Chapter Text
As the days turned into months, Aziraphale began to see the cracks within Heaven’s seemingly perfect halls. For one, they banned him from returning to Earth without their approval. He’d thought since he was appointed to his new position of power that he could go down whenever he would like, but the Metatron was very controlling of this. He would always say that going down to Earth was “a waste of valuable time” or “Why be down there when you could be helping plan the Second Coming?” This aggravated Aziraphale. At one point, he had tried to use the elevator to head back to Earth, to see if he really lost access to it. To his demise, the elevator squawked at him, telling him that it was restricted access.
During the many agonizingly long meetings, The Metatron would constantly ask what the state of the Earth was. Uriel was now in charge of making more storms appear and more disasters occurring on the poor planet. In a sickening way, they seemed to enjoy it. Michael would occasionally go down to Earth to check on the humans periodically and report their happenings. Usually, they would report back protests, fights, and some minor wars occurring all around the globe. Aziraphael remembered asking them if they were acquainted with any humans, only to reply with a confused look, almost as if they weren’t sure. They never answered him, though. Saraqael continued their duties filling out numerous amounts of paperwork and documenting all of the population of the Earth daily. The Metatron insisted to Aziraphale that it was important to keep track of the population for the final countdown during the destruction of the Second Coming. Something to do with a “final tally” of some sort. (That comment in particular made Aziraphale sick to his stomach for days, thinking that the other angels thought of the Earth as nothing but cattle). As for Sandalphon, he was always tasked to write out all of the meetings in full detail and to track all of the disasters that occurred up to this point on Earth.
Aziraphale always questioned whether The Metatron and the other angels were playing some sick game of life on the poor mortals for their own amusement. It felt wrong, but he never dared to say his true feelings aloud.
On this particular day, the angel was alone with only his thoughts. The other archangels never spoke to him, and when they did, it was only for simple things or during their weekly meetings. Hours dragged on in his head, and thoughts of his time on Earth flooded through like a welcoming open bonfire. It felt comforting, gentle, and intense. The echoes of the past began to replay in his head. From the interactions with the many creatures on Earth to the times he had stepped into various shops and libraries. Aziraphale’s thoughts began to spiral in a bitter-sweet wave of emotion within his mind. The faces of the humans, both positive and negative, made him feel grief and sorrow. The creatures of Earth never deserved the horrific punishments of The Almighty. He had known that ever since the Fallen descended to the undercrust of the Earth. He had known that since the Ark, since the Plagues, Armageddon, and so on. Aziraphale knew. And over time, he began to feel the dread, the guilt, and the pain of the humans around him. He had developed what many angels couldn’t.
Aziraphale could feel.
Lifting his head up from his desk, Aziraphale glanced upwards at the ceiling above. He could feel his heart aching in his chest. It pounded through like an angry hornet’s nest. He knew he was wrong to choose Heaven, he knew he was mistaken for leaving the Earth he had come to love and even call home. His friends must be so confused in regards to his disappearance, and Muriel must be even more confused with now living on Earth and having to adjust there quickly. But the one thing that pained him the most, the one fact that made him start to feel a wet sensation in the corners of his eyes was knowing what he had done and said to Crowley over the years.
“You idiot,” Crowley said, his eyes furrowing with dismay and heartache. “We could have been just… Us.”
Aziraphale leaned back into his white office chair, his hands placed over his eyes as the water began to leak out. A hitch and gasp escaped his lips as he finally began to sob for the first time in all of his existence. He almost felt this way after the war with the Fallen, the thousands, if not, millions of tragedies that have occurred on Earth, and when he was kissed by Crowley.
“I forgive you,” Aziraphale said in a breathless hurry, his eyes widened with sadness and anxiety.
“Don’t bother,” Crowley muttered before exiting the bookshop, heading towards the Bentley in almost a rush.
How could he have been so stupid? He could have rejected the offer and thought about what Crowley had wanted. Of course, the demon wouldn’t want to return to Heaven after all that had happened between the pair. Between being almost burnt by hellfire and disintegrated by holy water, it made absolute sense. Aziraphale only wanted Crowley to be happy, to return to his once happy state of mind among the stars, to see him smile. But now, it was a realization discovered all too late. Aziraphale was trapped in Heaven, away from the Earth he loves with all of his heart, and away from the one being that showed him to feel and to live. To eat. To drink. To love.
Aziraphale wiped the tears from his eyes. It took him this long to finally figure out his genuine emotions and feelings. If only he could have done it sooner. And with no new reports of the demon on anyone’s radars, it felt almost hopeless. Well, better late than never, he supposed.
There had to be something he could do to escape, to return his access back to Earth, right? It couldn’t all be so bleak and hopeless until the Second Coming went into full action. There had to be something he could do. Aziraphale had already delayed the original start date of it to a year and five months later due to “uneven numbers of the population” and “not enough natural disasters taking place at once”. This gave him time to plan, for now.
Picking up the vanilla envelope that held the documents for the now fully planned Second Coming, Aziraphale rubbed the fine paper between his fingers in wonder. Sure, he was restricted from leaving Heaven’s gates, but what if he used a miracle to erase all of Heaven and Hell’s memories of not only his appearance but his very existence? He could hypothetically become nothing more to the Book of Life than a simple myth. And what if it wasn’t just on him that he did it to protect, but to Crowley as well? It would give them full access to free-range miracles. Surely, it couldn’t be that difficult to do again, could it? That way, he would regain full access to Earth as an anonymous angel and erase all traces of himself, his miracles, everything. It would take a lot out of him, but it would all be worth it. For not only his sake but for Crowley’s as well. Everyone on both sides could forget, other than Muriel, who resided at his bookshop, Crowley, Beelzebub, and Gabriel since they were still living on Earth as far as he was aware.
They would be free.
Aziraphale nodded to himself in contentment before rising up from his chair. He placed the vanilla envelope into his light-gray waistcoat and headed towards the elevator. He selected the second to the highest floor and waited patiently. He didn’t know if Nina and Maggie would ever understand why he had left, to try and make a change. But if he could at least escape Heaven and return to Earth, that was all he truly needed. A nice restart to reconnect with them and try to find Crowley.
Once on the second to the highest floor, Aziraphale looked around cautiously. He couldn’t feel anyone else's presence nearby, only on the several hundred other floors below himself. As far as he had known, the Metatron was in a meeting with The Almighty for the next few hours. Taking a breath, he stepped out of the elevator and placed one hand on his waistcoat’s opening, and the other on the edge of the hem. He was nervous, of course. What he was doing was traitorous, scandalous even. He could even be erased from the Book of Life if he was ever discovered by Heaven on what he was planning. But that was the point. He wanted nothing more to do with Heaven and the toxic fumes of dread and despair. He had enough of the harassment, the harmful remarks about his appearance and status, even now as the Supreme Archangel. He had enough of the pain for the next six thousand years.
Reaching a narrow right corner and approaching yet another white desk in the middle of the room, he turned to the multiple screens that hovered around him. He took a shallow breath. He needed this to work, he prayed silently to himself to let this work. Turning back to the desk, he turned on the keyboard that lay before him. The easy part was finding this room, the hard part was erasing every trace of himself. Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated on the miracle he was about to perform. This would change everything for Heaven. Turning both Crowley and himself into nothing more than myths was a huge risk. It could destroy their existence if one were to figure it out. But he was willing to take it to reach his loved ones even if it were for a small moment. He knew that no other angels or demons were currently on Earth at the moment.
Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he snapped his fingers, the sound echoing throughout Heaven’s walls. He opened his eyes and looked around, hoping that the miracle had worked. Going onto the screen’s memory files, Aziraphale began to delete each and every trace of what he had done as swiftly as he could. His mind was rushing with anxiety and thoughts of his demise for betraying Heaven in such a way. But he knew it wouldn’t matter anymore. He would soon be home free.
Deleting the final footage off the screens, Aziraphale exhaled a breath he had been holding in for a moment. He then searched throughout the files of the computer, seeing if his and Crowley’s names were to pop up on the database. To his relief, all of the databases only referred to Aziraphale as “The Watcher of the Eastern Gate”. He let out a small squee in delight as the files stated that there were no traces of either “The Watcher of the Eastern Gate” or another celestial being called “The Serpent of Temptation”. They had seemingly vanished out of history, according to the database.
Everything was going according to plan so far. Only one more thing to do: interact with the other archangels and request to go to Earth to observe the state of the humans.
As calmly as he could, Aziraphale returned to the elevator and selected the floor that reached the archangels’ offices. He waited patiently in the small space, closing his eyes and trying to think of the many things that he had missed on Earth. Indeed, this plan couldn’t be this easy, right? Erasing all recordings and memories of Crowley and himself’s existence, turning them into myths, it felt like a dream. Before he reached his destination, he performed one minor miracle to make Michael remember that he had assigned an angel to investigate the Earth’s weather patterns for “old times’ take.”
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, being greeted by a very relaxed Uriel. Well, as much as they could be, Aziraphale supposed. They looked at him in a bit of confusion before stepping towards him. The angel felt a shiver go up his spine as Uriel began to speak.
“Who are you? State your business,” they said almost irritatingly,
Aziraphale almost jumped in shock. Was Uriel playing some kind of trick? No, he thought. Uriel always looked tense when meeting another minor angel. As an archangel, it was almost too normal for them to act in that manner. Right, he thought in a quick haze. He needed a new identity. Aziraphale cleared his throat and relaxed his shoulders before calmly saying, “Akrasiel, 20th order scrivener. I was informed by Michael that there was a need to observe the various weather patterns.” He took a breath and relaxed his mind before adding, “Something about tracking them for old times’ sake.”
Uriel stepped back and nodded before folding their arms a bit, their body becoming less tense. They then hummed, “Very well, I will give you full access to Earth in that case on behalf of the archangels.” They snapped their fingers toward the elevator as it opened behind Aziraphale. A green light emitted from the small space, officially granting him access. "If there are any unnatural happenings or anything abnormal, miracle or whatnot, please report it to me." Stepping away from the angel, Uriel walked back to their desk before adding, “Don’t get yourself discorporated, now. Feel free to use as many miracles as you’d like. At this point, there is no use for tracking them as often anymore.” Uriel paused a moment before continuing, “Those earthquakes and hurricanes are becoming more intense. And for once, they aren’t caused by me. Climate change, the humans call it. I call it less work, though. Now, off with you.”
And with that, Aziraphale bowed his head a little before turning around, heading back into the elevator, and selecting Earth. For once, access was granted to him. Now all he had to do was wait. He let his thoughts wander a bit as he went further down. What would Nina and Maggie be up to and how would they react to seeing him again? Will they be angry? Curse at him? Ban him from their stores? And how was Muriel adjusting to the Earthly lifestyle? Do they like it? And most importantly, how and where was Crowley? Did he stay in Soho and find a small house for himself? How was he feeling? Would he try and fight Aziraphale off for even trying to apologize for his wrongdoings?
That question in particular made Aziraphale grab onto the side of his waistcoat, almost for dear life. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, then out. No, he thought. He can’t let his fears control him. He had let them control and dictate his life for over a millennia, and now things will change. For himself, for Earth. For the ones, he held dearest to himself.
For Crowley.
Aziraphale opened his eyes again and was welcomed by the smells of the Earth. He felt relief, happiness, and almost giddy at the same time. He was back in Soho, back on Whickber Street, and right across the street from his beloved bookshop. Exiting the elevator that now changed back into an ordinary door, Aziraphale looked around at the many people bustling by on the streets. He looked up at the sky and smiled brightly before softly whispering to himself,
“I’m home.”