Work Text:
As supreme archangel, Aziraphale didn't have to participate in The Final Battle. And frankly, he hadn't wanted to. He didn't have the heart for it. And now, he actually had the authority to refuse the order. So, he didn't fight. He waited for all that to be done with, before going down to Earth again. It all lasted a decade.
He wanted to say goodbye, in a way, before properly starting eternity in two days. He wanted to stop by his favorite spaces, pay his respects to whatever was left of said places. It wasn't much. Rubble from buildings he barely recognized. If he was lucky, pieces of a sign which told him what had once stood there. A vast wasteland is what stared back at him. Everywhere he went, just an empty, destroyed field. He almost didn't have the heart to see the depressing state the ground which once held his bookshop must be in. But he also knew he would regret it if he went back to Heaven without checking.
And when he got there, his jaw nearly dropped. There was a massive crater where Soho once stood. But that wasn't what broke his heart. What broke his heart was the fact that towering over the crater, right at the center of it, was a giant pillar of earth, holding his, seemingly, still intact bookshop.
But how?
The angel flew to the column and landed on what used to be the sidewalk. Very cracked and starting to crumble, but the closer it was to the shop, the better it had been preserved. Cautiously, he stepped closer to the front door. It looked just as clean as the day he left it. No dirt, no smudges, absolutely nothing to show as evidence of the obvious catastrophe which destroyed the surrounding area.
He looked at the front door. The sign with his opening hours was still there, next to the closed sign. For a moment, he felt a familiar presence. He ignored the feeling as he was about to reach for the door handle and both doors swung open for him. Strange. He hadn't ordered them to do that. It was as if the shop was welcoming him back home.
As soon as he entered, he felt overwhelmed by love. Which probably shouldn't have been too surprising. He had loved this shop since 1800. It'd only be natural for his love to still be here. Except, angles can't sense their own love. They can feel it for things and people, just like humans do, but their own love for things and people? They can't sense it like they would anyone else's. Basically, every angel had an internal love radar which could be used on others, but not on themselves.
So, it wasn't his love he felt as he walked through the bookshop and upstairs flat. But he did recognize whose it was. Even seconds before he saw a familiar figure come down from the spiral staircase.
A soft smirk tugged at the figure’s lips. "Hello, Aziraphale." He said, voice strangely echoey.
"Crowley?"
"...Not as such." He said, before stepping closer. As he did this, the light coming from the nearest window shone right through him. He looked like a ghostly apparition. Fairly similar to Aziraphale when he had been discorporated.
Aziraphale's eyes became glassy. "What happened to you?"
"To me? Nothing. To the Crowley you knew? A lot."
The archangel felt like he had just been punched in the gut. "What do you mean 'the Crowley I knew'? Where is he? What's happened to him?"
"You might wanna sit down, angel." Said the ghostly figure, pulling a chair closer to the angel.
Aziraphale was glad he did as told, because the explanation 'Crowley' provided almost floored him.
~~~~~
The real Crowley had raced to the shop as soon as The Final Battle began. He used dozens of miracles to protect the building. It had started out with two force fields: the one over the bookshop and the one over the Bentley, just outside. At one point, he wasn't strong enough to keep them both up. He hated to do so, but he had to sacrifice the Bentley in order to ensure he'd keep the shop intact.
The Soho crater had been the result of celestial bombs being dropped all over the area. Those weakened the demon very much. Even still, he stood his ground at the very center of the shop. He was the only thing keeping everything together. He stayed that way for over 6 years. Eventually, his body gave out.
His essence, on the other hand, persisted. It was a mixture of sheer will, determination, imagination and love. Even without his body, he was equally powerful. But around the 8th year of The Final Battle, something changed. He didn't feel as strong as before. He blamed it on not having a corporation anymore.
He couldn't risk anything happening to the bookshop. He just couldn't. He had to do something, and fast. So he focused all his power into merging with the shop's structure. It was the best chance either of them had to endure.
'Crowley' was created by the original Crowley's hope. In case Aziraphale were to return, someone had to be there to explain what had happened. How his home was still here. Why his friend wasn't quite there anymore. And how he kind of was.
~~~~~
"He wanted to prove his love for you would last forever." Said 'Crowley'.
Aziraphale was sobbing, painfully. He really had ruined everything. If he had just stayed on Earth... "He did all of this for me, and I can't even thank him or apologize properly." His breath hitched.
The ghost crossed his arms. "He knows."
The chubby being sniffled, wiping away his tears. "But I never got to tell him..."
"Technically, you still can. His essence is the reason everything is still here. Say anything in here and he'll hear it."
Aziraphale forced a laugh. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"
'Crowley' shook his head.
Aziraphale let out a very shaky exhale. He didn't know whether to say it to 'Crowley' or to the shop itself. So he closed his eyes.
"Crowley, I... I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough for you. I should have listened. You were right. You usually were, but I was always too scared and too stupid to-"
"Don't do that." He heard 'Crowley' say.
"Do what? I'm trying to apologize and confess my feelings. Didn't you just say he could hear-"
"Don't call yourself stupid. You're not. Far from it. Fiercely intelligent, you are."
It hurt that this apparition had all of the real Crowley's memories, but he wasn't truly him. It had been by design. Crowley hadn't wanted Aziraphale to feel lied to. That’s why this clone was always aware that he was a copy of his essence.
Aziraphale opened his eyes and more tears spilled as he looked at the ghostly figure. "I wish you were really him. I think I'd fare easier."
"Sorry... Look, I know it wasn't the sorta thing you did but, I think you could use a nap. I really think it could help." Said 'Crowley', extending his hand.
Aziraphale tried taking it, but it mostly phased through. Still, there was enough resistance from this form for 'Crowley' to lead him to the old sofa. The archangel lied down, still mulling over a million questions in his head.
"Just sleep..." ‘Crowley’ told him, waving his hand over his eyes. Aziraphale wasn't sure if it had been thanks to a miracle or something else, but he went under quite fast. "...and dream, angel."
~~~~~
Aziraphale opened his eyes and found himself sitting at his desk. Strange. Last he recalled, he had fallen asleep at the sofa, not his desk. He looked out the window, into the street. Then he immediately realized there was a street again! A street and buildings and people and Crowley's Bentley! It was all back! But how?
"Hello, angel." He heard Crowley say from behind him. He turned and there he was. Just as corporeal as the last time he saw him.
The demon smiled at him. "Did I do a good job keeping everything in order?"
Aziraphale bursted into tears and tackle-hugged the demon. He sobbed against his chest and Crowley caressed his back. "Missed you too." Said the redhead honestly.
"Why? Why did you go through so much for me, even if you weren't sure I'd return?" He asked, looking up at him.
Crowley shrugged. "Because it's you."
The former principality's chest heaved. "You say that as if it makes perfect sense."
"It does to me. Last time we were here, you said 'nothing lasts forever'. I know you loved this place more than anything. Too much to actually mean those words. Sounded like Heaven-speak the moment it left your lips. Figured, if you were ever able to shake off their brainwashing, or you just changed your mind about choosing their side, you'd need a safe space to run off to."
Aziraphale sobbed harder and hugged him tighter.
"I don't deserve you. Not after the way I've treated you. I'm so sorry, dear boy. I'm so stupid-"
Suddenly Crowley's hand was over his lips. "Didn't Anthony tell you not to say that earlier?"
"Anthony?" Asked Aziraphale, voice muffled thanks to Crowley's hand.
He removed his hand. "Easier to call him 'Anthony' than calling him 'Crowley' or 'Me'. Just felt weird."
"You talk to him? Why?"
"It's a way to pass the time. Sometimes we talk, sometimes I have him read a book while I focus on keeping everything intact. Like having Siri or Alexa reading a book straight into your brain." Explained the demon.
Aziraphale let out a soft chuckle. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. He could recall many times when Crowley would make a comparison to something modern and he'd nod along, only getting half of the point.
"I still don't think I deserve any of this kindness." He said, voice riddled with guilt.
Crowley grabbed the blond's hand. "You deserve the world, Aziraphale. Couldn't save the world this time, so I saved your home. Hope it was enough."
The angel gave his hand a thankful squeeze. "More than enough, my dear boy... May I ask how you're doing all this?"
"Just a shitton of imagination. As long as you're dreaming in your bookshop, you can make that dream whatever you want."
Aziraphale looked intrigued. "Just like that? Whatever I want?"
"Anything at all. Just think of it, I'll take care of the rest."
Curious, Aziraphale nodded and closed his eyes. He imagined that night in his shop when he had started to come to terms with his feelings for Crowley. When he opened them, the two of them were sitting in exactly the same spots, dressed exactly the same as the night in question.
Crowley looked at him and grinned. "1941, eh? Glad to know I'm not the only one who remembers it fondly."
"You aren't... I gather this isn't a memory, then."
"Might be based on one but you can do whatever you want. Observe." Said the demon as he waved his hand and produced a sheet of paper out of thin air. He folded it into an airplane and blew on it before throwing it. Defying all laws of physics, it went up, down, did a few tricks all around the shop and eventually touched down on their table. Well, it actually landed in Crowley's upturned hat, in place of a basket.
Aziraphale was thinking again. Their surroundings changed a bit. There were more candles everywhere now and he had stood, stepping closer to Crowley. He offered his hand. Crowley took it.
Now standing face to face, Aziraphale gestured to the demon's glasses. "May I?"
Crowley nodded. Gently as he could muster, Aziraphale reached up and took the demon’s shades off, revealing his favorite eyes in all creation.
"There you are, dearest..." He whispered, placing the glasses atop the small table, next to their discarded wine.
"May I kiss you?"
Crowley gave no verbal reply, he simply leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The demon placed his hands on the blond's waist, while Aziraphale's were thrown around Crowley's neck. It was soft and overwhelming all at the same time for Aziraphale. Enough that it made him shed a tear.
Crowley felt a hitched breath and pulled away, hands still on his hips. "Are you alright?"
"Sorry. I just... I wish I had done that in 1941. Wish I'd done several things differently, actually." He said, softly, letting go of Crowley.
The scrawny being did the same, then produced a handkerchief to wipe away his tears. "Like what?"
Aziraphale exhaled. "I should've been nicer to you. More honest with you. I wish I had more time with you..."
"Technically, you can. If you decide to stay."
"Stay?" Asked the angel while holding his breath.
"This shop is going to survive for all eternity. You're the only being who can enter it. No matter what they try. The doors won't open. The windows won't break. The walls won't crumble. Time itself will end and this shop will still be in a bubble, floating around in the vast darkness of space." He explained.
Aziraphale looked taken aback by this.
Crowley looked concerned. "What?"
The archangel smiled, once he had internalized the information and understood the weight of it all. "You truly are remarkable. So much power, and yet, you've never chosen to use it selfishly. Doing so much for the person you love, who doesn't deserve any of it."
Crowley cupped his face. "You do... If we don't drop the subject, you know we'll just argue for all of eternity. And if you stay, that's not how I wanna spend it."
"If I stay, technically speaking, we'd finally be running off together..."
"Is that something you want?" Asked Crowley with a whisper.
Aziraphale nodded.
"Then, stay." Said the demon, breathlessly. His eyes looked even more love-filled than before, which Aziraphale hadn't thought possible.
Aziraphale nodded again and moved forward. This kiss had been more peaceful than the last. It went on for longer too. The only reason they stopped this time around was because Aziraphale just wanted to hold Crowley. He buried his face into the demon's neck as he hugged his waist. Crowley simply hugged him back and kissed the top of his head.
~~~~~
Eventually, Crowley made Aziraphale wake up. Even though he'd love to have his angel physically close for every hour of every day, Aziraphale still had a body. Because Crowley wasn't entirely sure if extremely long periods of time in his little dream realm would have some adverse effects on a body, he didn't want to risk anything. Aziraphale understood. So, he agreed to spend 12 hours in his shop, and the other 12 dreaming.
This arrangement would let the angel enjoy his worldly possessions, plus keep Anthony company during the day. Then at night, he could enjoy his demon and their fantasies, while Anthony watched over his body in the real world. But before he could do that, he had some important business to handle. He went to his desk and sat down. With a snap, he produced pen and paper.
Anthony hovered over him. "Feeling creative, angel?"
"Nothing of the sort, dear boy. Just tidying up some loose ends, so I can spend eternity in peace with you two." He said as he began writing.
"Does it weird you out? That I'm him, but at the same time, I'm not?"
Aziraphale nodded. "A bit. But I'll get used to it. He meant well when he created you. You're here to help."
"Yup, that's me. Mr. Exposition/Nanny, at your service." He said with a ridiculous salute.
His pen stopped for a second when he scoffed. "Oh, come now. I'm not a child who needs a babysitter. Even if I have acted immaturely in the past."
"Well y'know, I'm gonna be taking care of your physical form while you're with the real me, so I'm a little bit like a babysitter. Or your personal assistant, if you prefer. At any rate, I'm less stress-inducing than Jim ever was!"
Aziraphale laughed. A proper hard sort of laugh, which he hadn't experienced in a long time. He was grateful for it, really. He took a deep breath and smiled.
"Personal assistant, then. Proof read this for me, will you?" Asked the chubby blond.
Anthony gave him a nod and took the letter from the desk. He read it, re-read and finally bursted into laughter.
To Upper Management:
Kindly accept this letter as my formal resignation as Supreme Archangel of Heaven, effective immediately. My final decree as such is to name the angel Muriel as Heaven's Supreme Archangel, with Saraqael being their second in command. As well as Uriel taking Muriel's spot as 37th class scrivener and Michael being assigned to 38th class scrivener.
As such, Supreme Archangel Muriel will carry out eternity however they deem fit. No matter the objections or opinions from the rest of the choir.
Respectfully:
Aziraphale, retired Principality of Earth
Anthony had finally stopped laughing but was still grinning wildly. "Leaving the naive little cherub in charge? You're gonna drive all the other angels insane when Muriel turns the whole place into a library or something! You sure you've never been a demon?" He teased, handing back the letter.
Aziraphale produced an envelope. "We can blame you - well, Crowley, really - for being a bad influence on me for all these millennia. I'm sure he'd love that." He folded the letter, placed it in the envelope and sealed it.
He looked at the letter once more and smiled. He looked at Anthony. "Let's make it official."
Really, he could have just miracle'd it right then and there to his desk up in Heaven, but where was the fun in that? He and Anthony walked to the front door of his shop. Well, Anthony floated, but that doesn't matter. Aziraphale looked out the glass and saw all the destruction which had resulted from The Final Battle. It only reassured him of his decision. This was all Heaven's doing. He couldn't live with being part of their side anymore. Even if they were just dreams and illusions, Aziraphale preferred living a lie which made him happy, than being brainwashed and being miserable.
Another smile tugged at his lips as he slipped the envelope through the front door's mail slot and it whooshed away to Heaven.
He looked at the clock. 6:00 AM, it read. Only twelve hours to go. Then he turned to a smiling Anthony. "Well dear boy, we've got some time to kill before my next nap. How about a game of chess?"
"I mean, we could, but you'll just get grumpy when I win."
"You only win because you cheat, dear."
Anthony gasped dramatically. "How dare you?! You offend me, Aziraphale!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes, very offended, I am. You only say that because the real me has done it before."
"And you wouldn't?"
"Oh, I definitely will. Just offended that you'd think I would do it out of desperation. I’ll actually do it because you look adorable when you pout and grumble about it." Said the ghostly figure in a matter-of-fact voice.
Aziraphale blushed and swatted at him. It went completely through his shoulder and they both laughed about it.
Anthony flew off to the back room to find the chest set.
~~~~~
One would think that eternity would be incredibly boring. Thankfully, that was not the case for Aziraphale. Every day, just as the sun went down, he'd lie down and enter his second home. Crowley's ability to create dreams was truly amazing. Sometimes his power was so incredible that Aziraphale would wake, thinking he was living in whatever illusion Crowley had just created.
Last night, for example. They had been in Venice. Everything had been so vivid, that the angel awoke missing the scent of the sea breeze coming in from their bedroom window. In the dream, the pair had lived there for over a decade. They were friends with several of the neighbors and just about every local restaurant knew Aziraphale's favorite order and were already writing it down before they had even sat down.
They always favored these kinds of dreams. The domestic life. Simple things one would assume they didn't care or yearn for, as supernatural entities. And yet...
"What do you want today, angel?" Crowley would always ask.
Aziraphale would simply smile and respond with: "Surprise me, darling."
And every single time, Crowley would go out of his way to create a perfect scenario for them to indulge in. They had been humans. They had been creatures. They had been married. They had been themselves. They had been each other. But no matter what, the love was always the same. Always theirs.
In the end, Crowley had been right. The bookshop floated aimlessly around space for the rest of time. And inside, the essences of an angel and a demon lived on forever, happier than they had ever hoped to be.