Chapter Text
It was an ordinary day in Heaven. Lifeless, empty corridors remained as silent as ever. The only sound emanated from the Supreme Archangel's office, where Aziraphale's voice could be heard, singing. Aziraphale enjoyed humming human songs while working on tasks. At that moment, he was immersed in calculating the orbital motion of the Solar System's planets. It appeared that some of them were attempting to break free from their orbits around the Sun. And as he worked, he softly hummed a Frank Sinatra song, “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.”
Lately, he found solace in singing, just as he dedicated himself to his tasks. The words on the paperwork and the lyrics of the songs occupied his mind, leaving no room for thoughts of anything else. After becoming the Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale ended up spending lots of time in Heaven, but not in the way he had planned. He had hoped to make changes in the system, but time passed without much progress. Furthermore, he didn’t even know how many days or months or maybe even years passed on Earth because the Heaven Time Zone worked differently from Earthly ones.
His initial plan was to earn everyone’s respect and trust. Then, he was going to convince them to not start any more Armageddon. He wanted to show them how beautiful the Earth was, and how wonderful humanity was. That would change their minds, he hoped. Yet, ever since he came to duty, the only thing he was able to do was work on the stupid paperwork. His days were filled with scheduling and fixing minor anomalies, like the sudden appearance of odd fish in the Atlantic. In addition, whenever he tried to talk about his perspective on the Second Coming to the Metatron, they ignored him. Eventually, they shut him up by warning him that it was not his place to judge The Almighty’s plans and that if he kept talking about this to them or to anyone else in the future, he was going to be banished. It did shut him up, in the end. He wasn’t gonna give up easily, of course, he was waiting for an opportunity, in the process of planning, if I must say so.
His dedication was unwavering, but his heart ached for Crowley. The longing remained a constant reminder of the sacrifice he had made for a greater purpose —a purpose that he wasn’t even able to initiate. The emptiness accompanied his daily duties, he had never felt lonelier in a place full of people —angels, rather. He didn’t feel regret, he still held onto his belief that maybe, someday in the future, he could fix Heaven. But he had missed him so terribly.
“Your beautitudes?” A familiar voice came behind his office door. The door slid open, revealing Michael’s presence. They stepped inside, and the frown on their face showed their continued dislike for Aziraphale. Still, they had no other choice but to obey. “We’ve got some news for you.”
“Hmm,” he said, keeping his eyes on the paper in his hands. Not that he enjoyed making a deal with planets, their wishes were just so unrealistic, but he didn’t like making eye contact with Michael. They always looked at him as if Aziraphale was an annoying stain on their shirt they wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. Lately, this feeling seemingly grew stronger due to Aziraphale taking the role they had well deserved and always wanted as the supreme archangel. “What is it?”
“Hell is under a new management. A new Lord of Hell came to duty.” Michael informed him.
“Ah, yes. Shax, is it?” Aziraphale wasn’t interested, because it was not something he heard for the first time. He knew this was going to happen after Beelzebub ran away with Gabriel. Beelzebub personally had offered their position to Demon Shax.
“No,” they said, taking a step closer to Aziraphale’s desk. “It’s someone else.”
Aziraphale looked up, and carefully asked, “Who?”
“Well, we don’t know, but they say Satan himself promoted them.” Michael was whispering, their nervousness was apparent.
Aziraphale leaned back in his seat, stomping his one foot on the floor. Now, that was interesting. Satan wouldn’t promote just someone, or simply, he wouldn’t promote anyone. “Tell me more.”
“Aziraphale—“ They sighed, straightening their posture and putting on their most confident tone. “I heard this new Lord of Hell was one of the most powerful ones, a prince, and they demand a meeting with you to discuss the Armageddon. Since you’re new, I believe it’d be better if I handle this one.”
“No,” Aziraphale answered, flatly. “I can take care of it.” It was true that he was new to this job and hadn't been around for centuries except the times when he was still reporting his good deeds to Heaven. Nor did he have any idea about bureaucracy and often didn't understand a thing about the paperwork sent to him. But that didn't mean that Aziraphale would allow Michael to obtrude themselves with such insidious plans and displace him. Of course, Michael deserved to be the supreme archangel, but they were still a bad angel just like the others. They were one of those who approved the Armageddon —both, and wanted to start a war with Hell. If Aziraphale didn't want any other Armageddon to happen, he could not entrust his place to them or anyone else.
“But they want to meet today, you still don’t know anything about the Second Coming!” Michael protested.
Aziraphale smiled. “Today? Huh,” he said, as he fixed his grey bowtie and straightened up. “Then, I should get ready. At which hour, you said?”
“At two o’clock in Heaven Time Zone,” grumbled Michael.
“Thank you for informing me, Michael,” he said, swallowing. He got up from his chair and tidied himself up. “You can leave now.”
“Yes,” they said, leaving as they kept staring at him with angry eyes.
The moment they left the office, Aziraphale gave a loud exhale. He didn't have the luxury of showing weakness around Michael, but now that they were gone, he might start to panic. He was about to meet with a very powerful demon about an Armageddon he knew nothing about. I wish Crowley was here, he thought. He always knows how to handle situations like this better than I do. Then, the thought of Crowley caused a twang in his heart.
Ever since he took the job, he tried his best to keep his thoughts away from Crowley. Every time Crowley's distant look lingered in his mind —the look just before he stepped onto the elevator, he felt horrible. Unlike usual, Crowley hadn’t left, he had stayed and waited for him. He did his best to change Aziraphale’s mind, but what Crowley didn’t get was that Aziraphale accepted the job because of him. He wanted a better life for both of them. To spend eternity together, without any fear. It was the hardest decision he had ever made. He hesitated many times and was almost turning back to run away with Crowley. Until he heard about the Second Coming.
Leaving Crowley behind pained him, but he also struggled with the sting of Crowley's rejection. Except, deep down, he couldn't bring himself to be truly mad at someone so dear to him. Though they could have ended all of this together, Crowley's heart seethed with hatred for Heaven, the hatred that blinded him. He didn't even hesitate to break Aziraphale's heart. Moreover, he had kissed Aziraphale like humans do, introducing Aziraphale to another earthly pleasure again, only to leave him to confront it alone.
Aziraphale's heart was wrenched as he remembered the kiss. The feelings he felt because of this newfound pleasure, experienced only briefly, were too heavy. It reminded him of the first time he tasted human food. He was a glutton, he couldn't get enough. He was not satisfied with only a single bite back then, nor he was satisfied with a solitary kiss now. That was the hardest part of being separated from Crowley. Just like an initial taste that leaves you wanting more, Aziraphale ached to taste those lips again. It was an insatiable craving that consumed him.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, unconsciously. As an angel, he didn’t swear much. It was only when he was frustrated enough, and now, he was quite frustrated. He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his palms. He didn't know what to do. He had an important meeting ahead of him, but he was sitting in his office thinking about Crowley's kiss. He was not suitable for this job, he was never suitable for this job. Leaving Crowley was a mistake, but he had no choice. His only solace was daydreaming about resigning when he had completed his mission, and that's when he would return to Crowley. He would go back to him without a second thought, without looking back, and they would be happy together forever.
***
The meeting was set to take place in the office of the new Lord of Hell. So basically, in Hell. The presence of other Archangels was deemed undesirable, and only an assistant angel could accompany Aziraphale. With everyone being quite occupied, convening the entire board for the meeting was not doable anyway. Still, the idea of wandering in the corridors of Hell with only a cherub by his side unsettled him. The memory of his last visit, when he was in Crowley's body and faced an attempt on his life, haunted him. It was a dreadful experience he had no desire to relive. Yet, here he stood, facing that nightmare once more.
The cherub in question was named Cassiel. Though he didn't know them very well, this angel was known for his hard work and loyal assistance. They had a male presenting body, wearing a camel trenchcoat, white shirt and a blue tie. Despite looking relatively youthful in their human body, the agelessness within their eyes revealed the depth of their angelic existence. Cassiel was experienced, they worked with the Archangels for a long time. This meant Aziraphale could never trust them. He was sure that his words would reach Metatron's ears the moment he voiced his intention to stop Armageddon in the presence of the angel.
These were the thoughts that crossed his mind as they walked through the halls of Hell. It was good that he wasn't going to be alone when he met with the new Lord of Hell for the first time, but Cassiel's companion was just as unsettling for him. In an attempt to avert the stressful thoughts, he started to look around. Not much had changed since his last visit. Hell was not so different from some places on Earth. It looked like a crowded marketplace on a Sunday afternoon, except for the rotten bodies aimlessly wandering in its narrow corridors. The place was dim, reechy, had nowhere to step, and the walls were covered with demotivating posters. In contrast to the popular belief, there were no big scary pools of flames, but the reality was worse than that. This was a place that consumed people from the inside. Cold, lonely and gloomy.
With each step, the unease within Aziraphale grew. He tried to ignore the gazes of the demons around them, but after destroying nearly seventy of their folks, it was impossible not to worry. Maybe that's why the new Lord of Hell wanted to meet him, for revenge. He knew diplomacy didn’t function that way, even demons wouldn't assassinate Supreme Archangel in such a nefarious scheme, but Aziraphale had read too many books in his life and now his anxiety was at its peak.
When they arrived at the Lord’s office, a familiar demon greeted them: Furfur. He was standing in front of the door like a guard, staring at them with narrowed eyes. “What is your purpose for coming,” he asked as if the answer were not obvious.
“We are here for a meeting with the new Lord of Hell,” Aziraphale said, coldly. He had never liked this guy, not that he liked any demon apart from Crowley in the first place. But the problem with this particular demon was more of a personal matter. Furfur was the one who tried to lay an ambush against them 82 years ago, and not only that but he was clearly obsessed with them. Or obsessed with Crowley, so they say. The very idea of this demon approaching anywhere near Crowley was enough to get Aziraphale’s blood boil with rage. Fortunately, this new Lord seemed to have promoted him, so he wouldn't have time to stalk Crowley anymore. At least that was good news.
“The Prince of Hell is busy,” he said, folding his arms on his chest and not moving away from the entrance. “You have to wait.”
“For how long?” Cassiel asked, exasperatedly. He had informed Aziraphale about this before they came, that in Hell, they make you wait for hours and for nothing.
“Let me check,” said Furfur, in return. He took out a notebook from his pocket, slowly skimmed through all the pages, and finally stopped at one page. “For three hours, at least.”
“What?!” Aziraphale squawked. This was nonsense, it was already 2 o’clock and he wasn’t going to wait for three hours. “No, the meeting is supposed to start now. Let us in.”
As Furfur rolled his eyes and parted his lips to say something, the office door opened on its own. Another demon, Hastur —sadly, Aziraphale knew him, either, stepped out from the office, walking backwards. “Your disgrace,” he said, head bowed with respect —or fear, Aziraphale wasn’t sure. When Hastur walked away far enough from the door, he looked up and locked eyes with Aziraphale. The expression of disgust on his face was mutual. He and Aziraphale stared at each other with hatred for a few seconds. Then, Hastur walked away without a word, and a voice was heard from within, “Send them inside!”
The voice was too familiar. Familiar enough to make Aziraphale shudder. Before his mind could put a name on the owner of the voice, Furfur quickly pulled away from the door and led them inside. And from the moment he walked in, his mind didn't need to put a name on it anymore, because the owner of the voice was right in front of him now and he knew the name very well: Crowley.