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According to its etymology,holy means whole; a holy being, therefore, is a being that is inherently complete, and, according to religion, absolutely full by God’s virtue and grace. Angels are supposed to be holy beings.
But Aziraphale feels like he isn’t.
Ever since he can remember, he’s felt a hole inside him. A metaphorical hole, of course, but a hole nonetheless. It’s like his soul is a jigsaw, and there’s only one piece missing, a piece he can’t for the life of him find.
Maybe it had something to do with his missing memories.
You see, Aziraphale can’t remember being created. This, differently from humans, who can’t remember being born, is very odd for an angel. Angels, when created, are assigned their function, their role; it’s supposed to be a memorable event, to be remembered and treasured for the rest of their lives.
And Aziraphale simply can’t remember.
Sure, he knows his role, his duty. He’s a Principality, created to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden, and, subsequently, to protect the Earth. Nevermind the fact that he’s technically unemployed since his botched execution, which, by the way, happened almost 48 hours ago at this point of the story. That’s not the point.
The point is... oh dear, what’s the point again?
His missing memories. Right.
He’s talked to other angels about it, of course. But neither Michael, nor Uriel, nor Sandalphon, nor any other angel he talked to seemed to have the faintest idea about what he was saying. The exception was Gabriel, who seemed to suffer from the same problem. They bonded over their shared malady[1] but never got far on figuring the problem out. The farther they got was finding a few other angels who also suffered from amnesia, but it was very rare.
Eventually, both of them just shrugged it off and never talked about it again. And, for 6,000 years, he seldom thought about it again, just occasionally giving it a passing thought. For the vast majority of the time, he managed to forget both about his amnesia and about the hole in his soul.
However, in the last two days, he has thought about both of them with a burning frequency. The angel had lost count of how many times he had been doing something, anything at all, only to be suddenly by a wave of emptiness so strong he wondered how can he ever not sense it. Whatever it was that was missing from him, their absence was eating him away from the inside.
He suspected that his sudden break up with Heaven might be the cause of it. Maybe being further away from Her Grace left him more vulnerable to this void inside him. Maybe it was because he was feeling less holy than ever, on the common sense of the word.
And now he had cut ties with his former ally on this mess, so he was left to figure this out by himself. Maybe he should think about his first memory, and why it was immediately after the War[2]...
- SON OF A BITCH!
The angel’s musings were interrupted by the vicious curse, uttered from the other side of the room he was in. Said curse was voiced by a certain demon, the only demon who had ever set foot on Aziraphale’s bookshop and home, where both of them were. This demon, who went by the name of (Anthony J.) Crowley and who possessed both the honors of being Aziraphale’s best friend and his crush, was playing some mobile game on his cellphone, and apparently, being frustrated by it.
- I created you, you fucker![3]– continued Crowley, staring angrily at the screen of the device – You were supposed to make other people’s lives hell, not mine! – the red-haired demon finished his rant, locked his phone, threw it across the sofa he was sitting on and crossed his arms, definitely not pouting.[4]
Aziraphale, who had been organizing some books on the shelves while musing about his issue, smiled fondly at the scene before him, clutching the book he was holding to his chest. God, he loved him. Whenever Crowley was around, the hole on his soul seemed to grow smaller, almost to the point of being filled by it. Which only made the moments when the angel was left alone to his devices even lonelier and emptier. This was why, even though they had only an appointment at noon to go out for lunch, the angel had invited the demon earlier this morning, to hang out at the bookshop before they had to go.
He had been sure Crowley would reject his invitation; surely he would have been busy, what was he thinking, he shouldn’t be so clingy.
Crowley hadn’t rejected it though.
(What Aziraphale didn’t realize was that Crowley would never, except in extremely dire situations, reject any opportunity to spend time with his favorite angel.)
- Oh, dear – spoke Aziraphale, still smiling like a lovesick fool, while putting Pride and Prejudice back on the shelf – Those mobile games giving you trouble again, dear boy?
The demon turned his stare at him, his angry look fading away a little – You don’t know the half of it, angel. Argh, why do I even play this crap? I, more than anyone, should know that they are nothing more than a scam to leech off money from people and breed addiction and frustration, but noooo, I have to go and play it too. Fuck my life.
Aziraphale chuckled at his favorite demon’s antics. The demon shot him a fond look at seeing him laugh. Both of them shared a moment of comfortable silence, lost in each other’s eyes, before realizing what they were doing and looking away at the same time.
The angel fumbled around with the books he was sorting, trying to appear busy and unaffected, whilst his insides burned with love. If any other angel were in a radius of 500 meters, they would be bombarded by the wave of love Aziraphale was emitting at the moment. He supposed he was lucky Crowley, being a fallen angel, couldn’t sense his love, or his crush would have been given away 80 years ago.
Wait.
Crowley was a demon, but he had once been an angel.
Maybe he knew something about his issue?
- Hum… Crowley? – he asked, still not looking at the demon.
- Yes?
- Do you… I mean, you were an angel once, so maybe you… I mean, I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, about your time as an angel, but…
- Aziraphale. – the demon silenced him, with a serious voice. Aziraphale looked at him, and he was sitting straight, with a small smile on his lips. – Chill out, okay? You can talk to me about anything, I swear. Even about my time as an angel. I won’t be upset.
The angel felt yet again a wave of love for the demon, this one almost making his knees buckle. – Well, I was wondering… - he confessed, keeping his voice as stable as he could – Do you know anything about angels with amnesia? I mean, who lost their memories from their creation?
The demon stilled at his words, as if he had seen a ghost (to be fair, he doubted Crowley would be scared if he saw a ghost; the correct analogy might be “as if he saw an ocean of holy water coming towards him); all color was drained from his face, his lips parted, his right hand closed on a white-knuckled fist.
He definitely knew something about it.
- Why… - he began, his voice a little raspy, before he coughed a little and began again – Why are you asking that, angel?
- Well, you see… - Aziraphale answered, playing with his hands and avoiding his gaze – I have always had a gap on my memories; I can’t remember being created, at all, and nothing else after it that came before the War; my first memory is of the aftermath of the War, feeling a little lost and scared…
Crowley said nothing, so he continued.
- I know I’m not the only one, I mean, Gabriel told me he experienced it too, (Aziraphale was far enough from Crowley to not hear his muffled scoff and murmur of “Tsc, obviously Gabriel forgot it too”) but he doesn’t know why, and no one else I talked to knows why too, and… I just wanted to know if you knew something about it. – he finished, and looked expectantly at his best friend.
Crowley was silent for a few seconds, with an indescifrable look on his eyes, until he sighed and answered, with a hint of sadness in his voice. – Angel… it means you, once upon a time, loved an angel who fell and became a demon.
Oh.
Wait, what?
The angel verbalized his thoughts, and the demon once again sighed and continued – After the War, after me and the guys took a Free Fall from Heaven straight down to a pile of sulfur and ash, a lot of angels, who had formed significant emotional relationships with the Fallen Ones, were left heartbroken. God, in Her Infinite Mercy™ – he said those words with such venom he practically spat them – erased the memories of those angels, so they could start anew without the burden of being tied emotionally to a fucking demon. You were one of those, apparently.
Oh.
So… that’s what his missing piece was? This emptiness? He was missing someone, someone he couldn’t even remember? Someone who was now… a demon?
He had to giggle a little at the irony. Seems he was destined to fall in love with demons, seeing as his first and his current loves were both ones.
- What’s so funny? –inquired the demon, suddenly looking very miserable.
- Oh, nothing, my dear boy. Just connecting some dots. – he deflected, picking up another book to sort on the shelves, to have an excuse to be silent and sort through his thoughts.
- Real jerk move, if you ask me. – Crowley remarked, dejected – Fucking unfair to the demons, who didn’t forget about their angels and were left to suffer for eternity because of that as well. She really fucking hates us, huh.
- I’m so sorry to hear that, dear. – answered the angel, putting Romeo and Juliet, the last book, on the shelf, secretly hoping Crowley himself wasn’t one of the demons who had had a sweetheart on Heaven and still had feelings for them. It would ruin his plans and break his heart terribly. He didn’t dare to ask, though. – Might I tempt you to an early lunch, so we can leave this topic behind us? I can see you are clearly uncomfortable talking about it. Please don’t be one of them, he silently prayed. Please.
The demon didn’t comment on the angel’s comment about his uneasiness, he just got up and answered his proposition with an “It would be my pleasure, angel”. He walked to the door of the bookshop and opened it slightly ajar. The sunlight came through the opening, bathing the demon on it, accentuating his red hair and his golden eyes, and making him look like the glorious and divine angel he once was. Seeing as the angel was staring at him, dumbfounded, he extended a hand to him with a genuine smile, apparently having put behind the uncomfortable issue behind him. – Coming, Aziraphale?
”…come with me, Aziraphale?", said someone, holding out a hand to him, grinning madly with happiness.
Aziraphale stumbled at the vision, almost falling behind on the shelf, his hand flying up to his forehead. His eyes were wide, while his brain went faster than the Bentley when Crowley was particularly in a hurry, trying to process what he just saw.
Better yet, what he just remembered.
-Angel? – Crowley was on him in a second, worried about his sudden unbalance - Are you alright? We can stay and order take out if you aren’t feeling okay.
Aziraphale almost didn’t hear him amidst the turmoil inside his brain. Did he… did he just catch a glimpse of his long lost love? Was that a memory? He couldn’t see their face or any distinctive characteristics, but he was certain that this was them.
- Crowley… - he gasped, suddenly realizing the demon’s hands were clasped in his forearms, and he was looking at him with a look equal parts worried and soft; the hole in his soul grew smaller yet. – I… I think I saw my former sweetheart.
Crowley’s snake pupils grew impossibly wide at that comment; certainly as shocked as him that it was possible for an angel to remember their amnesiac past[5].
- You… you what? – his hold on his forearms grew impossibly tighter – Did you… did you, perhaps… recognize h-them? D-d-did they look like any demon you might know? - he inquired, desperately, in almost a whisper.
- I… I didn’t see them properly – he admitted, a little startled by the intensity in the demon’s eyes; they had a look of desperation in them, like those of a dehydrated man on a desert who suddenly finds an oasis – I could just see their smile and hear them calling to me.
- Ah. – mumbled Crowley, deflating like a popped balloon and letting go of his arms; Aziraphale missed the contact, even if forceful, already – Yeah, okay, it makes sense… stupid fucking God, he mumbled, too incoherently for the angel to understand.
- W-well, dear, – blurted Aziraphale, to break the tense silence that had stretched between them – shall we get going? It’s always better to arrive early on your reservation, after all.
Hearing the angel’s words, Crowley closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, he seemed to be in control of his emotions again. He put on a pleasant smile and reached out for the sunglasses on his pocket, which had stayed put his entire stay at the bookshop. Aziraphale knew that it was technically because they would be going out, but he knew that it was also a barrier so the angel couldn’t see clearly what he was feeling.
As they walked out, side by side, the angel kept thinking to himself that maybe, if he had read his friend right, the demon could be feeling apprehensive because of Aziraphale’s revelation of his past sweetheart and that he would choose them instead of him, to love.
He couldn’t be further from the truth if that was the case.
That angel-turned-into-demon might have been his past, but Crowley was his also his past, his present, and, if he was lucky, his future.
How could an once-love he couldn’t even remember compete with six thousand years of memories?
That’s what he told Crowley, two days later, at a dinner date at the Ritz, when he confessed his love to the demon. He was reciprocated, obviously. He had always been reciprocated, even before he ever felt anything to begin with. And when the demon cradled his face on his hands, handling him like he was the most precious thing on Heaven, Hell and Earth, and touched his forehead with his, so he could gaze adoringly at him, he swore that for a second he could see a flash of yellow, non-snake eyes, gazing back at him.
And their kiss, when it was finally consummated, felt less like exploring a new territory and more like coming home after a long time away.
It was three months, two weeks and five days into their new relationship when Aziraphale is struck with a revelation, sudden and fast like a lightning bolt smiting a tree on a stormy night.
- Raphael. – he says, in a trance, looking straight ahead but with his eyes glazed and not seeing anything[6], 100% inside his head. Which is exactly why he doesn’t see Crowley’s visceral reaction to hearing that name, those syllables burning holily on his essence.
- Wh-what did you just say? – the demon inquires, having heard perfectly the first time but not believing his ears; how long has it been since he heard that name?
Aziraphale snaps out of his daze and looks at the demon sat across him on the table; they are having breakfast (which means Aziraphale is having a proper breakfast, with actual food, and Crowley is drinking coffee to keep him company) at his house (in which the demon spends approximately 80% of his time these days; at this point he only goes back to his apartment to treat his plants, basically) and he just uttered a random name out of the blue. Oh dear.
- Er… I said, “Raphael” – he answers, and the demon controls his reaction this time, not having been taken so out of surprise like seconds ago – I… I think that was the name of … of that angel…
He doesn’t need to expand upon that; he knows Crowley knows exactly what he’s talking about. Ever since that day, they hadn’t talked about that subject. The angel barely thinks about it anymore, either. Since they got together, the hole in his soul has been filled, and he’s so glad about it; but he isn’t whole yet.
It’s like (following the jigsaw analogy from earlier) if the missing piece of the board was found and put it back on its place; however, it wasn’t put completely right: there are still little holes in it, like there’s still a little bit missing. He supposes it’s fair since he hasn’t actually recovered his memories, so technically there’s still a part of him that’s missing. And he isn’t actually sure if he wants those memories back, after all; what he has with Crowley is so perfect, so right, that he wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for the world; its wholesome enough for him to withstand a few little holes inside him gladly.
However, apparently the ghost of his former lover isn’t done with him yet.
- Raphael, huh? – the effort that Crowley had to make to not gag and bend over from pain, and to keep his voice stable while speaking that name, was deserving of a reward. – You mean, the Archangel? Holy shit angel, you were getting it on with a bloody archangel? Talk about going big or going home. – the demon teased, clearly pleased with himself.
- Crowley! - the angel chastised, embarrassed, but with a smile on his face. His demon had a knack for making him laugh.
- Oh no, how the Heaven am I supposed to compete with an Archangel? – he said, faking exasperation, with a hand on his open mouth, fighting down his own smile - Oh, Aziraphale, I know, you wanna break up with me so you can go after your Archangel lover. It’s okay, don’t worry about me, I’ll… I’ll be fine. – he continued teasing, imitating an expression of hurt, sadness and despair, and failing miserably to stop himself from grinning.
The angel burst out laughing this time, unable to handle the ridiculousness of the situation. – God, why did you make me fall in love with such a drama queen? - he asked, looking up at the ceiling while holding out his hand on the table to his boyfriend, who took it immediately.
- Love you too, angel. – he responded, softly, with an awestruck smile, before turning back to teasing – So, should I set up some blind dates for you with my old crew? See if anyone’s a match for your Archangel?
- You are insufferable, you know? – Aziraphale answered, pinching the other’s hand soflty. - Glad to see you’re not jealous, though.
As if I’d be jealous of myself, the demon thought to himself, sipping from his coffee.
Five hours later, he connected the dots once and for all.
He was rereading a book, one of his favorites, and was about to lift his mug with cocoa to his lips when the epiphany hit.
He let the mug drop.
The book too.
Himself as well.
He slid off from the chair to the floor, incapable of keeping himself uptight.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
His only doubt was how he could ever have thought differently.
How it could have been anyone but him.
He put his right hand over his mouth, to suppress a scream of happiness, and found himself grinning like he never had before.
- That… that… - he tried to speak, over his bizarrely loud heartbeat, panting and feeling warm all over – that bastard! All this.. all this time… - and he burst out laughing, incapable of holding himself together.
He laughed loudly for about five minutes, then miracled his clothes clean and started running towards Crowley’s flat.
He barely remembered getting there.
Upon his arrival, he entered unannounced, using his copy of the key that Crowley gave to him a long time ago, even before they started dating. Usually he would announce his arrival, then politely and calmly enter the flat.
This time, he did none of those things.
He slammed the door and started running frantically around the flat, looking for its owner.
Said owner was tending to his plants, and almost discorporated on the spot on the sudden intrusion, thinking Hell had come for him again, and already panicking and trying to think of a strategy.
However, when he saw the angel, acting erratically, he got even more anxious.
- Aziraphale? What the Heaven are you d- - he was cut off by a frantic kiss on his lips and an embrace with force to move mountains. They both fell down as a result of said hug, hitting the floor, but the angel couldn’t stop kissing him, like his lips were a scrap of metal and his demon’s, the most potent magnet on Earth.
- Angel, what the Heaven… - started Crowley, out of breath, when he finally got to stop the onslaught of kisses, still on the floor, still below Aziraphale, who was staring down at him with a fierceness he had seldom seen on his eyes.
- Raphael. – the angel said, panting, with a glow on his eyes that shined more than the brightest star – You are Raphael, aren’t you, you wily ser- oh dear, what’s wrong? Am I hurting you? - he asked, noticing the way his boyfriend had grown tense below him.
- Don’t… - the demon asked, completely out of breath from the kiss and from the soaring pain inside him – Please, don’t… go saying… that name around.
Aziraphale looked confused. - Why? – he inquired, slowly removing himself from Crowley, to give him some space, but taking his hand in his.
- Demons, when we fall, we get our original angelic name striped out of us. – the demon answered, feeling better that the pain was subsiding and sitting up in front of the angel. – Whenever we hear our original name, in reference to us, or even say it out loud, the remnant of the holy grace imbued in it, it… it burns away at our demonic essence. That’s why we all choose a new name when we fall.
- So.. Raph- I mean, that name… it really was your name. – affirmed the angel, with a hint of a question at the end.
- Yes, Aziraphale, it was. – replied the demon, with a smug tone.
- And so… you were the one I fell in love with in Heaven.
- Yes, Aziraphale, I was.
- You bastard!- exclaimed the angel, pushing the demon out of amused anger; said demon started cackling - All this time, I was angsting over that, over a long lost love of mine, and how it might affect what we have, and… and it was all you!
- Of course it was all me, I’m the only one for you. – Crowley retorted, with a teasing smile on his face, but Aziraphale could see a hint of insecurity on his eyes. He grabbed the other’s hand and squeezes as if to say “You are”. The demon then took their interlocked hands and brought it to his lips, kissing Aziraphale’s hand softly. -In my defense, when you breached the topic, I couldn’t just say “hey, so, I am that long lost love of yours, we dated for like half a century in Heaven, ta-da”.
- Why not?
- Would you have believed me?
- Of course I… well… - the angel hesitated, playing with a loose thread of cloth on his pants with his free hand. – I admit I would have thought it too convenient…
- See? You might have thought I was taking advantage of the situation, of you. – His grip on the angel’s hand tightened - And then, after we got together, I was afraid you would freak out by me revealing something this huge so early on in our relationship. Besides, I wanted from the start for you to find out by yourself, so you wouldn’t ever doubt me. It would hurt too much if you doubted me.
- Crowley… - the angel used his thumb to trace a soothing pattern on the back of the demon’s hand, who was still holding his.
- And, well, I admit that after a while it got real funny watching you be so oblivious, so I may have let this go on for longer than I needed to. – he confesses, with a devilish grin.
- Okay, I take it all back, I hate you. – responded the angel, laughing and pulling the demon, who was smirking proudly, into his arms. They embraced each other, softly and in silence, for a while, until the angel decided to break the silence:
- So… you’ve been in love with me this whole time, huh? - he raised his head to look at the demon’s eyes. – I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, my love.
- It’s alright, angel – reassured the demon, caressing the angel’s cheek. - At least I got half a century of being with you before those six thousand years of pining from a distance. - he chuckled a dark laugh, his tone growing suddenly serious. – I tried to, you know… fall out of love with you. Before we met again at the Garden. I tried to forget you like I knew you had forgotten me. When I saw you there and decided to go talk to you, I was sure I was over you. But then you gave away your sword and I fell on my knees for you again. It was inevitable.
- Oh, my dearest. – Aziraphale murmured, moving his head to kiss his forehead. – I’m afraid I have a lot of time to make it up to you, don’t I? But first, let me ask you a question?
- Shoot.
- How exactly does an Archangel fall for a mere Principality?
Crowley gaped at him.
- You… you want me to tell you our story? How we met, fell in love, got together, the whole deal? – the demon asked, incredulous. He thought he would never have this chance, never would be able to fill in Aziraphale on everything they had had.
- Why yes, I’m feeling terribly out of the loop, it’s unfair that one part of this relationship knows so much and the other so little. – the angel shifted, to sit leaning on the wall and pulling the demon to do the same. He grasped their still joined hands and smiled. - I want to know everything, love. Spare me no details.
And so Crowley did.
They spent until the next morning on that endeavor, the demon reminiscing about his past and the angel discovering a past he never knew he had.
And in the end, even if he couldn’t exactly remember that past, that was okay. Crowley remembered enough for both of them.
And, as the rays of the new morning broke through the windows of that flat in Mayfair, Aziraphale felt, for the first time in the life he could remember, completely holy.
Bonus:
- So, if everyone who has amnesia was someone who loved an angel who Fell…
- Yes?
- Does that mean that Gabriel once loved a now Fallen Angel as well?
- Yes, he did. – was all the demon could say before bursting out laughing.
- What’s so funny?
- Oh, angel, you have no idea… but yes, Gabriel dated someone back in the day. They were kinda cute together, not as cute as me and you of course, though.
- Who was it? Do I know them? I mean, as a demon?
- Yes, you do. Oh man, me and them, back in the day, we used to bitch about Heaven and Her and about our respective angels to each other all the time. But Hell forbid anyone downstairs find out about it. Oh, if only they knew they sentenced my angel to death while thinking he was me…
- …no.
- Yes.
- You are joking.
- Have I ever lied to you?
- Are you telling me that Gabriel used to date freaking Beelzebub?