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Michael entered Aziraphale’s office without bothering to knock, a large tome in their hands. They came over to his desk and dropped it on the edge without a single word and then turned to leave.
Aziraphale fought off a sigh, “Michael, what is this?”
“The Book of Miracles,” Michael explained, half turning back to look at him. The expression on their face was patronizing, “Like it says on the title.”
“I can read,” Aziraphale pointed out. “What I can’t do is instantaneously know what I’m supposed to do with this.”
“....Right.” Michael turned fully back to him with a grimace, “My apologies. The Book of Miracles is a compendium of every miracle that has ever occurred or been wished for. The first half is every miracle that has been done by a divine being; it includes the reason it was performed, the power of the miracle, and what it actually managed to do. The second half is essentially prayers from humans, and that is then divided further into three sections. The prayers that have been answered, either by the Almighty or one of us, the prayers that went unanswered, and then the prayers that have Yet to Be Heard. It is your responsibility now to read all the new incoming prayers and decide if they should be granted or if they should be ignored.”
“And you waited ten years to give this to me?”
Michael’s blank stare told Aziraphale what he should have already known: they hadn’t deemed the book that important.
“Well, I appreciate you getting this to me now and explaining things.” Aziraphale lied, and patted himself on the back for it because it was much better than what he really wanted to say. “If there’s nothing else you need, you may leave.”
“Of course, Supreme Archangel.” Michael gave a half bow and then left the office.
Aziraphale waited just long enough to make sure they weren’t going to suddenly reappear before he turned his attention to the Book of Miracles. It was rather unassuming, but then again the books in Heaven didn’t follow the laws that the books on Earth had to, and so despite having an end and a beginning that he could see just from looking he also knew there could be an infinite number of pages in between that were just out of sight.
Curiosity seized him and Aziraphale cleared his throat, “Uhm… can you show me the miracles I have performed, please?”
The book obligingly flipped open to a specific page and at the top of it Aziraphale could see his name and current ranking. There was a long, long list of frivolous miracles that filled him with nostalgia just to look over.
He got to the end to see the last miracle he had ever performed.
HIDE SUPREME ARCHANGEL GABRIEL FROM ALL DENIZENS OF HELL (minus CROWLEY, formerly known as
REDACTED) performed in conjunction with CROWLEY, formerly known asREDACTED.
- The power of the miracle was five Lazuli.
- The miracle worked as intended.
Aziraphale was a little impressed with himself, a five was the highest he had ever gotten according to the book, and was probably the highest a Principality was capable of. It was a bad time to go that high considering how they had been attempting to stay under the radar, but hiding Gabriel from all the denizens of Hell had required a bit of oomph.
Hiding Gabriel from all the denizens of Heaven (outside of God) had needed even more power behind it, which Crowley had been able to take care of all on his own. It was just unfortunate that since they had been performing the miracle at the same time with the same end goal the whole of it had been evaluated instead of just Aziraphale’s portion.
“Thank you very much,” Aziraphale said sincerely. “Can you show me the miracles that Crowley has performed, please?”
Once more, the book flipped to the specific page that Aziraphale wanted. He was a bit disappointed to see that while the miracles Crowley had performed before his Fall were still there the name simply showed up as redacted once more. It seemed he would never find out who Crowley was before he had asked his damning questions, and Aziraphale was slightly disappointed to still not know.
To distract himself, he began to read through Crowley’s miracles. He had performed far less than Aziraphale had, but there didn’t seem to be a marked difference in strength before or after his fall, which was a bit surprising. Aziraphale’s eyes widened when he caught his name.
DON’T LET THE HEAVENLY HOST REMEMBER ABOUT THE SWORD.
- The power of the miracle was one lazuli.
- It of course did not affect the Almighty, and Her words about it are thus: “I wanted the sword used to protect the humans if need be, so of course I don’t give a shit if the humans get it. Oh, wait, actually, it would be really funny if I had it pop back up later during…”
- The rest of the Almighty’s words have been left out at Her request.
Aziraphale sat back in his seat, eyes unfocused as years of worry and questions resolved all at once. Crowley was why he had never gotten a reprimand for giving the flaming sword away, and the Almighty hadn’t cared enough about it to be angry. She’d been alright with it all along.
“Oh, what a relief.” Aziraphale sighed to himself. “Thank you, God, for not being cross. I really appreciate that. I was just trying to do what I thought was right.”
He received no answer, but he wasn’t surprised by that. Aziraphale hadn’t heard Her voice since not long after his creation. It appeared that being the Supreme Archangel didn’t grant him Her grace on this matter—that was reserved for the Metatron.
Aziraphale took a moment longer to sort his emotions out before returning to the next instance he saw his name crop up, and then the next, and then the next, and then the time after that. On and on it went, Crowley performing minor and major miracles for him even before their Arrangement, even before Aziraphale would have considered him a friend. A lot of the time it was stuff Aziraphale hadn’t even noticed, like the market having his favorite grapes or the bakery owner magically feeling better and opening when they otherwise would have been closed.
A small sinking feeling began to tug at his stomach. Aziraphale hadn’t realized just how much Crowley had done for him, and knowing he hadn’t done much of anything back made him feel terrible.
That was until his eyes traveled to the next miracle.
DON’T LET AZIRAPHALE REALIZE I AM DAVID TENNANT OR THAT I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH DOCTOR WHO.
- The miracle had the power of five lazuli.
- The effect was so influential that even when Aziraphale went to a con and got a signature from Crowley, formerly known as
REDACTED, he never picked up on his demonic presence at all and fully believed “David Tennant” to be nothing but human.
It had been ten years since Aziraphale left Crowley there on Earth, but none of that mattered now. All he could feel was the embarrassment staining his cheeks and an unholy amount of rage.
Without stopping to think, he snapped his fingers and the desk and book disappeared. Another snap started up the partial portal that would let him see into his bookshop. He had talked to Muriel plenty of times since his promotion, as they had a biweekly status report going on, but Muriel had never included Crowley in those reports and Aziraphale had never asked. Now he fully intended to ask Muriel if they knew his whereabouts at all.
"Muriel?" Aziraphale called before the image even came through.
When the bookshop came into focus, Aziraphale was surprised to see exactly who he wanted to yell at. Crowley and Muriel were standing with their backs to him as they peered at something on the desk, a scant inch between them. When Aziraphale’s voice reached them, Muriel whipped around with a guilty expression on their face and Crowley took his time to cover up whatever it was they had been looking at before turning around to face Aziraphale himself.
Aziraphale could tell from proximity alone that Crowley felt relaxed around Muriel, and for a moment his anger was replaced by a rush of jealousy. The pair were colluding on something, and yet Aziraphale hadn’t even realized that they were—well, whatever they were.
Crowley's hair was longer, but his clothes were still dark and tight and layered in ridiculous ways with pieces that Aziraphale was certain shouldn’t have gone together but always somehow looked good on him. His shades were firmly in place, and when he realized that Aziraphale felt better and then worse for feeling better because of it. It let him forgo the jealousy to focus back on his anger instead.
"You," Aziraphale hissed.
Crowley had the gall to look around the entirety of the bookshop before pointing at himself and raising his eyebrows as he feigned surprise.
“I invited him!” Muriel rushed to say, taking a step forward and slightly to the right in a poor attempt to hide Crowley’s body with their own. “That’s why he’s here, Supreme Archangel, sir. I had a question about—”
“You were David Tennant all along!”
Muriel cut themself off, frowning with confusion. Crowley let out a bark of laughter.
“Got your hands on the Book of Miracles, then?” Crowley smirked at him, “I wondered if you’d ever go through that.”
“You lied to me!” Aziraphale accused.
Crowley leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “When did I ever tell you that I wasn’t David Tennant.”
“You know what I mean!” Aziraphale whined, “You know how much I love Doctor Who! How much I loved Dav—well, you! I loved your run!”
“It was an interesting way to pass the time,” Crowley shrugged.
“I went to that con to meet—you!” Aziraphale wanted to rip his own hair out, “I almost cried when you signed my shirt for free!”
“It’s too bad you’re stuck up there without TV,” Crowley said slowly, a shit-eating grin blooming across his face. “I’m due to make a return soon.”
“You’re what?! Why?! Are you—”
Crowley snapped his fingers, “Bye, Aziraphale.”
“Bye, sir!” Muriel waved her hand.
And then Aziraphale lost the connection. He stared at the white wall that he could now clearly see in shock. Crowley was David Tennant. Crowley was working with Muriel. Crowley hung up on him.
Faintly, he knew that this was the last straw. This was all his sanity could take. He was either going to get the other Archangels to change their ways in the next two days or he was going to murder someone.