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No matter how far Crowley drove his Bentley, he always found his impossibly long journeys ending in front of a bookshop. It used to belong to an old friend, before falling under new management, and then permanently closing around twelve years later. Sometimes while driving, he found himself stuck in traffic, a consequence of his newfound habit of driving under the speed limit. What was the point of going fast if there was no one waiting for you when you got out? While it may seem rather odd that no one in London noticed the same car driving around none stop for a hundred years, it might be less surprising on account of the fact that no one regularly checks for such things.
Every time Crowley thought of anything prior to the last century, his memories became cloudy, as if every fiber of his being refused to remember it. And it’s not like he had been able to do much thinking during those hundred years either, as all that time was spent trying to repress old memories under lock and key, instead of making new ones. He knew no residents of the surrounding shops as he never bothered to step inside. He just knew all the humans who previously owned them were dead. He couldn't remember how long humans lived exactly, but he knew it wasn't that long.
For the first time in nearly a century, Crowley reluctantly sighed and forced himself to open his car door. Even though he told himself not a single part of him wanted to do this, the optimist within him had begun to rear its head once more, after all these years, and compelled him to proceed. He placed his hand on the door, breathed, and entered.
Ding.
The familiar ring of the bell began to awaken emotions buried deep within him. He continued forward. Every step brought him more pain, but also a sense of comfort he was not expecting. Despite everything and all the time that had passed, he couldn’t change the fact that he still loved the angel. He began scanning the shelves of the books, but he wasn’t checking too carefully. Throughout all its time open, the shop still hadn’t sold a single book, as if every customer who walked inside miraculously remembered they had a copy of the book sitting on their desk at home, and left straight away to go read it. The shelves were fuller than he remembered, now housing countless cobwebs and mounds of dust. Heaven clearly gave up on maintenance on this place years ago.
Crowley sat in an armchair left randomly in the middle of the floor. The rug over the summoning circle was all askew. Gazing at the shop through his sunglasses, he tried to breathe, but tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to leave, but thought it about time he faced what he was feeling.
He missed Aziraphale deeply. He wished he would just walk through that door right now. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. He looked at the shelf across from him. He knew those books. Those were the ones he saved for him that night in Germany, the night Aziraphale (well both of them really) performed at the West End. He looked over and saw the Jane Austen collection, still refusing to believe she actually wrote novels. He looked over at his desk and saw a cup of hot chocolate that had remained untouched after all this time. In the hundred years since Aziraphale abandoned him, he hadn’t once set foot on Earth.
Maybe Aziraphale never did love him, and he made it all up. That didn’t seem very likely, but then again, neither was anything else the universe threw at the two of them. Every part of him, but a very small fraction, wished he would come back here, understanding how wrong he was about everything. The very small fraction, however, understood that Aziraphale deserved to be happy. Maybe Crowley could find some peace in the universe if his angle finally felt content with his existence, instead of worrying all the time. Perhaps Heaven was able to give him something he could not. He presumed he would never know. He stayed seated in the armchair, head spinning.
-
Unfortunately for both of them, Aziraphale was in fact, not happy. He missed his of life on earth. He was violently craving a role of sushi from his favorite restaurant. He missed afternoons in his bookshop. And then there was the matter of the demon. Crowley. His mind was often plagued with intense, visceral memories of their last encounter. He found himself haunted by Crowley's pained expression. Of course he wanted to run away with Crowley that day, but he had always hoped Heaven would be able to change. He had since given up on that idea.
He currently had in front of him a basket he was unable to pick up. Inside, lay the child of God, sleeping. Aziraphale didn’t dare look at the baby’s face, knowing if he gazed into their eyes, he would be unable to follow through with what he was about to do. Heaven had refused every single one of his suggestions, forcing him to agree to ideas he wanted no part in. He had been charged with the task of delivering this baby to Earth. He knew the path of this child. They were to die by the age of 11, but will have accomplished more in their short lifespan for the glory of Heaven than any being to have come before it. And with their death, so would begin the death of the earth.
He had signed off on every point of this plan, but he hadn’t actually wanted to. But he wasn’t presented with much of a choice. He saw what happened to Gabriel. Although he tried to repress his memories of the demon, he would rather keep his memories behind lock and key forcing himself not to look at them, than have them cease to exist entirely. He selfishly thought he ought to be able to keep at least one thing from Earth.
“Kids? You can’t kill kids.” He heard Crowley’s voice echo in his head.
He found himself agreeing with the memory. “Quite right,” he thought. He thought about how the only thing stopping him from killing the antichrist all those years ago was the kindness of the human whose body he was inhabiting. He began to feel ill. If the antich-...Adam got the chance too grow up, surely God's child deserved the same.
Aziraphale knew he couldn’t allow heaven to destroy the earth. Sure, he loved Earth and Earthly things such as humanity, sushi, books… but he had to save it because of Crowley. Cast out of Hell and refusing to return to his Heavenly home, Earth was all he had left. The demon had always made an effort to blend in with the humans, having fun constantly changing his clothing and physical appearance. He found humor and joy in their way of life. Even if Aziraphale wasn’t happy in Heaven, Crowley deserved to always have Earth to keep him happy. And he clearly hadn't upset the Almighty with his previous interferences on Earth. Otherwise, why would he be archangel? He kept seeing Crowley’s face in is mind and instantly tried to re-focus his thoughts elsewhere.
It was time for Aziraphale to begin his plan. Well it wasn’t his plan, it was God’s. Everything else up until this point was part of Her ineffable plan, and this was no different. He would simply do what had happened last time: misplace the baby. Aziraphale was constantly telling himself that he was intending on giving God’s child to the correct couple. This is because it was easier than admitting he has spent the last few years finding the perfect alternative location for the baby that wouldn’t raise any suspicion.
Basket in hand, he began walking to the elevator, his breaths very shallow. He started to announce his departure, but found it best to keep quiet. Should things go awry, he wanted to still have plausible deniability. The voices within his head began berating to him, like they had done since the Garden of Eden.
You’re sinning! What if you’re wrong? You’re going to hell! What makes you think you can defy God? What if this time you’re wrong?
He continued to ignore them the best he could, although they still sent a physical sensation of unease throughout his body. The descent to Earth felt like an eternity. Well, no, not really. He began remembering the drunken conversation he had with Crowley all those years ago. The bird flying to the mountain to sharpen its beak wouldn’t even have time to blink before he arrived to Earth. He did not want to face the real eternity that would come after Armageddon.
Aziraphale straightened his tie as he descended. He had always despised the archangel outfit provided to him by Heaven. The pure white suit and tie didn’t leave much room for expression. He had hoped over time he would grow used to them, but he missed the comforting feel of his old earthly clothes. He wanted desperately to miracle them onto his body, but he was supposed to be conducting official business as an archangel and thought it best not to raise any more suspicion.
The elevator let him out at the destination picked by the Almighty Herself: a little town in the southern part of the United States. He had never bothered to learn the names of every individual state in that country, as he rarely chose to visit when he roamed the Earth.
As he stepped out of the elevator and into the Earthly air, he felt as though he was being reunited with a part of himself that had been lost for a very long time. He began walking. The house wasn’t far. The Almighty decided to take a more understated approach than last time, choosing not to announce Her child’s arrival to anyone, not even the parents. Aziraphale hadn’t realized just how much he missed Earth. As he was walking, he began admiring the trees and the birds. There were squirrels chasing each other. People were walking their dogs. All creatures great and small. He thought about the last attempted apocalypse. He was sure he was making the good and correct decision.
Soon, Aziraphale found himself standing in the street, next to the house. Every force of the universe was compelling, almost physically pushing him, to approach the house on his left: a small, unsuspecting looking home. He turned towards his right, to find the house looked nearly identical. Perhaps, if he had approached his destination from the other side, he could have confused the two. It would be an honest mistake.
The only visible differences were their choice of décor. The house God had chosen for Her child was adorned with several lawn signs of pictures of humans and names he didn’t recognize, and flying a flag this nation had chosen to represent itself. The one of the right flew a rainbow flag. Aziraphale liked rainbows. He thought fondly about the first one ever created. He knew God liked rainbows too. Maybe there as an error in the instructions given to him. After all, Aziraphale had found through his experiences on Earth that humans that chose to decorate with rainbows tended to be a good deal kinder towards others. God’s child deserved a loving home after all. As he turned to his right, the voices in his head grew even louder.
You’re sinning! What if you’re wrong? You’re going to hell! What makes you think you can defy God? What if this time you’re wrong?
Previously, he would have listened to them, but something had finally snapped deep within him. While working in Heaven, he had begun to think that perhaps it didn’t matter if Crowley was a demon, or at least it didn’t matter as much as he had previously thought. He decided for once in his existence, he was going to do something he wanted, not something he was told to do. He wanted to save Earth. He was doing this for Crowley.
With shaking hands, he ignored the voices as he had always done and carried the basket to the porch of what he was pretending was the right house. He followed every other instruction given to him to a tee. Simply place the basket on the porch and walk away. It was easy enough. He very gently lowered the basket towards the pavement, holding it tight in case he should need to quickly pick it up if someone were to see him. As the wicker made contact with the ground, he winced as if anticipating some big explosion or legions of Heavenly hosts suddenly appearing around him, ready to strike him down. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to find everything on Earth continuing as normal. He looked around and then back down the basket. He smiled both from surprise and pride. He had done it. He really had. And it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.
Oh, I simply must tell Crowley all about this! I bet he'll be so pleased!" Aziraphale thought.
You’re sinning! What if you’re wrong? You’re going to hell! What makes you think you can defy God? What if this time you’re wrong?
As he walked away from the house, with a quick and subtle flick of his finger, he found himself in Earthly clothes for the first time in a century. Ah. Much better. He smiled. Perhaps a few extra hours on Earth would go unnoticed. Now, to London.
Before transporting himself directly there, he continued to admire the Earth. He reached his hand out to place it onto the tree in the front of the lawn, but found it disappearing into smoke as he grabbed it. A confused expression crossed his face. He began instantly scanning his environment, only to discover that the entire world around him was disappearing into smoke. He ran back to try and protect the baby, who was now crying, but as he reached out to grab it, it too became nothing but smoke as its cries faded into nothingness.
Oh dear. Oh my God. Aziraphale thought. You’re sinning! What if you’re wrong? You’re going to hell! What makes you think you can defy God? What if this time you’re wrong? You’ve sinned! What if you’ve always been wrong? You’re going to hell! What makes you think you can defy God? What did I do wrong? I have sinned! Was I wrong? I’m going to hell! What made me think I could defy God? This time, I was wrong!
The voices grew louder and louder and eventually he heard one that was not his own. Earth was now completely gone. He found himself alone in a dark corner of space, with the closest stars being the faintest of specks, millions of miles away from him.
“AZIRAPHALE!” God.
He felt his wings being forced to reveal themselves. He was unable to stop it as much as he tried. His clothes began transforming into the robe he wore during the creation of the universe. Now there was no universe. He looked around for anything, but his eyes were met with only blackness. He floated there, with his wings outstretched, feeling exposed, like a butterfly pinned to a board, and feeling very alone.
“Aziraphale, why have you knowingly disobeyed me?” the voice inquired. “I gave you very clear and simply instructions. What makes you think you are above me? That you can defy me?”
His mind began racing, thinking of a way to ask what had happened to the Earth. Why everything had faded away. He knew what he wanted to say, but before he could begin to think about how to formulate it, he was being replied to.
“The existence of Earth has not changed. Your existence however…”
He began to feel pain on the edges of his wings, as if they were heating up.
“You wanted to save my child? My child does not need saving. I know what is best for them, and they knew what lies before them. Do you want to know what will happen to them now that you have stripped them of my care and so carelessly thrust them into yours? Here is what their future holds.”
Aziraphale's mind was filled with visions.
A crib.
“All of this could have been avoided.”
The Christ child sleeping peacefully. A fire. A big fire. Swallowing everything in sight.
“You have killed my child!”
The parents screaming for each other and for their baby. Helpless.
“You have killed the child you were trying so desperately to save!”
The pile of ashes that remain after. The funerals. The heartbreak.
“All because you did not listen to me!”
The pain in his wings was now accompanied by the most agonizing emotional torment. How could he have let himself get so carried away? He looked to his side, and realized the fire from the visions was now dancing on the tip of his wings, slowly spreading downwards. He closed his eyes in pain, only to find the visions replaying on the back of his eyelids. He opened them. He had never known such fear in all of his existence.
“I command the people of the Earth to not love their Earthly things more than me. The same applies to my angles as well.”
Aziraphale could feel his physical being begin morphing. For an entity who was previously incapably of feeling physical pain, he began feeling it in the worst of ways, in unfathomable proportions.
“Do you love the Earth so much more than me that you would take my child way from me? Do you not trust me enough to care for you? All I ask is you put me before all else!”
He began to writhe in agony, finding himself wrapping his arms over his chest, but it alleviated nothing. The fire on his wings continued burning, slowly making its way towards his back. He could feel his halo shrinking around his head as it withered away into nothingness. As the holiness left his body, it burned. He had to shut his eyes. The visions returned. He began crying. The tears singed his face as they found their escape. He began to hate himself for everything he had ever done that had got him into this situation and stayed frozen on this path of self-loathing. He knew he was only experiencing the surface level horrors of Hell, terrified for what would come next.
“You may be wondering why this time? Why now? I have seen every little thing you have done, Aziraphale. Your excessive stash of earthly goods in that shop. The ox you, and you alone, ate in its entirety. Every time you fed the body I gave you with food and drink. The way you tried to kill the The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of The Earth, and Lord of Darkness, only to be stopped by the human you were using as a vessel. The way you helped to change the structure of the universe to save that very same boy. The body snatching. Job’s children. Every temptation you performed for the demon Crowley. Every blessing he did for you. The kisses you two shared. I didn’t mind any of that. Who do you think allowed him to walk on the consecrated ground of a church just so he could see you? I put those things there for you to have. But now you have hurt my child. And in hurting My child, you have hurt humanity. You have hurt all of my children! Have you forgotten? I only continue to send my child to Earth because I so love the world.”
The tears began to flow harder from Aziraphale’s eyes. He had only wanted to save the Earth. Now he had doomed everything. He had spent his entire existence worrying for nothing. God gave him the ox to eat. She gave him books and the shop. She knew Crowley helped him save Job’s children. She knew about Crowley. “I put those things there for you.” He now understood. She had given Crowley to him, and him to Crowley. He was in so much pain and distress he could barely think.
The fire continued to spread down his wings, the heat scorching his body. There were only a few feathers that remained untouched. The pain forced him to kneel, even though there was no ground for his legs to rest on. Tears were still streaming down his face. He could feel his connection to God and Heaven slowly severing. His mind began filling with more intense desires and horrid thoughts than he had ever had before. His head hung low and he was unable to raise it. With his arms still wrapped around his chest, each gripping tightly onto the other, Aziraphale began to muster up all his strength and began to desperately cry out, not to God, but to someone else, in the vain hope that maybe he would come and rescue him one final time.
“c-cr- crO… crowley... CROWLEY!!!”
He was no longer kneeling on empty space. His wings grew heavy. Everything felt heavy, actually. He was falling. He could see Hell. He knew where he was going. He didn't want this. He wasn’t ready. Crowley couldn’t save him now.
But before the final feather on Aziraphale’s back was singed, he felt God reach out to him, in one final act of kindness, as if She was somehow moved by his cry of desperation. It filled him with the worst sadness he had ever known, because he knew it would be the final time he would feel Her love. He was so exhausted from transforming, he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. He could feel her taking him somewhere else, somewhere away from Hell, somewhere…familiar, but didn’t have the strength to care where. As the last feather on his wings caught fire, the hellfire reached his back. The impact it had on his body was as if he was being forcefully slammed into the ground from a great height. He let out a cry of agony. Then there was nothing.
-
A very dazed Aziraphale found himself standing in front of his bookshop, back in his Earthly clothes. A.Z. Fell. That’s right. That's who he was. His memory was fuzzy. Out of habit, he opened the door, completely disregarding the fact that he was no longer the owner of the bookshop and that the “closed” sign had been up for decades.
Ding.
The sound of the bell over the door. He had missed it so much. His mind was flooded with memories of the shop.
“We’re CLOSED,” the person seated in a chair facing away from the door snapped. Although it wasn’t a person at all. Aziraphale recognized the voice as soon as he heard it. Crowley. Unsure of how to proceed, he attempted to apologize in the only way he knew how, although it didn't seem entirely appropriate.
“Seems I owe you an apology dance…” He said weakly.
Crowley turned around and removed his sunglasses. He looked on in horror as Aziraphale stumbled through the doorway. Trailing behind him were his wings, although instead of the usual white feathers spreading light to humanity, they were an inky black, spreading darkness and night. Crowley stood up in utter disbelief, unsure how to proceed. He felt overwhelmed with sadness and confusion. He knew Aziraphale had loved being an angel and never thought the Almighty would take that away from him. “What the heaven happened???” he thought to himself.
“Angel?” he asked, hoping by some miracle it was someone else. Crowley remembered falling very viscerally and his heart shattered upon learning Aziraphale had gone through the same thing.
Aziraphale still hated the idea of lying, despite his new status, and attempted to correct Crowley’s statement. “Not so much anymore, I’m afraid,” he chuckled.
He was attempting to bring some sense of levity to the situation, but knew he failed. He heard the words that had left his own mouth. As his mind began to wake up more, he began to understand and make sense of what had just happened to him. He took inventory of his body, and understood he was forever changed. He still physically ached. It was all so overwhelming. He began to take another step forward, but collapsed. Crowley ran forward to catch him. The two knelt on the ground. Aziraphale couldn’t help but sink into his arms. He leaned is body into Crowley's, resting his head in the crook of his neck, feeling more at home in Crowley's embrace than he ever had in Heaven.
“You idiot…” Crowley began. His arms wrapped tightly around Aziraphale, never wanting to let go. Aziraphale now understood how comforting it was to be held and wished he could stay like this forever. “You’ll always be my angel.”