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There is a knock at Crowley's door.
He doesn't bother to feel curious. He just walks across and opens it.
And sees Aziraphale. His face is crumpled with despair and fear, tear stained and trembling. Crowley's heart gives a painful thump.
'No,' he says flatly before the angel can speak. He turns around and strides away, but he doesn't close the door.
'Please,' gasps Aziraphale, struggling to keep his voice level through even that one word. He wrings his hands together but doesn't move his feet. 'Please, Crowley, I - I'm so sorry, I -'
'Save it, Aziraphale.' Crowley stands with his back to his one time adversary. One time friend. 'You made your position quite clear.'
'I was wrong,' Aziraphale stumbles forwards. 'I was so wrong. I thought I could… make things better , I thought I could help , I only ever wanted… Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm just so very sorry.' He sniffs shakily, desperately suppressing further tears.
'Yeah,' Crowley doesn’t turn around. His voice is still dull, expressionless. 'I know.'
'Can you… is there any way you can ever forgive me?'
Crowley finally turns around. His face is rigid but his eyes are blazing behind his sunglasses.
'What were you forgiving me for?' He asks the question as though it hardly matters, only a trace of mild curiosity colouring his tone.
'I… don't know,' admits Aziraphale, taking a step forward. Crowley takes a deliberate step back, maintaining the distance between them. 'I was… angry. With you. With myself. With… Heaven.' He glances up nervously at this, a bare flicker of motion, then returns his gaze to Crowley. His eyes are shining with forcefully unshed tears.
'That's not an answer.' Crowley raises his chin, turns his head just slightly to one side.
'I know,' Aziraphale agrees quickly. 'I… it was for… staying. For… for…' He hesitates, as though he knows what he says next will be the wrong thing by a long way. Yet he is determined, at last, to be honest. Crowley deserves that. He sighs with exhausted resignation. 'For… abandoning me.' He cannot meet Crowley's eyes - or rather, his dark glasses - as he says this.
Crowley finally shows some emotion at this. His mouth twists into a furious grimace and he takes one long stride forwards, radiating - for a moment - utter fury.
'Abandoning you ?' he snarls, before wrestling himself back under control and twisting away again with a bitter noise that is barely the distant cousin of a laugh.
'I know!' Aziraphale cries. 'I know, I - I'm sorry .' He knows it is not enough, but there are no words in any language he can think of that could ever express the depth of his regret, of his shame. 'For tempting me.' He winces, knowing this is very possibly an even worse thing to say. 'For being angry. For… Oh, does it matter ?'
There is a long, long moment of silence. Crowley swallows. With his back once more to Aziraphale, the angel doesn't notice. He only sees the absolute rigidity of Crowley's shoulders. He sees the tension; Crowley's whole body is a tightly coiled spring, ready to explode at any moment. Aziraphale sees the result. He does not see the effort it is taking.
'And what,' Crowley turns back once more to watch Aziraphale's face as he asks, 'am I supposed to forgive you for?'
'For being so stupid,' Aziraphale answers immediately. 'For believing them. For trying to change you. For not understanding. For abandoning you . For… everything.'
Crowley doesn't reply. Doesn't move.
'Please,' Aziraphale whispers. ' Please , Crowley…'
Crowley takes a deep breath.
'No,' he says.
Aziraphale gasps. The tears spill down his cheeks all at once and he makes no attempt to stop them, no attempt to say anything else.
Then Crowley reaches up - slowly, deliberately - and removes his glasses. His face looks carved from stone.
When he speaks, he places each word with extreme care.
'Not enough.'
His expression flickers but holds.
'Not without the dance.'