Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fingers running through red strands of hair.

Eyes of gold sparkling with mirth. 

A voice full of warmth and love. 

"Aziraphale?"

He knows those eyes, that voice.

"Aziraphale? Wake up." 

But who is it? Why does he know this person? 

Where are they?

"Come now, angel...Time to rise and shine."

Just a moment more...He just needed more time. 

"Aziraphale!"

Aziraphale's eyes slowly opened, and his gaze met a familiar pair of golden eyes. 

"Oh!"

He blinked, and the golden irises were gone, replaced by Crowley's yellow snake-like stare. 

"Doing alright, angel?" Crowley asked, brow furrowed with concern. "Not like you to take naps in the middle of the day―or at all, actually." 

"Crowley?” He questioned as he rubbed the strange dream from his eyes.”What are you doing here?"

Crowley's gaze flitted across his face, squinting suspiciously before he lowered his sunglasses back over his eyes. 

"We had plans for lunch, remember?"

"Plans for...Oh! Oh dear!" Aziraphale exclaimed, straightening up in his chair. "I am terribly sorry! I'll be ready in a moment! Let me just–"

An offered hand caused the words to die in his throat as he glanced up toward Crowley's face in surprise. 

“Aziraphale?”

That voice again…

"Angel?"

He shook off the unsettling feeling creeping up his spine, refocusing on the hand before him. 

"My apologies. What did you say, dear boy?"

"I said it wasn't going to bite you. My hand." 

"Oh, of course not! What a thought!" 

"Then why were you staring at it like it would?" 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply but found himself unable to provide an answer.

What was wrong with him?

"I'm...so sorry. I'm afraid I'm not quite myself today."

Crowley's mouth pulled down slightly at the corners–just momentarily–before it was righted again, and he slowly lowered his hand. 

"Feeling alright?"

"I feel fine, thank you," Aziraphale said, growing more irritated at his inability to think clearly and running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, don't go biting my head off." Crowley snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Pardon me for showing a bit of concern for my best friend ."

Aziraphale's shoulders slumped as the guilt washed over him. Crowley was only trying to help, and here he was being hostile towards him. 

"Crowley, I…Forgive me. I am certainly not upset with you.”

Crowley studied him for some time before deflating, dropping his arms back to his sides, the prickliness in his stance forgotten. 

He laid his hand on the angel’s shoulder gently before speaking softly, genuine concern dominating his face. "What's going on, angel? What's got you all...like this?"

Aziraphale sighed heavily, shaking his head, unable to keep Crowley’s gaze. 

"I'm afraid I don't know. That's the problem."

Aziraphale had gone a long time in Heaven feeling like something was missing. He wasn’t sure what that something could be, as he had everything he could possibly need, yet there were times when he was alone–staring up at the shining stars during the otherwise unlit night, that he felt a hollowness in his chest that he simply couldn’t explain. 

Most other angels didn't seem to have this kind of problem, this emptiness, finding fulfillment with the little tasks they'd been assigned to prepare for the start of God's Plan on Earth. He imagined he could see a flash of sorrow in the company of some of the Others in those moments of quiet, the stillness of not actively completing a task seeming to bring out that same hollowness he felt–but as soon as he would notice it, like a flash it would already be gone, said angel continuing whatever task they had initially been working towards. 

Aziraphale had his tasks, of course. He was more than happy to do his part, whatever it was, for Her Plan. Still, when the tasks were complete, he didn't feel that same satisfaction of fulfilling Her work as the other angels, the hollowness in his chest like an ever-present and gaping maw, threatening to swallow him whole if he didn't keep busy.

When Gabriel had come to him and announced that he, of all angels, had been chosen to guard the Eastern Gate of the Garden, then handed him a great flaming sword on top of that, he had been stunned.

It wasn't that he hadn't considered it an honor to be chosen by God Herself, but he had thought it instead...odd. Aziraphale indeed wouldn't have chosen himself to guard Her most incredible creation.

Though, who was he to question Her Word?

He spent six days in the Garden, watching over the humans, observing the wildlife, and admiring the different plants. It was nice, peaceful, almost relaxing even to be away from Heaven. 

He never wanted to leave.

On the seventh day, it all came crumbling down.

Adam and Eve had eaten the fruit; they'd made their choice and as a last-moment effort to help them before they left the Garden–and therefore his care–he had taken the sword given to him and given it to the humans instead.

Aziraphale was hardly a fighter; they needed it far more than he did. 

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'Well, that went down like a lead balloon.'"

When Aziraphale met the Serpent of Eden on the walls of the Garden, his first thought should have been something along the lines of:

"Oh no, a demon!" or "What in Heaven's name is a lead balloon?"

But Aziraphale's first thought was neither of those things. Actually, his first thought wasn't really anything, for he was too busy trying to decipher precisely what he was feeling. 

With one look at the demon, Aziraphale felt something click into place, a feeling washing over him that he had never felt before and couldn't quite put a name to.

Thereyouare… 

He shouldn't feel anything click into place when looking at a demon. Above all, he shouldn't even be communicating with the demon, for they were only evil and had no more significant wish than to foil God's Plan!

But... this demon...well, he didn't seem to be as Gabriel had described.

The demon had the eyes of a snake: giant, golden, and incredibly observant. Long locks of red hair framed his face like a wreath of flames, and that smile…well, he was beautiful. 

"I'm sorry...ah…"

"Crawly."

"Crawly! "

The name...didn't seem right, almost unfitting for the demon. It's definitely not what he would have guessed because, honestly, he felt like there was a name in the back of his mind that he wanted to call him, he just couldn't quite figure out what it was. 

"What if I did the wrong thing?"

"Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing."

Crawly spoke to him like one would talk to a good friend, like someone he'd known for a very long time. Strangely enough, Aziraphale was sure they had never met before. 

Yet, when it began to rain for the first time in all of Creation, Aziraphale automatically lifted a wing to hold it over the demon's head, sheltering him from the storm as they watched Adam and Eve disappear over the horizon. 

Having Crawly close to him... felt so right, like it was where he was always supposed to be.

Maybe demons weren't as bad as Gabriel had told him. 

"Thanks, angel."

"You're quite welcome, Crawly."

It wasn't long after Aziraphale met the demon Crawly that he began having odd dreams. 

Well, maybe not dreams precisely because to dream, you needed to sleep, and Aziraphale believed that sleep was a very trivial thing for an immortal being who didn't need it. 

Aziraphale was not having dreams but visions or maybe even hallucinations, and they usually triggered whenever he met up with Crawly.

Sometimes, he blamed it on a trick of the light. Occasionally, Crawly's yellow snake-like eyes would appear to be the color of molten gold, and his ever-changing hair would appear long, full of curls, like it had been when they'd first met in the Garden.

In the blink of an eye, Crawly would return to his usual self, and Aziraphale would be caught staring at the demon in utter astonishment.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm? Like what?"

"Like that. Have I got something on my face?"

"Oh, no. No, dear. Of course not."

However, as time went on, Aziraphale found that it wasn't just the eyes or the hair, but the smile.

At times, Crawly's smile made him go weak in the knees, his heart swooping in his chest as if it were falling through the skies and resurfacing through the clouds.

Aziraphale's love of the stars hadn't changed since he came to Earth. He still tried to spend time every night, no matter where he happened to be or what he was doing, to say hello to the stars and observe their beauty.

Some nights, while resting his eyes from a few hours of reading, even after admiring the night sky that evening, he would still see visions of the stars twinkling, calling out to him, beckoning him back outside as if trying to tell him something in a language he just couldn't seem to decipher.

Regardless, he would always answer their call, sometimes sitting outside for hours as he studied the familiar lights, trying to figure out what they were trying to tell him.

This particular night, he had decided to set up a small blanket on the roof of his shop, basking in the warm summer air. Quite miraculously, there had been quite a power outage affecting the entirety of central London for the night, allowing for a most spectacular view of the night sky.

"A stargazer, are we, angel?" 

If the angel hadn't recognized the voice, he might have been more alarmed, but the sound of Crowley's voice brought a smile to his lips rather than a grimace these days.

Ever since they'd created the Arrangement, Aziraphale and Crowley had become something more of friends rather than just acquaintances. They would meet up at their assignments, share some banter, and usually go somewhere to share a meal or even a drink–or several. 

And if he was being honest with himself, Aziraphale rather enjoyed having him around.

"As a matter of fact, I am. Would you like to join me?" 

Crowley said nothing for some time, the silence deafening as Aziraphale glanced at him from the corner of his eye, where he was surprised to notice the demon just staring at him intently.

Crowley must have seen his glance as he suddenly looked sheepish, lanky arm bending behind his head to rub nervously at his nape.

"Um. Yeah. Sure, of course."

Crowley joined him on the plush blanket, sitting himself against the lip of the roof and tilting his face up towards Heaven, taking in the twinkling lights above.

Aziraphale looked up at the stars as well. He could never help but cherish them; there were so many, each unique and glittering against the night sky, individuality still apparent in their uniformity.

He had always been drawn to them, even in Heaven. At times, though, looking up at them caused his heart to ache terribly in his chest. 

He never truly understood why.

"I know it may sound odd, but I've always been quite taken with the stars."

"Have you now?"

"Oh, yes. Even in Heaven, I was always enchanted…I would often just stare at them, sometimes even for the whole night." 

Crowley hummed noncommittally, still staring upwards. 

"I've always been fond of them myself, you know. Since they were made."

Aziraphale blinked, then turned his head to look at Crowley in surprise. Crowley’s lips were curled up at the corner, an expression of fondness painting his features, even through his glasses. 

"Since they were...You remember when they were made?"

"Of course, angel. They were created before I Fell, after all." 

Aziraphale's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Not because he had forgotten Crowley had once been an angel but because he didn't even remember when the stars were made. He was sure he'd been there–he must have been, but he simply couldn't remember. A lot of details were, unfortunately, somewhat fuzzy when it came to life before Creation. 

"Oh–Of course." 

It was an odd thought, thinking that maybe he'd known Crowley before he'd become Crowley, but he thought it'd likely be rude to ask a Fallen Angel who they'd been before the Fall. 

"Do you...Do you remember who created them? The stars?"

It was Crowley's turn to look surprised; eyebrows raised high above his sunglasses, mouth open slightly in mild disbelief. 

"You don't?" 

"W-Well! Gabriel played a part in it, but it can't have just been him, right?” Aziraphale asked in a rush. “Gabriel is mighty, but I'm afraid I never pictured him as someone able to create something as lovely as the stars."

Crowley continued to stare at him, his expression now unreadable, and Aziraphale forced himself to look away from the demon and back toward the sky.

He'd never been able to hide how he was genuinely feeling from Crowley, and that had always unsettled him. 

"You really don't remember, do you?" 

Before he could register the soft tone of Crowley's voice, the concern and sympathy, the hairs on the back of Aziraphale's neck began to rise as he heard a whisper of a voice just off to his other side.

“Aren't they beautiful?”

Aziraphale jumped violently, looking around in alarm. No one was nearby, the door to the stairwell was firmly locked, and all of the humans had withdrawn to their homes for the night.

Where had that voice come from?

"Something wrong, angel?"

"No, it's nothing...I mean, well, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" 

Crowley dragged his eyes from the skies, glancing around them. 

"That voice. You didn't hear it?"

"I don't hear anything but the wind."

"I hung every star in the sky just for you, darling."

"That! Who…is that?"

It was unsettling, not only because he was now hearing voices...but because he felt like he knew the one talking to him.

It was a voice he felt like he'd always known.

"Angel, I swear, I don't hear anything."

"Aziraphale…?"

The Angel's eyes widened, his voice caught in his throat around a name that his mind refused to summon from the dredges of his subconscious; his soul cried out in longing, desperate to find the source. 

 A dull ache began to permeate his head, throbbing with every beat of his now-pounding heart.

IknowyouImissyouWhereareyou

"I know this voice…"

He was silently reeling over this discovery when he felt Crowley's hand on his arm, dragging him back to reality and distressingly chasing the voice away.

The demon was studying him intensely from behind his sunglasses, gripping his arm tightly. His lips were twisted into a frown, concern littering his features.

"Those blessed Archangels," Crowley said with more than a hint of dry sarcasm. "must be overworking you if you're hearing voices, Aziraphale. Let's head inside. 

His tone was overall teasing and lighthearted, yet Aziraphale could tell that Crowley felt unsettled about him hearing voices.

Unless they were hearing from The Almighty, Angels simply didn't hear voices. 

“Oh, honestly, I am not going mad, Crowley! I can hear–”

Crowley gave his arm a slight tug, leaving no room for argument; Aziraphale sighed in defeat.

Maybe...Maybe he was just being overworked.

"Yes, alright...You're probably right, my dear."

Crowley got up to his feet, holding out his hand for the angel. 

"Come on then, angel."

Aziraphale took the offered hand and allowed Crowley to pull him to his feet; their touch lingered for only a moment before the demon withdrew to gather the blanket they'd been sitting on.

Together, they made their way towards the stairwell, the voice now conspicuously silent, but Aziraphale still couldn't help but wonder:

Who could he have known that had hung the stars? 

"Crowley, do you recall life before you Fell?"

Crowley groaned, taking a long drink from his glass. 

"Not this again. Yes, angel, I remember the Fall."

It wasn't the first time Aziraphale had asked Crowley about the Fall, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Aziraphale asked because he remembered nothing of the day that the angels Fell, only what he'd been told, and the only one who would say anything to him would be Crowley. 

After the incident on the roof the previous week, the voice continued to be heard in Aziraphale’s head, usually waxing poetics about the stars or whispering loving nothings throughout the day. 

It wasn’t so unnerving as it was bothersome; obviously, whoever this voice belonged to was someone Aziraphale had known at some point, rather intimately, it seemed, but Aziraphale had never really been emotionally close to anyone.

Well, except for Crowley, of course, but he was a demon, so that couldn't count, could it? The voice must have belonged to a fellow angel undoubtedly, and a powerful one at that, if they were responsible for creating the entirety of the stars.

" Listen, my dear boy," he tsked, "I know you remember the Fall. I asked whether you remembered life in Heaven before the Fall."

Crowley wrinkled his nose the way he did when he was drunk, and thinking was complex, but he wanted to answer Aziraphale's thoughts accurately. 

"A bit here and there. Been a long time."

"Do you remember what it was like?"

“Why are you so curious? I mean, you were there. A lot longer than me, might I add?”

"It's an innocent question, Crowley. You know my memory gets quite spotty when thinking back to times before the Fall."

Crowley grumbled at that, nursing his drink in small but frequent sips.

"Yeah, well, I know what happens when you ask too many 'innocent questions'."

"You ask so many questions, dearest. It's going to get you into trouble."

Aziraphale frowned, looking down at his nearly empty glass before rising from his place on the couch to refill it.

Was he hearing his own voice now?

When had he ever said that? 

"You're starting to sound like Gabriel."

That voice again…So familiar yet...He still didn't recognize it.

"Don't start this again. Gabriel is just worried--"

"Worried about what?"

"That questioning Her is going to have consequences."

"Can't see how. A search for knowledge can hardly be a bad thing, Aziraphale."

His head suddenly began to throb, and he closed his eyes, raising his hand to his temple and applying a bit of pressure to find some relief. 

The owner of this voice knew Gabriel?

Had he been familiar enough to have actual conversations with Gabriel?

"Angel? You alright?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes, I'm alright. Just a bit of a headache."

"Headache? Those awful things humans get? Since when do angels get those?"

"I've been getting them now and then for almost as long as I've been stationed on Earth. I'm not sure if it's because of my earthly corporation or because I've been down here for so long, but I don't believe any of my, ah, counterparts upstairs suffer them. They've been dreadfully a bit more frequent as of late as well, which makes it quite difficult to focus during my readings."

Crowley let out a noise of surprise, clothes shifting against the fabric of his chair as he straightened up. 

"Can't you just miracle them away?"

"Miracles don't seem to work on these, I'm afraid. When they get too intense, I force myself to sleep them off."

"I just want you to be safe, darling. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Sounds like you got a faulty corporeal form to me. As much as I'd hate to see you get issued a new one, you should check in upstairs about it.

The angel gave a non-committal hum, not paying attention to the demon as the pain slowly worsened. Aziraphale felt himself sway slightly, his feet feeling unsteady underneath him.

"Angel?"

"Nothing will happen to me; I promise you that."

" C-Crowley...I…"

"Don’t you go making promises you cannot keep."

The world started to tip sideways.

" Aziraphale!"

“Aziraphale!”

And then there was darkness. 

Aziraphale was flying, soaring as swiftly as he could manage through the shadowy skies of Heaven. 

The skies had never been so dark in his existence, flashes of lightning and screaming winds overtaking all his senses as Michael and Lucifer clashed above. 

Michael and Lucifer had never really gotten along; arguments and shouting matches became increasingly frequent. Michael always put God's Word ahead of everything, but Lucifer always asked so many questions, constantly questioning Her Plan. It was usually just an argument, each cooling down with their respective circles afterward, but this was the first time it had ever come to physical blows.

Aziraphale's eyes scanned the clouds where other angels had gathered to watch the horrors of the battle, trying to find the one face he'd been searching for ever since the fighting had broken out. 

It felt like an eternity, but his eyes finally caught sight of that familiar red hair, and he immediately descended from the sky. 

"Raphael!" 

The other angel turned his attention from the destruction and turned towards him, golden eyes transforming from wide with fear to relief-laced recognition. He couldn't focus on anything but that gold; the rest of him seemed a blur of fiery red, silhouetting his body like a warped halo.

"Aziraphale!"

When Aziraphale landed on the cloud Raphael stood upon, he wasted no time in closing the distance between them by throwing his arms around the lithe body, hands clutching to his robe and burying themselves in soft ringlets as if to ground him that his love was alright. 

He hadn't realized how afraid he'd been until he felt Raphael's arms around him. 

"They're fighting terribly this time. They're causing so much destruction ."

Aziraphale looked around them, alluding to the scattered fires and battered structures of their Home caused by their strikes.

"I know. Something tells me God has had enough of their quarrel."

Another clang rang out as the swords of the two Angels clashed together again, followed by a loud crack of lighting, Aziraphale startling at the sound.

"Who started it this time?"

"I think Lucifer tried to land the first blow." Raphael shook his head. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's never shown such anger ."

They tilted their heads back, watching as the two Archangels clashed in the skies. The fight seemed to drag on for an eternity, neither angel appearing to tire as they fought by sheer force of will. 

Suddenly, it all came to an abrupt end as Lucifer's wings began to smoke and smolder, crackling ominously similar to the lightning he was just producing before erupting into flames. 

Michael's eyes widened, startled and frightened as angels all around them began to cry out in alarm as Lucifer plummeted from the skies and down through the clouds of Heaven.

Time seemed to freeze, all eyes locked onto the spot where Lucifer had fallen, anticipation thick in the air as they all waited for any sign of the angel. 

Moments passed, but he never resurfaced, and Raphael's grip on his arms tightened a fraction.

Murmurs of panic spread through the crowd of onlookers, and Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, trying to extinguish the image of Lucifer falling through the clouds from his mind.

The skies were still swirling and inky, and the feeling of unease was so strong it was almost suffocating. 

It wasn't over. 

A sharp cry from a nearby angel startled them, and Aziraphale's eyes flew open, looking toward the outburst.

Another angel's wings were starting to smoke, just like Lucifer's had only moments ago, then another and another. The smoke brought sparks, then flames, and one by one, those angels fell through the clouds, much to the alarm of their companions. 

Why was this happening? Why were all of these angels falling?

" Aziraphale… "

More sorrow was enveloped in that utterance of his name than had ever been expressed in all of Creation; heartache dripped in every grief-stricken syllable, paragraphs of unspoken regret and penance wavering in the liminal space that had become of the expanse of Heaven.

The angel turned back to look at Raphael, distress overtaking his very being at his tone and only exemplifying as he saw the pain in his eyes and the beginning sizzle and trickle of smoke from his back.

"No…"

Raphael was going to fall. 

"No, no, no. Raphael, don't go !"

Aziraphale clung to the front of Raphael’s robes, his soul crying out with each passing millisecond that Raphael’s wings burned. 

He was losing him, losing him, and he didn't even know why.

Raphael pressed their foreheads together, his shaking fingers curling around Aziraphale’s upper arms to hold him up as he threatened to collapse.

“No, no, no…” 

Tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to spill as he grasped desperately to the smoking angel.

"Shh...I-It’s going to be alright. Aziraphale, listen to me–”

"Raphael, please, what is happening–"

“I don’t know. I don’t know the answers, love, but we’re running out of time.” 

“Raphael–”

“ Hush. Look at me, darling, please, please, just look at me. ”

Raphael moved his hands to cup Aziraphale’s face, guiding his gaze to focus on his own rather than let it wander to the burning mass that his wings were quickly becoming. 

“I love you with all that I am and all that I ever was. I love you more than there are stars in the sky.” 

“A-And I, you.”

“No matter what happens...We will find one another again, somehow, I promise.” 

The fire began to spread, and Raphael closed his eyes tightly. 

“Raphael…”

“I promise.”

Raphael pressed one last kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead before shoving the other angel away, sending him stumbling backward several steps just as flames consumed the rest of Raphael’s wings.

"No, no, NO… !"

Raphael fell through the clouds.

Aziraphale screamed.

" NO! "

Aziraphale shot straight up, eyes flying open and arms outstretched to catch the Angel who'd been Falling, but his hands saw nothing but air. 

He’d failed...He’d failed …

Sobs wracked his body, and his lungs constricted as he gasped for air his body forgot it didn't need.

Raphael was gone, he’d Fallen, and...this…

This wasn’t Heaven. 

The realization hit him hard, the small amount of air leaving his lungs in a rush as his arms fell limp into his lap.

Just a dream, he thought. A positively horrid dream.

But it hadn't felt like a dream; it had felt so real– the faint yet pungent odor of burning haunting his senses, the feeling of ash thick on his skin, on his wings, in his eyes.

Golden eyes....

"Aziraphale?"

The angel startled at the voice, head snapping to the source, surprised to find Crowley seated in an old loveseat beside the bed, setting his phone to the side to direct all his focus to the newly awakened angel. 

Wait. Was he in a bed?

"C-Crowley?"

What had happened? Where was he?

"Hell of a dream you were having, angel. Shouting and carrying on in your sleep, thrashing about."

Crowley's mouth was twisted into a frown. His sunglasses were strangely on, lately an uncommon occurrence in the angel's presence, even more so in his flat. They were hiding his eyes, and Aziraphale couldn't read what he might be thinking, but he could see by his posture that Crowley was nervous, possibly even concerned about him. 

"Well, yes, I…well, I suppose I was," He admitted with a shaky breath. "I-I'm sorry, dear, but what happened? Is this your bed?"

"We were having a drink at my flat; you got a terrible headache and fainted right in the living room," Crowley said carefully, still studying his face, posture incredibly rigid. "Figured the bed would be much more comfortable than the couch."

Aziraphale nodded mindlessly, trying to muster a strong enough smile to help convince the demon to relax, to see that he was alright, just a slight headache. 

And a horrifying nightmare, he thought to himself.

Crowley just sighed, obviously not convinced, as he waved his hand to miracle up a handkerchief, which he extended to the angel.

“What is–”

“You’re crying.”

Aziraphale blinked, grazing his fingers gingerly against his cheek and finding, to his surprise, that there were drying tears there. Crowley waved the handkerchief in front of him again, and the angel took it from him gratefully, wiping his pallid cheeks.

"Thank...ah, thank you. I didn’t even realize." His cheeks began regaining color, flushed red and prominent as embarrassment flooded his senses. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this trouble–"

"It wasn't any trouble. You alright?"

"Yes, of course," he rambled, "I feel so much better. My head hardly hurts anymore and–"

"Angel, you're shaking." 

Aziraphale looked down at his hands and saw that it was true. 

He was trembling. 

"Oh...I…"

Crowley moved from his chair to shift to the edge of the bed, sitting almost directly next to Aziraphale. 

"Was it your dream?"

Aziraphale laughed, but it came out sounding more like a choked sob. 

"More like a nightmare."

Raphael; that had been the Angel's name. Raphael had Fallen right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could have done to save him.

"Do you...ah...want to talk about it? Might help you calm down?"

But who even was Raphael? The two of them had shared a powerful bond, so why couldn't he just remember?

“Aziraphale!”

He buried his face in his hands as Raphael's distraught voice echoed around in his head, shoulders beginning to shake as he was overcome with grief.

Why couldn’t he remember? What was wrong with him? 

He felt a cautious hand brush his shoulder, the touch of his fingers feather-light to offer him silent comfort without crossing a line.

The act of physical comfort was rather an odd concept to him. Contrary to popular belief, Angels were encouraged to keep their distance from one another in Heaven; it was rather unprofessional to be open and affectionate with those you worked with, after all–at least that’s what they’d always been told. 

Demons, on the other hand, were known to be very hands-on with one another. Not affectionate by any means because they had an image to uphold, but they were indeed not afraid of offering gestures of physical contact or partaking in the occasional hands-on temptation.

Crowley had been honestly surprised when Aziraphale told him open affection was not permitted in Heaven, appalled even. Still, he was sure to respect Aziraphale’s space with a little more awareness from that point forward. 

Angels had been taught that affection was just...wrong, dangerous– tempting even. 

And yet, Crowley’s touch was...comforting, familiar, something he found himself leaning into. His body sank against the demon’s side as the hand resting on his shoulder moved to slip around to the other in something close to an embrace. 

"Angel, please, let me help you…"

Perhaps…

“Crowley...would it be too, uh...too terribly imposing if I asked to stay here tonight?” 

He didn’t want to go home; he didn’t want to be alone. 

He didn't want to have to experience Raphael's sorrow swallowing his very being in isolation; could feel himself going slightly mad just thinking about it.

Crowley exuded an aura of comfort that the angel couldn't help but be drawn to, as if the demon could simply fix everything just by being in his presence.

“Of course you can stay, angel. I won’t make you go home, not like this.”

Aziraphale took a shaky breath, eyes closing as he allowed the comfort of Crowley's company to wash over him. 

He had to figure this out; he had to figure out who this Raphael was–or had at one point been. 

“Thank you, my dear.” 

Finding anything about the angel Raphael was proving to be...rather difficult. 

Irritatingly difficult 

Heaven somehow seemed to have no records of him, and the name "Raphael" was barely mentioned in Aziraphale's extensive collection of human texts; it was almost like he’d been wiped out of existence after he’d Fallen–which made looking for answers on his own nearly impossible. 

On top of that frustration, there were few individuals he could ask. God would be impossible to reach, as She never took their calls, and the Metatron would never deliver their messages. 

So it was down to the next best thing: The Archangels.  

And seeing as how a certain Archangel had been mentioned in a past vision, he'd thought it best to start with Gabriel.

If he was being honest with himself, going to Gabriel was the absolute last thing he’d ever want to do, especially after everything they’d gone through with the Apocalypse That Wasn't and the events following. But at the same time, if this were the only way he was finally going to get some answers, then he’d just have to grin and bear it. 

He wasn’t necessarily banned from Heaven; Angels were extremely wary of him. When he asked the poor unsuspecting angel sorting paperwork outside his office if Gabriel happened to be free for a quick visit, they let him by warily with good sense not to ask any questions.

He stepped inside Gabriel’s office with a polite knock and a tight-lipped smile. 

Gabriel was seated at a desk, eyes skimming over a folder of documents with a thoughtful expression before lowering it as he realized the Principality was standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Aziraphale. What a genuine surprise.”

The business-like smile that typically occupied Gabriel’s face slipped effortlessly into place, professional and steely even as his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. 

“Hello, Gabriel. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything terribly important.” 

“Not at all. What brings you here? Come to finally apologize for Armageddon–”

“Mm, no, I haven’t, I’m afraid." He couldn't help the aloof tone he'd adopted, struggling to feign a more friendly demeanor to persuade Gabriel into helping him. "I actually came to ask you a question.”

Gabriel laughed, amused. 

“Not too many angels bold enough to ask questions, Aziraphale, but alright. What question do you have to ask?”

"Gabriel, who is Raphael?"

Gabriel’s smile fell as quickly as it appeared. 

"How do you know that name?” His voice had taken on an almost mournful tone, distress evident as his arms folded slightly into his body and he ran a hand through his ever-immaculate hair. 

"I just want to know who they are."

Gabriel sighed deeply, irritation clearly taking over. "Gonna need a little more than that, Aziraphale."

"Fine then. For almost 6,000 years, I've been having these... visions about an angel with golden eyes." 

Gabriel’s mouth pinched at the corners, studying Aziraphale with an intensity that he hadn’t seen used in a very long time. 

“Visions?” 

“Yes! Their eyes were golden; their hair was long– ginger colored! I could never focus on the rest of their face, but...they called my name, and when I heard their voice, my soul just started singing .” Aziraphale explained. "In one of the more recent ones, I called them 'Raphael'."

Gabriel said nothing, continuing to stare at him with that same intensity as before from across the room, so Aziraphale continued on. 

"They mentioned you by name in one of them–very familiarly, might I add. I know you know who they are."

Gabriel finally broke his intense stare at the Principality to look down at his desk, hand covering pursed lips in a deeply thoughtful expression. Just as Aziraphale was about to demand he say something, Gabriel let out what seemed to be his hundredth exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. 

“Raphael was a fellow Archangel of Heaven. He Fell alongside Lucifer during the Rebellion .” 

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in surprise. 

“An Archangel?   How did I know him?” He asked. "Despite my attempts to recall anything, I seem to have no memory of him whatsoever, so why do I keep dreaming about him? Why can't I remember ?"

"Gabriel, please, please, bring him back …!"

Aziraphale's excitement at finally getting answers faltered as his own voice yet again echoed around in his head, pleading to a Gabriel of the past.

“Because your memory of him was hindering your Heavenly performance,” Gabriel said, cooly. “The impact of the aftermath that the Fall left upon Heaven was devastating for all of us. Difficult choices had to be made to help everyone cope. Heaven couldn't simply stop functioning.” 

"I'm so sorry, Aziraphale. He's not coming back."

His words sank in, and Aziraphale felt his corporeal heart stutter as the memory flashed through his head. 

"No, no, no…You’re lying, Gabriel, you’re lying …you have to be lying...please..."

"Aziraphale–"

“ I just want to see Raphael. Where is he?

"Aziraphale, stop–"

"I just want him back. Why won't you help me?"

"I…I will. Don't worry, sunshine. I'm going to help you."

"Gabriel," Aziraphale whispered, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "Oh, Gabriel, what have you done ?"

"The only thing we could do, Aziraphale. The Archangels took the memories of those who Fell from every remaining Angel in Heaven.” Gabriel laughed, but it was hollow. He turned his head to face Aziraphale, violet eyes full of resentment. “Don’t look at me like that! You have no idea what it was like after we’d lost so many in the Fall! We asked Her again and again and again what we should do, prayed to her non-stop, but She. Wouldn’t. Answer !”

“If you don’t do something, then I will, Gabriel. The Almighty needs us to be ready for Creation, and you’re here…angel-sitting!”

“I can’t just leave him like this, Michael. He would do the same for us.”

“He is lost to us, Gabriel. He’s barely even Aziraphale anymore.”

“Michael–”

“No matter what you do for Aziraphale, it won’t bring him home.”

“Stop it.”

“And why should he be the only one to grieve? We’ve suffered loss too, have we not? Or have you forgotten your dearest Fahriel already?”

“ Enough.”

Aziraphale vaguely remembered violet eyes, the faint feeling of hands cupping his face, thumbs brushing his temples...

"G-Gabriel, what are you…?"

"I’m so sorry, sunshine, but this is the only way to help you."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as the realization settled into his bones.

"You... You took my memories?"

"I made an executive choice, Aziraphale. On behalf of everyone ."

Gabriel had taken his memories of Raphael, had taken everyone’s memories of Raphael and every other Angel who had Fallen that unspeakable day. 

And God had done nothing to stop him. 

"That wasn't your choice to make for us!"

Gabriel slammed his palms down onto his desk, violet eyes bright with fury. 

"Don't question the choices I was forced to make, Aziraphale! I did what was best for all of those who were suffering!"

Aziraphale closed his eyes tightly, hands shaking at his sides. He was so... so angry, but he had to remain calm. If he wanted Gabriel to help him, he had to keep a level head. 

"Gabriel, please…tell me who he is."

“I will not.” 

“I know you know who he is, Gabriel... please .” 

“Knowing who he is will not bring you peace! He isn’t Raphael anymore!” 

“It doesn’t matter. My heart–my very soul has been crying out for him, Gabriel. I have to find him. I need to find peace.” 

Gabriel stared at him for a long time, expression unreadable, before sighing heavily, shoulders sagging as if he alone carried the weight of the very universe upon them. The two of them had never cultivated a relationship as close as something someone could call friends, but more in a way that people who work together force themselves to tolerate one another. For the greater good of course. This, disconcertingly enough, was probably the first time–perhaps ever–that Aziraphale could see something in Gabriel’s eyes that reflected something strangely...human. 

Guilt. Gabriel felt guilt. 

"I would give anything to forget what happened that day, Aziraphale. You should consider yourself lucky."

" Lucky?!" Aziraphale could feel the fury building within him, licking at his palms like wild Hellfire as he itched to throw a well-aimed punch to the Archangel's pristine face. "You took the memory of someone I loved very much, that my very soul would not let me forget, how is that–"

"Raphael was my brother," Gabriel snapped, and Aziraphale's protests died on his lips, fiery rage extinguished at the anguish in that statement as he was stunned into silence. "You are not the only one who lost someone they loved that day, Aziraphale."

"Gabriel…"

The Archangel ran a hand through his hair again, further ruining its once natural perfection as he pushed back from his desk, rising from his seat.

"Michael and Lucifer always fought, always. We thought it was just another day of them fighting." He turned his back to the Principality, staring out the window to the skyline of Heaven. "And then Lucifer is just falling out of the sky, and before we could even begin to process it, so many other Angels were falling too."

Aziraphale stood behind him in silence, wringing his hands nervously as he stared at the Archangel. He'd never considered how much a toll this could have possibly taken on Gabriel. 

"We went around to get a head count of everyone who remained, and when we found you…” Gabriel sighed shakily, running a hand over his face. “Lord, you were hysterical. Screaming his name, cursing the Almighty, anguish rolling off of you in waves–you lashed out at anyone who tried to so much as touch you.”

“I-I did?”

“And when I approached you, you clung to me and begged me to bring him back, told me She wasn't listening, but there was nothing I could do.”

"We have to do something. There are more acting just like him...just sitting. Fading. And others still Falling as they lose faith in Her. They are angry, Gabriel."

"What would you have me do, Michael?"

"Have you spoken to the Almighty?"

"She hasn't spoken to us in ages, Michael; of course I haven't!"

"We can't just hope that it goes away! There has to be something! Our numbers are dwindling even as we speak–"

" Numbers?! Michael, listen to yourself; these are our brethren; they are suffering, and all you care about are our numbers. We need to focus on helping who we can, healing them, especially now that Raphael–"

"Raphael?"

" Now you've done it."

"Gabriel, where is Raphael?"

"He's...he's gone, sunshine. I'm sorry."

Aziraphale blinked the memory away rapidly, vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. 

"You were dying. You just couldn’t handle it; the heartbreak–no, soulbreak –was rotting you from the inside out, killing you slowly, and I...he… Raphael wouldn't have wanted you to suffer like that, so...I did what I had to do. Every day after that, seeing you thriving with all of your bright smiles and ignorance, it just...it became too much. Every time we saw you was like a punch in the gut, a reminder of our Fallen Brother, and in the end, we...well, we couldn’t handle it either."

They stood in silence for a very long time.

Aziraphale blinked, eyes still glistening, cheeks wet from the few stray tears that had spilled over..

"I am so terribly sorry, Gabriel."

He and Gabriel had been...friends once. It was hard to imagine that his superior had once been the equivalent of an older brother, looking out for him after they both suffered such grievous losses.

Gabriel used to be so different, so kind. The aftermath of the Fall seemed to have embittered him so much, twisted his heart into a cold, hard thing to protect himself from the everlasting pain of being the Protector, the Leader, the last Beacon of Hope for the remaining angels.

"I should have known what we did wouldn't hold, not for you. The both of you had such a deep bond that we just couldn't grasp it, a true connection that some could only hope to obtain one day."

"Then tell me where to find him."

“Aziraphale…”

“Gabriel…" his voice only a whisper, "please?”

Gabriel said nothing for a short time, still staring out to the skyline outside; Aziraphale was about to turn around to take his leave when he finally spoke again 

"You’ve already found him."

"I–Pardon me?"

"You found him almost the moment we sent you to the Garden."

"The Garden? But I didn't meet anyone at the Garden, I only met–"

Oh. 

Suddenly, it all made sense: why he had been so drawn towards Crowley since the Beginning, why they'd always inevitably gravitated back together even after long periods spent apart. 

"Did you know? That he would be there? That it was him?"

"No. We had no idea. When we realized, we finally understood why you were practically glowing during our check-ins with you on Earth."

"But you still didn't say anything? What about all of those times you tried to keep us apart? Tried to have us killed ?"

"He's still a demon, Aziraphale."

"He is still your brother, Gabriel," Aziraphale argued, exasperated. "He isn't anything like what Lucifer has become. If you would just talk to him, I know he would–"

"Aziraphale. You got the answers you came here for. You should go."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue; he would not allow Gabriel to dismiss him like this, not after everything, but...talking to Raphael–no, Crowley –would finally bring closure to this 6000-year enigma that his life had become.

"I have one last question."

Gabriel let out a wet laugh, sounding suspiciously close to a sob as he shook his head, still facing that damned window. 

"Then ask."

“In my memories, you called me 'Sunshine'. Why?” 

Gabriel looked up to the ceiling. Aziraphale may have been mistaken, but he could swear he saw a glint of wetness in the corner of those violet eyes before the Archangel closed them.

"A long time ago, I watched an Archangel create the stars. He had been so proud. I'd known him since he'd been created, and I had never seen him look so happy." Gabriel paused, a small smile forming on his lips. "At least, until he met you, of course, with your bright, contagious smile, more radiant than the very sunshine he created."

The Principality stilled as he took it all in: the story, the nickname, everything. 

"Thank you for your time, Gabriel." 

Aziraphale turned to leave the office.

"I'm sorry it all happened this way, sunshine."

The Principality paused in mid-step, taking a deep breath. The apology had caught him off guard, but he could feel the sincerity behind it. 

If only it had happened differently; he desperately wished it had.

"I forgive you." 

“Heaven, Angel, I’ve been waiting for hours! Where have you been? Not to be more rude than usual, but I’ve already started drinking without you.” 

Crowley had made himself quite comfortable in the bookshop during Aziraphale’s absence, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon open on the table beside a half-empty glass. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. I must have lost track of time.” 

Crowley hummed, summoning another wine glass with a snap of his fingers and filling it halfway for the angel. Still, Aziraphale didn’t move forward to take it and join him at the table, instead remaining awkwardly by the bookcase.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately, you know. Losing track, forgetting things." He raised his brows in mild accusation before waving his free hand noncommittally. "Oh well, no harm done. Now come sit down–” 

“I went to see Gabriel.” 

The demon had just begun to sip at his drink and choked on his wine, coughing past the burn and staring at Aziraphale in disbelief over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Why in the Heaven would you go see him? Did you forget that he tried to kill you? Are you insane ?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inflating his human lungs to maximum capacity before exhaling. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest, he was positive Crowley could hear it from the other side of the shop.

“I’m...I’m fine, I just…” 

Crowley rose from his seat, face twisting into a fearsome scowl at Aziraphale’s hesitation. 

“Angel, what did he do to you?” 

“Nothing! I mean, well, technically, he did something, but that’s really not why I went up there. Not at first, anyway. I really went up there to just ask him a question, but–Crowley, where are you going?”

“I don’t know what he did to you, but he can be damn sure he’s going to hear from me about it.”

“Crowley, wait!”

He started towards him and reached out as if to stop him from walking away.

“I’m sick of him throwing his weight around...Archangels and their blessed egos .”

"No, no, no. Raphael, don't go!"

Crowley was leaving; he was leaving, and he was going to get himself killed in Heaven and Aziraphale was going to lose him all over again.

"Raphael!"

“ Raphael !” 

Crowley went rigid at that, hand frozen just over the door handle. 

The silence was thick, suffocating. Crowley didn’t move, and Azirapahle couldn’t breathe, his hand still outstretched towards the demon to...stop him? Catch him? The memories of Then were blurring with the reality of the present.

“What did you call me?” 

“That was your name, wasn’t it? In Heaven? Raphael?” His voice was watery with the threat of never ending tears he seemed to shed for the demon, millennia of unconscious sorrow bubbling up all at once as his soul finally sang out to his love, remembering him even as his mind would not. 

Crowley turned slowly to look at Aziraphale, expression seeming neutral, but the angel knew from his trembling hands that he was shaken to the core by the question.

“It was, yes.” He said carefully, calmly. 

“And we knew each other back then? Before you Fell, I knew you?” 

“You knew me. We knew each other quite well.” Crowley laughed an empty, sad noise.

Aziraphale swallowed past the lump in his throat, hands clenched into fists and quivering at his sides.

"I went to see Gabriel because I needed answers, and he was the only one at the time that I knew could answer them. I'd been having dreams–visions, about an angel I'd called Raphael, but I had no idea who they were." He began. "I needed to know."

"Did he tell you?"

"He told me that Raphael was an Archangel who had Fallen. He also told me that he had hung the stars." 

"That all he told you?"

"No...he also told me that Raphael and I had been very close–which I'd already known– and that when he'd Fallen...I'd completely lost myself in my grief." He explained. "The Archangels supposedly made the decision to take the memories of Raphael and all the other angels involved in the Fall from me, alongside everyone else in Heaven."

Crowley said nothing, hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

“And when I came to Earth and met you in the Garden, I knew you. You were so familiar to me, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why. Then I started having these visions, messy things with no discernable parts except these: red hair, and golden eyes. A voice would start talking to me, a memory trying to claw its way back into my mind after every encounter I had with you."

Aziraphale closed his eyes, fingers curling into fists, nails biting into his palms. 

“I’d been trying to find you for so long , but you were right here with me all along.”

“Aziraphale…”

“And you knew ...didn’t you?”

Crowley sighed, clearly frustrated with a heavy exhale through his nose as he continued to stare at Aziraphale. 

“I knew, yeah.” 

“Everything?” 

“I didn’t know that you had your memories taken, but everything else...I remembered.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“What was I supposed to say, Aziraphale? Hey, angel, you don’t know me but I’ve known you since the creation of the bloody universe, so how about we just ditch this whole Garden of Eden thing and go off together? Would you have even believed me?” Crowley snapped, taking a hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair roughly as if trying to ground himself. "I didn't even know what would happen if I told you! I was afraid it would hurt you!"

Crowley took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. 

“And then the night you fainted, the night you had that dream...you said my name. My other name. And I knew that I should've told you the truth because you were suffering. Still, I was so scared, so worried that you'd end up like me for loving someone who questioned Her word, who himself Fell in his pursuit of knowledge. All this...this headache nonsense was your mind trying to remember me."

Aziraphale’s heart ached, and his vision started to blur. Crowley had been hurting for 6,000 years, and still, he had spent nearly all of it at the angel’s side, trying to make him remember a love that had been so strong that it had nearly destroyed the two of them when they’d been separated. 

"That all must have been so excruciating for you. I'm so, so sorry, darling."

Crowley laughed, something forced and fragile. 

"You find out your memory since the beginning of Creation had been rewritten and you're feeling sorry for me." He scoffed. "Unbelievable." 

"Crowley–"

"Don't. Don't you dare offer me any sympathy, Aziraphale. This is all my fault."

"What in the world are you talking about?" 

"They warned me. They all warned me, you warned me, about asking questions and hanging around with Lucifer and I just didn't listen– "

"That was hardly–"

"I abandoned you–"

"Crowley, stop–"

"And now you're telling me the moment I was gone, the Archangel fucking Gabriel swooped in and took every memory that you had of me?" Crowley asked a tad hysterically. "Just the cherry on top, that one! He was supposed to protect you, angel, not rewrite you into Michael's twisted version of the perfect angel."

Aziraphale felt the first tear finally spill over and slide down his cheek as the grief began to sink in. It caused him physical pain to watch the demon blame himself for his own Fall and the aftermath of it when it had been completely out of his control. 

"Oh, heaven, Angel, don't cry."

The angel shook his head, wiping the tears away, but he just couldn't seem to stop now that the dam had broken. 

"Oh, this whole thing isn't fair. It's not fair at all, Crowley."

“There, there, angel. It's alright." 

“No, it’s not. You've suffered so much for something that wasn’t even your fault, but they made you feel like it was, and that’s wrong. I had my memories of you taken, and that’s wrong too, Crowley, it’s–” 

Crowley’s restraint finally broke. He walked over until he was face to face with the angel, lifting his hands to cup his damp cheeks in his palms and tenderly wipe the golden tears away with his thumbs, murmuring calming words into the Angel's ear. 

“Shh, darling, I'm here, I've got you…”

He knew these hands, the gentle touch of fingers as they moved across his skin. Aziraphale sighed, his eyes slipping closed as the warmth washed over him, quieting his thoughts for the first time in millennia. 

IfoundyouIfoundyouYourehere

"Crowley…"

"You have no idea how it feels to be this close to you again, angel." 

Aziraphale laughed softly, somewhat in a giddy daze. He'd been with Crowley for 6,000 years and had never felt like this, but finally knowing he was the piece that'd been missing?

It was like coming home.

"You hung the stars for me."

"I did. And I would do it again if you asked me."

"You loved me."

"I never stopped, you know."

Aziraphale opened his eyes, looking up at Crowley's face, wishing desperately that he could stare directly into his own eyes; as usual, they were still hidden behind those awful sunglasses.

"Your eyes were the color of gold."

"They were, yeah. Not so much anymore." 

Aziraphale’s hands moved up slowly to Crowley’s face, gingerly taking the edges of his glasses between his fingers and sliding them gently off of his face so he could see the familiar yellow gaze. 

"There. That's better."

Crowley's gaze drifted to the side after his glasses were removed, avoiding Aziraphale's eyes entirely. 

Crowley had always been visibly insecure about his eyes, Aziraphale noticed. He had never worn them when the two of them were alone, but if the angel looked too intensely , the demon would get a bit nervous and flit about as if to distract the angel with something else.

Aziraphale placed a hand against the curve of his cheek, guiding him to return his soft gaze. 

"Don't do that...I love your eyes. Always have, honestly."

"At least one of us does."

" Crowley. "

The demon sighed heavily, covering Aziraphale’s hand with his own. 

“Aziraphale, there is a lot about me that’s changed. I’m not him anymore.” 

“I know that.” 

“I mean, I’m not exactly an angel anymore, either.”

“I’m well aware–”

“My wings aren’t pearly white–”

“That’s quite alright–”

“My eyes certainly aren’t golden anymore–”

“That doesn’t bother me, darling–” 

“And I know you’ve been looking for him all of these years, but...I’m…”

“I wasn’t looking for him. I was looking for you .” Aziraphale cut in. “And I found you.”

Crowley huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes in a way that Aziraphale would definitely call fond. 

“If we’re getting technical, I actually found you first.”

Now Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, pushing Crowley's face away from his with a smile. 

"Well, technically, I believe we found each other at the same time, my dear."

Crowley laughed, arms winding around Aziraphale's waist and tugging the angel close to him. Aziraphale sank into the embrace, noting how he fit so perfectly in Crowley’s arms, then tucked his head into the side of the demon’s neck.

"Don't suppose you have any plans tonight, do you, angel?"

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully.

"Mm...None that come to mind, no."

"A relief, that is. I don't think I'm going to be able to let you go for a long while," Crowley murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Perhaps we could just have a drink...stay close, possibly reminisce?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered just a bit, and he lifted his head to match Crowley's gaze once again.

“I can’t remember everything, I'm afraid...” 

Crowley hummed, brushing their noses together. 

“Then tell me what you do remember, and I’ll help with the rest.” 

As much as he wished that they would, Aziraphale's memories of life before the Fall didn't come back right away. 

They came back piece by piece, gradually over time, which the angel found incredibly frustrating– all he wanted was to finally remember. 

He wanted to remember Raphael, the life they'd shared in Heaven, everything that had been taken from him so he could finally feel whole again.

Crowley had been incredibly patient with him as his memories slowly returned, offering his own input regarding any missing information. He would coax the angel into bed when the headaches became too much to bear after intense visions, often already able to tell when they were setting in before Aziraphale realized. 

Unfortunately, the demon’s distaste for the Archangels, who had put Aziraphale in this predicament in the first place, only seemed to grow with every headache. Raphael had been wonderfully close with the other Archangels in Heaven, but the dissent following the Fall as well as the Apocalypse That Wasn’t put a very sour taste in Crowley’s mouth, and he never wanted Aziraphale to forget it.

“I don’t know why Gabriel can’t just miracle your memories back. He took them away, did he not?”

“I’m sure it’s much more complicated than that, my dear.” 

“How in Heaven’s name can it be complicated? The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away and all that? If he's doing Her work, he should be able to 'giveth' again; the righteous prick probably just doesn’t want to.”

“Now, Crowley–”

“Don’t you ‘Now, Crowley’ me. Gabriel has never been able to admit when he was wrong, and I can guarantee he won't start now.”

“Honestly, if you two would just talk to one another, you may be surprised–”

“Spare me, angel. Gabriel and I are not going to reconcile anytime soon."

Fortunately for both of them, Gabriel’s aid didn’t seem to be needed, as simply spending time with Crowley was all of the aid Aziraphale truly needed to jog his memory. 

It was in the little things Crowley did on a day-to-day basis, usually. The way he would tend to his plants or lounge in the bookshop, the sound of his laugh or even the sight of his smile. 

Aziraphale would often find himself simply watching Crowley, transfixed by these simple actions as the gentle brush of a memory from long ago would grace his mind.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm...Just a memory." He said warmly.

"Oh? Any headaches involved?"

"Not this time, my darling."

"Good. What was your memory then?"

"The first time you took me to meet the stars. You introduced me to each one that you created with your own hands, even showed me how it was done."

Crowley smiled.

"I'd never seen you so speechless. You wanted to stay lost up there forever, just stargazing." 

"It was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen, Crowley. It still is."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, angel."

"Will it get me to Alpha Centauri?" He said cheekily.

"It'll take you anywhere you want to go, my love. You know that." 

There were still bad days, of course. The headaches would be terrible, the memories would be unpleasant, and sometimes Aziraphale would wake in the middle of the night screaming for an angel that no longer existed. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Angel, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright! I just want my memories back !"

On nights like those, when Aziraphale was too wound up and upset to fall back asleep, Crowley would gather a few of their softest blankets and one disgruntled angel, pack them up into the Bentley, and drive them out of the city. 

They'd spend the drive mostly in silence, fingers intertwined, the Bentley playing music at a volume barely above a whisper until they reached their destination.

It was about an hour outside of the city, a quaint, quiet little spot away from the bright lights and pollution with a perfectly clear view of the night sky. Crowley would lay out their biggest blanket on the ground, Aziraphale would lay down on top of it, and Crowley would join him, covering their bodies with the extras.

From there, they would stare up at the stars, hands clasped together under the warm blankets, and Crowley would just talk. He would talk about the day he and Gabriel crafted the stars, point out the constellations, and list them all by their current names and the names he'd called them when he'd originally created them. 

" You should have seen Gabriel's face when I made that one, angel, I thought his eyes were going to fly out of his head!"

Aziraphale would usually lay there in silence, letting the soothing sound of Crowley's voice and the soft light of the stars chase away the bad memories and nightmares. When the unease started to fade, he'd ask questions. 

"Do you miss them? The stars?"

"Eh, sometimes. I could go whenever I want, so it's not like I'll never see them again."

"If you could be back in Heaven, back amongst the stars, would you want to?"

Crowley was silent for a moment, thinking. "Nah, probably not. I don't think I would be happy in Heaven with the way things are now. The way... they are now."

"Do...Do you regret Falling?"

"The only thing I regret, Aziraphale, is losing you."

The time they spent under the stars would vary. It would either last until Aziraphale would ask him sweetly to go home or until the angel would fall asleep, his head pillowed on Crowley's chest, lulled into a peaceful slumber by the demon's voice. 

In the case of the latter, Crowley would carry Aziraphale back to the Bentley and carefully settle him into the passenger seat so as not to wake him, gather their blankets, and drive them back into the city. 

Aziraphale would typically wake by the time they returned home, just aware enough to carry himself up the stairs to Crowley's flat or the loft above the bookshop and fall back into the comfort of the bed they shared. 

Usually, he'd fall right back to sleep when Crowley gathered him in his arms under the blankets, but…tonight was a bit different. 

Something had been on the Angel's mind for some time, nagging constantly at his thoughts.

"Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking."

"Dangerous."

"Oh hush, you. I'm trying to be serious." He smiled where his head lay on the demon's collarbone, despite his chastising. "What would you think of moving?"

"Moving? As in...moving out of the city?"

Aziraphale separated from Crowley and propped himself up on his elbow, a small smile still present on his lips as he looked down at the demon's face in the dark. 

"Yes. Out into the country."

"The country?"

"I was thinking of a nice little cottage in the country...away from the city, away from people. Just you and me and the stars."

Crowley's expression shifted to thoughtful, considering the idea before he frowned. 

"What about the bookshop?"

"I can always take the books with me."

"Angel, you love that bookshop."

"And I've loved you since before Creation."

Crowley blinked, expression softening as Aziraphale continued.

"We're on our own side now. We should do something for us, don't you think, my dear?" 

Crowley studied his face for a moment before lifting his hand to the Angel's cheek, smiling faintly.

"You're absolutely right, love."

Aziraphale smiled, turning his head to press his lips lightly to Crowley's palm, lingering for a few moments before he spoke again.

"I usually am, you know." 

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. I'm well aware, angel. Now go to sleep. It seems we're going to have a busy day tomorrow."

They shared a chaste kiss, and if Aziraphale noticed a flash of gold in the demon's eyes before he closed them, he'd never mention it. 

When morning came, an angel and a demon settled themselves at the table for breakfast. Among the plates and mugs, there were a dozen different listings for different real estate options spread out for their viewing.

"I'm personally fond of this one in South Downs. All of that space in the back? You could have a little garden, dearest."

Crowley hummed, running his thumb affectionately over Aziraphale's knuckles as he scanned the listing. 

"Little nook in the window for you to read in."

"Best of all, the privacy. Just us and the stars, like we always wanted." 

Aziraphale smiled at the demon, squeezing his hand and only smiling wider when the gesture was returned. 

"Well, angel, where do we sign?"

Chapter Text

Just to get the word out there to those who have subscribed:

The long-awaited prequel to this fic from Gabriel's point of view has been posted and added to the series.

Please enjoy!