Chapter Text
Crowley has never experienced time this slowly before in all of his existence. These past five years have felt like five centuries, moving by ever so slowly. Crowley has had almost nothing to do other than talk to Muriel, and sometimes Maggie and Nina, Crowley is closer to the three more than he would like to admit to himself. It’s been hard for Crowley to even leave his flat, the plants that once missed him are now severely sick of Crowley sitting around doing absolutely nothing.
Nina and Maggie come around to his flat together sometimes, but sometimes it’s just one of them, but always at least once a week Crowley is being checked in on. No matter how many times Crowley tells them to not bother with checking on him, they keep stopping by. Deep down Crowley truly appreciates it, without them he probably would be in a permanent cocoon until Armageddon is attempted again. Crowley walks around his flat slowly, holding the spray bottle, he barely had the energy in him to even yell at his plants anymore.
Crowley was miserable without Aziraphale. That he will admit. Why would he want to go back to Heaven? That place that tried to kill him. The place who doesn’t even care about him? Crowley cares about Aziraphale, Micheal, Uriel, and Saraquel could never comprehend even how to care for Aziraphale as Crowley does. But of course, Aziraphale chose them over Crowley in the end and there was nothing he could do about it now. Crowley honestly did try to win Aziraphale back, and for a long time, the first year that Aziraphale was in Heaven, he was scheming up a plan to get into Heaven and win him back. For a while, Crowley thought there was something he could do. Crowley gave up after a year of hearing nothing from Aziraphale.
Crowley was doing everything he could think of to get Aziraphale's attention. Walking through churches, though part of that was just a failed attempt at an adrenaline rush, Crowley even almost sold a book once but ended up not being able to bring himself to sell one of Aziraphale's books. No matter how hurt he may be, that was a line Crowley knew he would never cross. A more... gentle approach that Crowley took was growing his hair out, knowing that Aziraphale loved when his hair was long, didn't matter if it was at his shoulders or down to his waist, it was a feature Crowley was always praised for. There has been the temptation to chop it all off again, but a certain part of himself can't go and grab the scissors or perform the miracle to do so.
Crowley knows that Aziraphale hasn't been watching him these past 5 years, there is a presence a demon or angel can feel when another is watching them from Heaven, perhaps even Hell sometimes, though demons and angels, as much as they hate each other, don't often actually spy on one another. But the presence just simply... was never there. Crowley tried to convince himself that maybe Aziraphale just didn't know where Crowley was, but it is not like he had never been to Crowley's flat before he left. and for a long time, he was staying at the bookshop with Muriel, but after a year or two, it just all became too much and Crowley just left and he told Muriel to go explore the world, or just the shops. Muriel chose to just explore the shops before coming back to the shop, when they came back, Crowley was nowhere to be seen and the bookshop looked exactly like it did the day Aziraphale left for heaven. Eventually, a certain type of guilt crept up on Crowley and he went back to the bookshop to invite Muriel to lunch at some random spot he couldn't remember and apologized. Muriel accepted it quicker than a human could blink.
So no, Crowley was never alone these past five years, though to him it felt like he was. Queen softly played from his record player, Crowley humming along in an attempt to block out his constant thoughts of a particular angel, half-empty bottle of liquor in hand, a pretty typical evening, or at least it should have been. This evening, as Crowley sat on his couch surrounded by empty bottles and semi-dying plants, for the first time in five years, felt the presence of another non-human. An angel, but not just any angel, Aziraphale.