESN’T CARE. This is fucking great” Crowley was started to smoke, when Beelzebub spoke for the first time since their encounter

“Hell is revolting. They dislike Shax. It won’t take long before there’s blood spilled there too. Gabriel said angels were starting to doubt each other even before Armageddon. We’ll try to give Hell a new leader, and Heaven will soonly fall into pieces as well.”

“New Leader? You’ll have to get rid of Satan for that. Impossible.”

“Not quite.” Muriel intervened: “There could be someone just as powerful as him, if not more powerful. Hell will gladly oblige anyone who’s stronger.”. They looked at Adam, steady but clearly uneasy.

“Didn’t you say he has to kill someone in order to come into his powers? Have you gone mad? We can’t make him a murderer. He’s a kid.”

Adam spoke then, bluntly: “I’m right here. And I hate everything about this war. It makes no sense. I want it all to stop and I want no one to get hurt ever again. I’m willing to sacrifice..anything, for that. It’s my destiny!”

“Err! Interesting speech. Answer’s still no. Try again next year.”

“He doesn’t have to kill someone for good. He can kill someone that will revive anyway.”

“Second Jesus.” Crowley realised. “But, that is exactly their plan! And what if the kid doesn’t-”

“Their plan is to kill the son of God and make it happen somewhere where both angels and demons will know about it. For it to be a statement, a casus belli.” Gabriel spoke, his gaze softer than what Crowley was accustomed with. Love. He’s in love. And he IS loved. That’s what it did to him. He seems happy, content. Even when we’re at war. Probably because they’re together. Bastard. Crowley’s head dropped, suddenly afraid of anyone being able to read his mind. He wanted his Angel here, safe. He wanted to rip Heaven and Hell apart to find him and take him somewhere safe. But he needed to play this safe. No risks.

“They want to kill him when he’s six because until then he doesn’t have any power. He’s still Her son, but with no powers until then.” Beelzebub continued.

“So no wakey-wakey for the second Jesus if Adam kills him when Heaven wants him to?” Crowley asked, his eyes mad. Brutes. Animals. No better than Hell in any way.

“Exactly.”

“And how do you plan to stop this?”

Muriel spoke then, loud and clear. “We need a miracle. We need to hide him. Beelzebub and Gabriel will be the ones doing it for the most part, but the day he turns six, all Heaven and Hell will come on Earth to search for the child. We need a stronger miracle. We need you. And Aziraphale. Heaven said there was never a greater miracle than the ones you used to hide Gabriel.There’s something weird about angels’ and demons' powers united. They’re scared of it. Scared of Anyone else finding out. I don’t know much, but I know they’re scared of you and Aziraphale. Have been scared for a long time. It’s our only chance.”

Just as they finished talking, a car appeared from the woods. He could see Anathema driving and Newton in the passenger seat. There was a child on the backseat. He was far away, but Crowley could feel the familiar warmth and peace surrounding him. It was Him. They kidnapped the Son of God.

Chapter Text

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream, I dreamed

A dull pain had woken him. Aziraphale loved sleeping, he has been using it for centuries as an escape, as an opportunity to dream. His first dreams have been of the better days, Creation and Eden, when everything was simple and there was light and peace all around him. Sooner rather than later, his dreams have started to make room for his deepest secret. It started with glimpses, fragments of a certain pair of beautiful, yellow eyes. He would hear his voice, or just feel him, never really acknowledging the truth. But he has always been there, in his dreams. Only hundreds of years later would he finally dare to dream about Crowley, alongside him, close to him, just like he would wish he’d be in his waking hours. Some dreams were peaceful: they would chat and look at eachother, savouring each other’s company. In some dreams Aziraphale would dare to touch his elbow or gently place a hand on his shoulder and he would ache for that touch for days after. There were dreams in which Crowley would come closer to him and grab him. Those were the hardest, leaving him wondering for days. In his dream, the touch between them was carefully replaced with memories of his past or present lovers. It was never enough, every new lover making him question more about how the demon would feel, how he would react: how his skin would burn under his. It never seemed to be enough and it was painful to dream about having what he could never keep. But this was the only way he could have it, even if it was for a mere second, even if it was a painful, pitiful mirage. So Aziraphale has slept every night for the most part of six thousand years.

The dream he has awoken from was nothing like the dreams he’s had. He miracled his corporation so he wouldn’t experience nightmares, soonly after having his first. The dream he had was all blood and smoke, crying and filth surrounding everything he loved: the bookshop, then earth, then a certain demon, who he left alone on Earth, foolishly thinking it was safer for him.

The pain slowly got him back to his senses and soon it was everywhere. It was agonising, so excruciating that it took him a moment to realise how dark it had been. Never before has he felt such darkness. He slowly took a chained hand to his face and felt a damp thick liquid resting on his cheeks, cold to the touch. He tried to open his eyes, but felt nothing. Because there was nothing. He slowly touched his fingernails to one of his eyebrows, every place burning to the touch, no matter how gentle. He lowered his fingers to where his eyes once were and it felt raw and throbbing with a sharp pain he’s never felt before. The tips of his fingers felt wet with what he assumed was clogged blood and he would have cried, but it seemed they had taken that away from him, too.

- I see you’re finally awake, Supreme Archangel, said Michael, mocking the last words. Let’s see, they said, and Aziraphale felt a sudden excruciating pain in his shoulder blades, right at the base of his wings. It felt like they dug a hole in his sensible flesh there, ripping apart parts of him, right where they knew it would be the most painful. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to fly again after this.

- Aaah! he cried. Michael. What is the meaning of all this?

- You seemed pretty confident a year ago, laughing at us, pretending to know what her plan could be. How does it feel, paying for your sins? I’ll leave the rest of you intact, if you tell me where the demon Crowley might be right now and what his plans could be!

- A year ago? I’ve slept for an entire year?

- Don’t be stupid. I think you don’t remember because of the pain. We’ve been seeing each other daily. I mean, I have seen you daily. You haven’t seen me in a while, unfortunately. Should you have cooperated, you would have at least one eye remaining. Unfortunately, it was not the case, so we had to make sure it was permanent. Your body cannot heal wounds inflicted by hellish fire, so don't bother trying to heal. Although, you still have a chance. Tell us where the demon is and help us kill him and we will let you fall. No more torture, aside from what you already have planned down there. Who knows? Maybe in another six thousand years, you won’t feel any more pain. But let’s not get excited. I’ve been waiting for you for a while to wake up now, so don’t waste any more of my time. Crowley. Where is he? Who is he with?

- What makes you think I know his whereabouts after being trapped.. here, wherever it may be, for a year? The last time I spoke to him was when I first came back to Heaven. I do not know anything about him or his plans and even if I would, I would never tell you anything that would put him in danger!

- Is that so? Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale.. Stupid, devoted little thing. A year has passed and the demon has not once come looking for you and yet you still choose to suffer for his safety.. I guess She really does make mistakes at times! Michael finished with a chocked laugh, the sound of it echoing through the cold room, making Aziraphale shiver. Now let’s see those wings! they said, blankly, then everything was dark and painful again, and it felt like it would never end. Finally, he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

"Ok, ready! Do your thing! Make sure to do it right, I wouldn’t want to end up erased from The Book Of Life. Got stuff to do, things to see, you know?" Crowley said, staying before Gabriel and Beelzebub, who looked at him with worry.

"We’re still not sure about how efficient this will be" Gabriel said, while gently taking the demon’s hand.

"And I do not care. We’ve had a whole year to test this. I can’t afford him to feel pain any longer. You promised if I waited a year, you would help. Or try to. So do it, now! Make me an angel!"

The miracle seemed like nothing they’ve tried before, as they couldn’t afford to test it on such a bigger scale until now. But it was already too late and time was running out. Jesus, or Matthew, his earthly given name, was turning six in a week. Adam would have to kill him in a week if they didn’t find a more reliable solution. The world would end if he turned six and anyone found him. So playing safe was put to a stop and Crowley, Gabriel and Beelzebub stood in the bookshop, far away from the safehouse, waiting to see if Crowley was properly disguised as an angel.
He has been to Heaven as a demon dressed as an angel before, but the security was on higher alert now. He needed to BE an angel, for a while at least, until he found Aziraphale. And he needed to pass through all the possible suspicions in order not to fail in rescuing him.

"Well? How do I look?"
Beelzebub replied, softly, her gaze serious: “Different. You don’t look at all like.. You..”

"Perfect. Gotta get going. Bye, then!"

"Crowley! Be safe. If it’s not possible to save him, it’s better-" Gabriel started.

"We will both come back, or none of us will. I’m not letting him there for a second more, and I surely am not coming back without him. See you!"

It was cold. Everything seemed to be empty, lonely. “Worse than Hell” he thought. As he strolled through the corridors, he realised they were unusually empty. They were probably planning something. Smaller chances to be detected like that, even smaller chances of finding anyone who would help locate Aziraphale.

He found his office, after a while, it was empty, except for a small golden fob watch, carefully placed on his desk. The watch was a gift from Crowley from a long time ago. That gift was to come with a confession that was never spoken. Crowley was too scared to say it, fearing the angel’s reaction. Instead, he insisted on giving him the watch as a promise of their arrangement. The angel wore it everyday since. It made him ache, seeing the object of his ruined confession everyday, kept close to Aziraphale’s body, closer than he’d ever be, because of his cowardice.

While picking it up and placing it in one of his coat’s pockets, he heard a muffled noise somewhere in the distance. He left the office, and followed the sound. The door to which he got read “Purgatory”. He’s never been here in his time as an angel, but he’s heard his share of stories about the place. A prison for angels so bad they need punishment bigger than the Fall. A torture chamber. This was where they held Aziraphale. The screams stopped, and he heard footsteps. He quickly ducked before a pillar and saw Michael leaving the room, their ivory suit stained with fresh blood. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, considering all he wanted was to run through that door and see him, save him. When he could no longer see Michael or any other angels around, he opened the door, gently closing it behind him. And then he ran.

If he wasn’t miracled just before, Crowley was sure his corporation would have surrendered. It was all a frenzy of blood and tears and muted screams, then he was in the elevator, with his eyes closed, holding a body he no longer recognized but knew too well, chains still attached to his arms and legs, pulled directly from the ceiling and floor. It was all spinning while he was driving the Bentley, praying, hoping, crying and cursing at the whole universe.

He arrived at the safehouse without realising where he was, and soon everyone was out, looking at them, a tragic jointure of darkness and pain, everything once pure about their love now turned into blood, torture and death. Then, finally being able to, he screamed. He didn’t know when Aziraphale was taken away from his arms and brought inside, or when he himself was carried inside, falling on his knees. He could see Gabriel and Beelzebub standing before him, then Adam and Muriel. He could see their mouths moving but he didn’t hear anything, only his own screams, only his heart throbbing in his chest, full of a pain so unimaginable, he wanted to sleep and never wake up again.

"Please, Crowley! Crowley! CROWLEY!" He heard, then felt a pair of hands shaking his shoulders. It was Muriel, now kneeling before him, growing.

He looked in the direction of the sofa the angel was put on. It looked like a deathbed. He was still, covered in blood and not breathing. The world was spinning again.

"He’s not dead! He needs you, you can’t give up now, you have to put yourself together! For him. Please, Crowley!"

"He’s.. surely not alive." The demon responded. "They.. How could they do this to him?"

"He is.. His corporation has reached his limit, but we tried to miracle it so that he doesn’t discorporate. Now all we need is for him to wake up. He needs an anchor. He needs you. Please, bring him back. I know this hurts, but you have to. You’re the only one who can."

"Erm.." Crowley said, but couldn’t finish, before Muriel stood up, looking at him with a much softer, caring gaze.

"We’ll leave you two alone. I trust you, Crowley. Bring Aziraphale back!"

Everyone left, quietly, as if to not disturb the body. The room was now empty, aside from him and the body that was once his best friend, his most dear friend in the whole world.

He took three careful steps and stood next to the sofa, dropping to a crouch before his angel. He would have never imagined he’d ever see something like this. He was stripped of his usual clothes, and put in an (once white) robe, now full of dried blood. His curls were wet with sweat and his usual fluffy, sweet smell was replaced by a coppery trail. His hands and arms were all bruised and scarred and his neck was cut. He’d grown a beard, grey and uneven because of the wounds now conquering his beautiful face. The worst part was his eyes. They were ripped off, replaced by wounds so grotesque, an eternity in hell could not have prepared Crowley for it.

Tears were running down his face as he hovered his hand over Aziraphale’s arm, very careful at the touch, scared of hurting him. He stood like that for a while, crying, touching the angel in the places he had the least wounds. He thought about the many times he dreamed about touching the angel, how he fantasised about running his hands all over him and how he would give anything to take away everything, to feel his pain himself, to make it all go away, to go back to when they were just an angel and a demon, in love, carefully dancing an eternal dance like no one was watching.

"I love you!" He whispered, soft like a secret for his ears only. Then he got closer to the sofa, touching both of his arms with his hands, not daring to touch any other part, in fear of hurting him.
"I love you, angel! Always did. Always will. Though I’m not sure I will BE for any longer if you don’t wake up."

"I love you and I never told you that I love you and now it’s too late. I’m sorry. I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw how you looked at me when I showed you the stars. I loved you with every second I spent in your presence, trying not to blush whenever our bodies accidentally touched. I never loved anyone, never thought it possible for a demon. But I love you. There were so many times in which I wanted to tell you. But one of them I remember better than the rest. Because it was the first time in which I dared to hope that you might love me back. That you COULD love me back."

He slowly drew the fob watch out of his pocket, placing it near Aziraphale’s body.

"I planned on telling you and giving you this watch for about three hundred years, until I finally gave it to you. I used to have it on me every time we met. Once, we both got drunk in the bookshop. I told you I needed to say something important to you. You were suddenly looking at me, waiting. And I panicked. I knew you couldn’t love me and I knew that, even if you could, I didn’t deserve you. So I gave you the watch and ran away and came back a decade later. I should have told you then, I should have kidnapped you and taken you to somewhere safe. I tried to, when you left for Heaven. I was so scared, so desperate. I was so frightened of losing you. I never thought I would lose you like this. I should have protected you, I should have stopped you. It’s all my fault. I love you, Aziraphale!"

"C-Crowley?" Aziraphale’s voice was weak, small and full of pain and nothing felt real anymore.

"Angel!" Crowley said, tears running down his face.

"Is this real? Another dream? But.. It hurts."

"It’s real, I’m here" the demon said, gently grabbing his hand. "I’m never leaving!"

Aziraphale grunted in pain, but the corners of his mouth turned up a bit, in a weakened smile.
"Thank you!" Then a pause, and his smile faded. "I-I cannot heal. They’ve used hell fire. I’m probably hideous to look at. I understand it if you don’t want to-"

"I love you!" Crowley tightened his grip, rising until his face was hovering over the angel’s and gently pressed his lips on his. It was a delicate spiral of fear and pain, holding a promise, a silent oath that meant forever. It was agonizing and liberating and after a few seconds Crowley felt his body go limp and heard a thud as he hit the hardwood floor.

Chapter Text

It was another day of Aziraphale sleeping that felt like an eternity for Crowley.
He was outside, looking at the stars, almost praying to a God he knew wanted nothing to do with him, when Muriel approached him and softly said: "He is ready. We should prepare for the summoning. We don't have much time left. "

Crowley nodded and slowly walked back inside the house, where the angel sat on the couch. Gabriel was beside him and was carrying his sword. He gently approached them, carefully touching the angel and saying:

"We can definitely do this another time, there are 5 days left, if you want to recover-"

"No, we are doing this now". Aziraphale had his head facing the ground, hiding his empty eye sockets. When was Crowley going to see his beautiful gold eyes again? Will he ever forget their kindness?

Gabriel handed the sword to him, carefully guiding his hand so he knew how to properly hold it, then the angel used it to get on his feet. He took a deep breath and powerfully shoved it in the wooden floor of the safehouse. Then, only chaos. Something worse than hell or Creation itself, when nothing had a name, a place, everything was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, lights flickering and everything falling into an indescribable spiral of concepts that flew everywhere. Darkness quickly followed and Crowley opened his eyes to his own surprise to find himself in the Garden, right where it all began and where it will all end.

God stood besides them, looking just as serious and untouchable as Crowley remembered, more concept than real, surrounded by a shield of light that was hard to look at with his demon eyes.

"Muriel. Gabriel. Beelzebub. Adam. Matthew. Crowley. And, Aziraphale. My angel, what have they done to you? Why have you summoned me?"

"Hello, dear Mother." Aziraphale spoke, so small and quiet Crowley could barely hear. Then he raised his voice and started to explain everything

"I understand. Those angels have been worse than demons, going behind my back, trying to bring chaos into my dear world. They shall be judged and erased from the Book. Adam and Matthew will forget these ever happened and continue to be what they ought to be, children. Thank you, child! You're free to go."

"Wait! Please!" Crowley shouted without even thinking twice about it. "How about him? Look what they did to him? He cannot heal, you can fix him, why don't you?"

Everyone turned to him, apart from Aziraphale, who quickly said 'It's okay, Crowley, Mother. I just want this war to stop. I want peace. I am tired."

"No. You are not okay. You are an angel. You have been abused by other angels. You should not live like this because of it. Please, fix him". His eyes watering, Crowley was now on his knees. "I will do everything. Just help him. Make him forget all the hurt, all the torture. He does not deserve it. He never deserved any of it and YOU know it. Why won't you do something?"

As soon as he finished his sentence, everyone but him and God disappeared. He was not scared, he was angry. Angry at Her, angry at the angels, angry at himself for ever being at fault for Aziraphale's torture.

"My child. You always were a rebellious one. One of my favorites, if you promise not to tell the others. I will not undo this, I'm sorry. This is part of the plan."

"Oh, fuck your plan, I've had enough of it. You know what? I've had enough of you! You are selfish, you are never there for anything that's relevant or important. You are feeding everyone's delusions about a gentle and caring God only to never show up when you are needed. You made me Fall for a simple question, when I was just doing my job. You will let him live in pain the rest of eternity because that's your bullshit "plan". No! I've had enough of you! I hate you! And I'm not scared of your little all-powerful act anymore. Feel free to erase me or torture me, do whatever you please. Maybe pain is actually what you feed on, common, feed on mine! Do it!"

"I would never feed on anyone's pain. Certainly not yours. I love you and Aziraphale both, Crowley! You are indeed quite a pair. Let's see how you will do on your own. I will let you be an angel again, or stay a demon, your choosing. I will heal Aziraphale and put him in charge of Heaven, make him forget all the torture and hurt, heal his heart so he doesn't even know how pain felt like, what do you say? Would that restore your faith? Do you think you can learn to be his friend again? Do you think you can be by his side?"

"Erm. You'd do all these? Why?"

"Because you will prove me, then, that what you feel for Aziraphale is more powerful than anything in this world of mine, and then I will leave you two be. You will be free to choose your own destiny. Until then, you will have to make him believe in you. Will you do that? Can you do that? Do you trust him this much?"

"Yes. I trust him. I would trust him with the whole universe if I needed to."

"What if he won't remember you at all? What if you wouldn't remember him? What if you two were strangers from now on? Never knowing what was and what could be, you will have to prove me you will find each other again, and love each other enough to remember everything. If your connection were to be as true as you state now, a kiss is all it would take for you both to remember everything. But will that kiss ever happen if you forgot the other existed?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, Crowley. Before you two, I did not believe I could make another soul so pure that they will love just the way I do, limitless, unconditional love. And then Aziraphale showed you the sword, and you showed him the stars. And I knew what my plan would be, right then and there. I had to know if this love is the everlasting love I had hoped about, or if it was just a beautiful illusion that I believed in because I wanted to. This is the final step of my plan, and I wish to see if all those years I was right about you, or if the universe I have so dearly taken care of never really had a chance at the kind of love I wanted for it. I know angels and human love me, some with half measures, some with everything that they have. That is because they have never been my equal. That is also because of the fear they sometime have for me, a fear that makes everything feel useless. So I figured long ago, love can only be true and itself between equals. And the two of you, in every unfortunate circumstance, you were always equals in each other's eyes. You loved the other because of who they truly were, not because of gratitude, or fear. You loved the other because it was natural. The most unnatural of sights, an angel and a demon, dancing through the course of 6000 years, longing, forever wanting more but never trying anything because it didn't feel right to harm the other in any way. I want to see if your love was truly what I wished for, and if so, I want to show it to the world. I want you two to rule the world, to teach everyone how to love."

After what felt like a whole minute of silence, Crowley's voice was small and scared. "What if we never meet again? What if we hate each other?"

"Then, it means the plan failed. It means I failed at being your Creator. It means this universe will never know love as it should be. It means that is its fate."

"I want to see him, one last time. Can I?"

"Yes, but when you touch, it will begin. Remember that. And do it by midnight. I have waited a long time, Crowley. I am wishing you all the best. What do you wish to be? Do you want me to change you back into an angel, dear?"

"Nrgh, demon is fine. I wish to not forget who I am. Just him."

"Of course, you will be the same, both of you."

"Thank you. Err, one more question."

"Anything, Crowley."

"Was.. the Plan, the reason I fell? Or did I really, I don't know, do something worthy of the Fall?"

"No, child. Demons are still angels and angels can sometimes be demons, as you've seen. I needed you, separated. I needed to see what distance would do to you, if it will make you scared, or hateful of the other. Unlike your brothers, you fell for the Plan and the Plan only. You fell for Aziraphale."

"Aight. That's all. Let me see him. Ah, and.. Thanks! I-I've been waiting to hear this answer for a while now. You never showed up, first hundreds of years in Hell, so I thought you forgot about me. Thank you!"

"I always did and always will love you, child. My dear Crowley!"

He felt an immense warmth, closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in the bookshop. Aziraphale was on the chair, his eyes healed. He looked at him, mouth opened: "Crowley! You're back! Are you-okay?". He stood up and began walking towards him, until Crowley screamed: "No! Stay there! Please! We need to talk. Don't come near me!"

He looked at the clock. They had two more hours. After this, he may never see his angel again. He wanted to make the most of this.