Chapter Text
“Oh, well, I’d have to think about it.”
Return to Heaven…? Well, he couldn’t deny he felt that familiar pull towards it. But as well, he was tethered here. *Happy* here. He had his bookshop. He had friends. He had Crowley. Yes, he could never leave Crowley like this.
“Ah, well, that demon friend of yours - he could come with us, you know? He could be your second in command.” Metatron enticed.
This took Aziraphale off-guard. Crowley… could come to Heaven with him…? He often saw Crowley’s innocent face from when they met in his dreams. For a while, he’d assumed that’s all they were. Dreams. But… could that version of Crowley really return…?
No. Crowley wouldn’t want this.
“I’m afraid he’d be rather impartial to-“
“You see that sign over there, Aziraphale?” Metatron interrupted, gesturing to Nina’s coffee shop.
“Nina’s coffee shop! Yes, I do rather like it there-“
“No, the sign. ‘Give me coffee or give me death’. An odd name, don’t you think?” Metatron had a curious expression on his face, yet there was malice hidden under it. Aziraphale suddenly felt as if the aura had changed.
“I suppose so.” Suddenly, the coffee in his hands felt a lot heavier. Should he have drunk it…? He felt sick.
“Funny. You should understand it well, Aziraphale.” His eyes met the angel’s. “Since, after all, that is what I am proposing.”
*Coffee or death*.
“Surely, you wouldn’t…?”
Metatron smiled in mirth as if someone had just told him a rather amusing joke.
“Oh, no, don’t be silly! Of course *I* wouldn’t, no - this is God’s plan, after all. You and that demon are just… in the way. Quite frankly, you have both sinned. You honestly deserve a much worse punishment. However… in Heaven, we could make use of you. You could be a part of God’s plan again. Otherwise… well, we’d have to stop you interfering.”
Aziraphele felt tense, and thoroughly on edge. This… this really was cruel. He and Crowley were meant to have carved out their futures together. Found their own little space in the vast, vast world. Perhaps he may have gone to Heaven still after this, but proposed a deal, a way he could still visit Crowley and his bookshop whilst making a Heaven Crowley would want to see.
But Metatron was right. They had sinned. Gone against God’s plan. Even if he was in a morally grey area… Even if he had changed…
It was still wrong.
“What… what if I were to come alone? Crowley has a strong opinion of Heaven… I doubt even I could’ve convinced him to come along.”
The Metatron sighed, pursing his lips.
“Well, if Crowley refused to come to Heaven… I’m afraid he’d be out of our jurisdiction. However, I suppose if you were to stay in Heaven and have no contact with him… that may suffice. But you’d have to swear not to visit him, else our deal would be broken. I am only offering you this position Aziraphale because I still believe in you. We wouldn’t want that trust to be broken, would we, dear fellow?”
Aziraphale hid his hands under the table as they began to tremble. This… this would really hurt Crowley. This would mean the end of their bond. And God knows what he’d be used for in Heaven…
But this was Crowley.
Crowley, who had saved him countless times. Crowley, who had risked his own life to save Aziraphele’s many times. Crowley, who had burnt his feet in an church just to rescue this stupid angel.
Crowley. Who it was his turn now to protect.
I’m sorry, Crowley, my dear - it seems you won’t be able to rescue me this time.
“Alright. I agree to your terms. Just… promise me you won’t hurt Crowley.”
Metatron smiled.
“Why, of course I won’t, as long as you follow these terms! Now, Aziraphele - why don’t you finish your coffee?”
Aziraphale obliged. This is how things would be from now on. He matched the Metatron’s gaze, bringing the warm liquid to his lips.
It was bitter.
***
Stay calm, Aziraphale. Stay calm.
He shifted his face to a smile. He could try and convince Crowley. To leave Crowley alone… he couldn’t bear it. And, deep down, he knew he could not bear Heaven without Crowley beside him.
But when he stepped in, he felt as if there were a lump in his throat. Still, he feigned excitement.
“Look, I suppose, um… I’ve got something to say.”
Oh. Oh no. This… it wasn’t really…? No, he was overthinking, surely.
“I know we ought to be talking about... It's probably best if I start off doing all the talking, you do all the listening, 'cause if I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking, right?”
No, this couldn’t continue! He couldn’t handle that now…! Luckily, his restlessness seemed to come across as excitement as Crowley didn’t seem to notice anything.
“What's that lovely human expression? Oh, yes! Hold that thought.”
He could see Crowley’s change in expression. But the bitter taste of coffee was a constant reminder of how things would go if he didn’t do this.
Aziraphale began to recount his ‘talk’ with Metatron, conveniently leaving out the part where his and Crowley’s lives were threatened. No, he couldn’t let Crowley carry the burden of this. He had sinned. He would take responsibility. And he’d be damned if Crowley suffered for it.
“And you told him where he could stick it then?”
Ah.
He knew this was the likely outcome. He knew it. Yet the words didn’t sting any less.
“Not at all.” Well… regardless, he wasn’t expecting Crowley to deny it that quickly.
“Oh, we're better than that, you're better than that, Angel! You don't need them. I certainly don't need them! Look, they asked me back to Hell, I said no. I'm not gonna be joining their team. Neither should you.”
They didn’t need it, no. But their opinions weren’t the only ones involved anymore. He had learnt now you cannot just ignore Heaven or Hell. No, they’d come for you.
“But... Well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys. But Heaven... Well, it's the side of truth, of light, of good.”
He was beginning to doubt his own words.
“Tell me you said no.” Crowley seemed desperate, pleading. “ Tell me you said no.”
Oh, Crowley. I wish I could have.
“If I’m in charge… I can make a difference.”
It was his only hope. And with Metatron looming over him like that… he had little chance of making a difference. Still, he couldn’t help but plead.
“Oh, God. Right, okay.”
No. This couldn’t happen now. It just… couldn’t.
“We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me.”
No. No no no. Not like this. Not in this moment. Don’t make it hurt more, Crowley. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.
“I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't.”
There was a nervous edge to Crowley’s voice now. Aziraphale subtly tensed his fist at his side. He was right, they’d spent their entire existence pretending… so why now?! Why couldn’t they pretend for just one more moment?
“I mean, the last few years, not really. And I would like to spend…”
Oh, Crowley. Crowley had paused for a moment, clearly agitated and unable to convey what he wanted to.
But what hurt most was that no matter how he wanted to, Aziraphele could not say it either.
“I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can. Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic. We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me, what do you say?”
Ah. How simple Crowley saw the world. Of course he wanted to run off with Crowley - but Earth was precious too. So many things he loved, his bookshop, the Bentley, the Ritz… And what made them even more precious too is that they all reminded him of Crowley.
He couldn’t leave that, even if he wasn’t being held at gun- well, book-point.
“Come with me... to Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference!”
He knew this had to happen. He knew it. But… it still hurt endlessly.
“You can’t leave this bookshop.”
“Oh, Crowley… nothing lasts forever.”
No, it didn’t. And he was foolish for thinking he could enjoy this peace much longer. With Heaven and Hell always watching them? No, it would always come down to this.
“No. No, I don't suppose it does. Good luck.”
“Good luck? Crowley!”
This was it. This was it. But oh, this couldn’t be it! He couldn’t do this alone! His facade of an excitable angel broke away until he was just a hurt, desperate soul.
“Crowley, come back, to Heaven! Work with me! We can be together! Angels... doing good!”
Please, Crowley. I need to know you’ll be safe. I need to stay by your side.
“I- I need you!!”
And there it was.
No, this was too desperate. He couldn’t let it slip like that. Crowley… please understand. Understand that I need you there with me. Understand that even if I can’t, you can fix Heaven. That you are so brilliant you just might do it.
“I don't think you understand what I'm offering you.”
“I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”
If only you knew.
“Well… then there’s nothing left to say.”
His eyes shone with unshed tears. For Crowley, this was goodbye. But he didn’t realise what kind of goodbye.
A truly final goodbye. He knew as Crowley walked away, this was likely the last time he’d see the one he loved so dearly.
“Listen, do you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“No nightingales.”
No nightingales.
That night at the Ritz.
Crowley remembered it.
There really would be no more nightingales.
“You idiot. We could’ve been… us.”
You have no idea how much I wished it were that way.
But then, he was taken off guard. Crowley… was kissing him. So intensely, so passionately. He knew he had to go to Heaven, but oh what was more angelic than this? He felt desperate for that feeling, yearning he had felt for 6000 years in one moment.
“I lo-“
For a moment, his resolve melted. He could stay here. They’d figure it out. They’d burn the book or whatever. They’d stay here forever and ever and-
No.
This time, they couldn’t win.
This wasn’t Crowley’s fault. Crowley deserved to be treated better. Crowley deserved to be happy… even without Aziraphale.
“I forgive you.”
Crowley sighed, adding two, sharp, painful, agonizing words before he left.
“Don’t bother.”
Ah.
The angel’s words had already lost their weight on Crowley.
Oh well. This was for the best.
Yet still, he guiltily raised his fingers to his lips. Savoring the last taste of Heaven he’d truly get.
Goodbye, Crowley.
He turned to the door opening once more, and for a moment, his heart was filled with hope. Had Crowley returned? Was going to come to Heaven with him? They were going to be-
Metatron.
“How did he take it?”
“Um, not well.” He half laughed to himself. That was one way to put it.
“Ah, well, always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions too.”
Questions that you encouraged him to ask… Aziraphale’s inner voice reminded him.
“Right, ready to start?”
Aziraphale wanted to run. To leave. To get out of here. But he had to stay. If not for himself… for Crowley.
After all, he had sinned. Quite thoroughly. At least only Aziraphale had to bear the burden. Crowley would never have to know.
From now on, he vowed to protect Crowley at all costs.
Still, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.
“I- But, um, my bookshop.”
The Metatron showed only a glimpse of annoyance. He was good at this.
“Yes, well, for now I’ve entrusted it to Muriel, so it should be in good hands.”
For now…? He didn’t like the sound of that.
“But-“
“Is there anything you need to take with you?”
Oh, there were so many things he wished to take. His books. No, his entire shop. His special coffee mug, and his collection of hot chocolate. His special pen he used for writing to his close friends. To Crowley.
The phone he used to tell Crowley about something fun he did that day.
The special tea set he used with Crowley.
Crowley.
“Nothing at all.”
Aziraphale turned to see Crowley waiting at the Bentley. Waiting for him to come back, apologise, tell him everything would be okay.
I love you.
He stepped into the lift with Metatron.
“Well, I can't think of a better angel to wrap things up, and to set into motion the next step in the great plan.”
Angels always were good at flattery. Still… the next great plan. Was it a second apocalypse…? He must tread carefully. He couldn’t risk the Earth being destroyed like this.
“Can I know what it is?”
“Well, it’s something we need an angel of your talents to direct.”
Ah. Was that one genuine, or was it because he was essentially going to be a puppet?
“An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Ah.” Is all he could muster.
“We call it the second coming.”
He forced himself to smile and act pleased as a feeble shield against what was to come.