Chapter Text
*snap*
And suddenly Aziraphale was back in his bookshop.
The first thing the angel did, aside from looking wildly around to gather his surroundings, was checkthe watch on his wrist to discern the day and time.
"Ah, so only a few hours have passed since..." Aziraphale murmured to himself.
The second thing he did was race to his phone and dial Crowley's number. Of course, it just went to voicemail, but it had changed from his typical personalised voicemail, it was set as the default "leave your message after the beep".
Aziraphale did not, however, leave a message after the beep. If Crowley was truly a human and had lost all memory of Aziraphale, well... Well, it would be best to explain that in person.
He supposed that would be his plan then, but fretted for a moment. Should he explain to his friend of his past and daresay try to get his memory back? Or would it be best for this new Crowley to live the rest of his short human life in blissful ignorance.
The angel dabbed his pocket hankey at his brow that was beginning to develop sweat.
"Just... just go to his flat, Aziraphale," he said to himself -voice trembling ever so slightly- "and you can... play it by ear! Or "wing it" as Crowley would say- oh, oh dear".
At the mention of Crowley's name, a trickle of tears fell down the angel's cheeks before falling at a faster pace.
New plan, thought Aziraphale, compose yourself first and then go to... his flat.
And so the angel did just that. After what seemed a small eternity of just crying and crying, he put a sign on his door that read "Closed indefinitely" and made his way to Crowley's flat.
When he got there, it was strange. It felt so eerily normal, and even the Bentley was there sitting outside, waiting for its owner.
Aziraphale couldn't feel the presence of his demon but then again, Crowley was no longer a demon, he was now his human. Er, or what Aziraphale meant to think was A human.
Still, Aziraphale walked timidly up to the door and knocked. And waited. And knocked again.
It took a long while of waiting for Aziraphale to realise the obvious; Crowley probably wouldn't be living here anymore. I mean, if you erased someone's memories you probably wouldn't want them to be surrounded by artifacts and souvenirs of their time on Earth.
Plus, it would have been too easy and Heaven forbid that. Literally.
With that epiphany, Aziraphale tried to miracle the door unlocked and then open it, but it didn't open. So he tried again. Still, the door remained locked.
Perhaps... perhaps Crowley put a spell on it so ot can't be miracled open? Aziraphale thought to himself, but didn't believe. Miracles are miracles. It would be impossible to do that, even theoretically.
So he tried to miracle up something small, like a daisy in his front garden, but nothing.
So he tried even smaller, a particle of dust that would have been visible in the sunlight.
Nothing.
Aziraphale had lost his ability to do miracles.
Luckily, he did have a key for Crowley's home -he didn't think he'd ever have to use it, but it was a meaningful gesture from Crowley and Aziraphale kept hold of it for sentimental purposes.
However, that didn't change the fact that Aziraphale couldn't do miracles. That very much sucked and he was very bummed out about it.
That wasn't the issue at hand though, so Aziraphale put it aside and decided he would worry about that later and stepped inside Crowley's flat.
He almost hoped that Crowley would be there waiting for him, but of course that was not the case. Instead, he was greeted with all the things that reminded him of Crowley - all his stuff was still there (including the stolen mona lisa painting) and even his demonic scent lingered.
The angel sighed as he flopped onto a couch in the living room and grabbed a cushion that smelt strongly of his dear friend.
For a while he just lay there and sobbed, holding the pillow tightly and wishing it could have been his demon in his arms instead.
Eventually his sobs grew far and few in between, and the tears on his face dried up.
He decided then it would be best if he stayed here for now and look after Crowley's old flat...for logical reasons and definitely not because he wanted to be at least surrounded by the essence of Crowley if unable to have his company.
"Anyway, someone needs to look after his plants", Aziraphale said softly to himself. "...Just until he comes back."