Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The phone rang loudly as Crowley drove to the market. Nina had been giving Crowley busy work and although Crowley grumbled, he appreciated having something to do. It was better than rotting away drunk in his car like he did most days.

If he wasn’t rotting, he would spend his time with Muriel in the bookshop. Someone had to keep Aziraphale’s books in place. Crowley wouldn’t never admit it even if you held him at gunpoint, but that Muriel meant a lot to him. They were adorably naïve and Crowley couldn’t help but see his old self in them.

The phone rang almost pointedly, as though it wanted Crowley to pay attention. And thanks to his spiteful nature, Crowley found himself not wanting to answer anymore. The ringing was irritating but if the universe wanted him to answer he simply wouldn’t.

There was a pause of silence as the voicemail started.

“Crowley.” Time seemed to freeze. After months, he was finally getting the call he could never decide if he wanted to recieve. It was Aziraphale. Crowley recklessly pulled his car to the side, hungry to listen to every word Aziraphale would say.

“I didn’t expect you to answer my call after everything.” Azirapahle sighed. His voice had dulled since they last spoke. “It’s understandable really. I just-“

A beat.

“You were right, Crowley. I can’t fix this place and I’m stupid for trying. We could have been us.”

These were the words Crowley had been dying to hear. He had fixated in his mind, playing different outcomes a hundred times over only to get angry at himself for being pathetic enough to miss Azirapahle. Aziraphale had left because Crowley wasn’t good enough to stay for.

Yet all he felt was dread as a pit formed in his stomach. Something was deadly wrong in Aziraphale’s voice.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. You just seemed so happy making those stars Crowley. I wanted to see you smile like that again. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing but it never seems to be the right thing for you. It never seems to be the right thing for Heaven either.”

There was another pause, and Crowley could hear ruffling, almost as if Aziraphale was looking around.

“I love you.” Aziraphale said quietly. Crowley's grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I love you so much it physically hurts.”

It was surreal hearing the words only uttered in his dreams come from Aziraphale. The apology had been everything he wanted. Azirapahle had finally, after over 6,000 years, said I love you to him.

Crowley didn’t forgive him.

God, he was angry. But his love for Aziraphale had stayed persistent despite his anger. Maybe they could just…talk.

“You can’t call me back. They can’t know I’ve made this call. I think I’ll-..”He paused for a moment and left the sentence unfinished. “I need you to listen carefully, Crowley.

I couldn’t stop them. The Seconding Coming is going to happen soon. They’re angry about Armageddon being stopped, which is why this is happening in the first place. In 3 weeks, He will be here for the Ends of Times. And I want you to do anything in your power to stop it from happening because I won’t be able to anymore soon.”

What a god awful amount of information to lay on a person in the span of a few seconds. Armageddon part two with three weeks to fix it, this time more impossible given this would be the Son of God.

He could have let it happen. An angry part of him wanted to. This was supposed to be their world and Aziraphale had left him in it.

Yet, he couldn’t do that. He knew guilt would eat him whole for letting the world that had been so dear for the last 6,000 years be destroyed. Even if he couldn’t stop it, he had to try.

Crowley’s heart rate picked up even more, which he didn’t think was possible. The last sentence had been rather ominous.

“I’m going to be compromised. I don’t know what they’re gonna do with me. I’m concerned I may be casted into hell flames. I didn’t-“ His voice broke. “I didn’t want to go without apologizing. Maybe I deserve it after everything. I can’t fix what I’ve done to you and I can’t fix Heaven either.”

Azirapahle laughed hollowly.

“But you-“ His voice lit up when he spoke of Crowley’s potential. “You can still fix Armageddon. I know you’re strong enough. I..I have to go now. I love you.”

…

Fuck.

He hastily called back, not giving a shit about Aziraphale’s warning. The line didn’t even ring, it simply went to static as he desperately tried to call.

“Shitshitshitshitshit- please fucking answer angel-” He yelled as he punched in the number over and over.

Crowley gripped the steering wheel tighter than he ever had in his goddamn life, speeding like he hadn’t before. He knew he couldn’t get into Heaven, but surely Muriel could-

They reported to Azirapahle, right? Yes, yes they did. Maybe? No, Muriel would have talked about that more. Did they? Fuck, he could barely think right now.

Crowley, though forsaken, had been clinging onto the hope of Aziraphale coming back as a lifeline. He was so fucking angry, depressed, and went through emotions he couldn’t explain if he tried.

Despite everything, the nagging hope Aziraphale would change his mind had kept Crowley going through all this, even if the voice was small.

Maybe I deserve it after everything.

The line repeated in his head over and over again. Aziraphale felt remorse, he knew that at least. That didn’t- Crowley didn’t want him gone.

He didn’t care to avoid cars, he simply miracled them out of the way as he pulled into the bookshop. Muriel was curled up in a chair, reading with a cup of cocoa nearby. They had finally figured out how to actually drink things, and fancied hot chocolate. Something about hot chocolate seemed to appeal to angels' palettes.

“Muriel. He said their name wildly, desperation ringing throughout his voice. Muriel had grown accustomed to his distressed, emotional state over the months she’d gotten to know the demon. It wasn’t unusual for him to simply burst through the shop, tension bubbling around him like a thick fog.

However, this felt different. The angel set down their book, staring at Crowley in concern.

“Mr Crowley, are you feeling alright?” They asked hesitantly as they stood up.

“Take me to heaven.” His voice was shaky and fragile.

Muriel stared at Crowley in disbelief before finally responding.

“I-I can’t do that.”

“Take me to Heaven, Muriel.” Crowley got closer towards the angel, venom lacing his features.

“I- Mr.Crowley, I narrowly avoided getting in huge trouble with everyone I don’t want anyth-”

“Fucking take me to heaven!” Crowley shouted, barely a foot away from Muriel. He could feel the smoke radiating off from his body. Crowley’s words came out almost snake-like, and he was sure if his glasses were off there’d be no whites to his eyes.

Muriel raised their arms defensively, as if waiting for Crowley to deliver a blow.

Crowley, who had spent his time teaching Muriel how to (not) run a bookshop, making Muriel hot chocolate, teaching the angel how to blend in, giving them tips for their clothing style.

Here they were, cowering at the sight of him.

They almost never breathed- Muriel just never really understood how or why- but now Crowley could hear their shallow, jagged breathing. The angel was attempting to back away, but they had no room.

“Shit- shit okay-“ He took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair compulsively. Muriel lowered their arms but they were still shaking a bit. It wasn’t Muriel’s fault they were scared Heaven would hurt them. Crowley took a deep breath then spoke.

“Aziraphale is- he- he’s in trouble, upstairs.”

“Trouble?” Muriel titled their head to the side.

“I need you to go find out if he’s okay.”

“I-I don’t know if I’m high enough of a rank for that. I don’t report to Mr Azir- Supreme Archangel Aziraphale.”

“I need you to try. You like Aziraphale a lot, yeah?”

“Yes! He’s very nice.” Muriel smiles fondly, remembering the kindness the angel had shown them. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do, Mr Crowley.”

“Thank you, thank you so much Muriel.“ Crowley watched as Muriel vanished. He so desperately wanted to come with, just to see if Aziraphale was there with his own eyes. That was asking too much of Muriel though, wasn’t it? They had risked their neck all because Crowley had tricked them, and they certainly would have been punished if the Metatron hadn’t stationed them on earth.

It couldn’t be over.

Maybe I deserve it after everything.

Would Aziraphale let it end? It was over already though- wasn’t it? Hadn’t it been over for months? Aziraphale had made his choice and that choice had been heaven.

I love you so much it physically hurts.

He couldn’t let it end like this- not when things could finally start.

++++++++++++

Muriel hadn’t been in Heaven for a while now. There simply had been nothing to report. Or more so, no one to report to. No one particularly cared about the bookshop but Aziraphale and they were never allowed to talk to him.

It was upsetting in all honesty, but Muriel would never admit that. That’d be complaining about something completely understandable. He was the Supreme Archangel- why bother giving his time to a 37th ranked angel?

He seemed really miserable. Every time Muriel caught glimpses of him, he looked a little more hollow. Any spark of personality the former principality had was gone. His beige outfit had been replaced with a sleek gray suit that Gabriel once fashioned. Muriel had expected Aziraphale to perhaps add his own quirks, but if he had they had been long removed.

They needed to find someone to talk to- maybe they’d run into Saraqael if they were lucky.

What could Aziraphale possibly be in trouble for? How did Crowley even know something was wrong? Questions and concerns whirled through Muriel’s mind as they tried to find a principality or power.

“Uhm, excuse me!” Muriel chipped nervously as they finally found a power to consult. The angel looked at Muriel, seemingly agitated by their mere presence.

“You are?” He seemed unimpressed, eyeing Muriel up and down. “What's with the earthly attire?”

Oh, right! Muriel had forgotten to change back into their angel uniform. They had gotten rather used to the comforts of soft human clothing and felt almost a little sad as they miracled their old uniform back on.

“M-Muriel, sir. 37th degree recording angel scrivener.” They straightened their posture, not attempting to let their worry show. The power’s face crinkled up in disgust. This angel was already one of the lowest tiers and was wasting time speaking to someone several ranks above them.

“What do you want?” He spat impatiently.

“I need to talk to the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale.”

The angel laughed at them, waiting for Muriel to say they were joking or something.

“Oh, oh you’re serious.” The power’s face fell before turning into amusement. “He’s a little occupied right now.”

“Is..he okay?”

“You’re wasting my time. I’m a power, I have better things to be doing than talking to the likes of you.” He sneered as he eyed the angel up and down. Muriel felt small- they always did in heaven. People here seemed to love to belittle them.

“You still haven’t answered the question though.” Muriel attempted to keep their voice firm and determined, which was something Muriel had never done before.

The power’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, he’s fine. Go back to wherever you were stationed and don’t use that tone again.” He waved his hand dismissively at Muriel, clearly done with the conversation.

“But can I see-”

“Leave.”

Muriel paused for a moment before walking back towards the elevator. They had been told Aziraphale was fine, but something felt wrong.

Heaven would never lie though, right?

Chapter Text

Aziraphale stood silently as the angels discussed among themselves. He couldn’t move anyway- they didn’t want to take the risk of him running away so they took away his ability to move.

Defending himself would be pointless because they all knew what he’d done.

Aziraphale knew it was the right thing, but all he could feel was shame. How dare he try to stop Her divine plan? How dare he try to save the world She created? How dare he think he has the right to interfere with The Almighty’s plans?

Someone had to stop it and that person simply wasn’t him. He had miracled in and out a telephone to call Crowley. It had been a small, quick miracle and would surely go unnoticed given that Heaven had much bigger concerns right now.

Things were almost easier because that Crowley didn’t answer. Or at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. He’d never know if Crowley would have insulted and berated him or begged him to do more than just take it. Aziraphale didn’t know which was worse.

He made a desperate attempt to ignore the fact he may never hear Crowley’s voice again.

“Can’t we just-“ Micheal sneered. “throw him into hell flames? That’d take care of his idiocy once and for all.”

“That didn’t work last time.” Uriel replied coolly. “He’s gone too native to earth.”

They spoke of it like it was a bad thing. These angels were too simple minded to understand the point of anything if it didn’t have some sort of benefit. They had never seen the beauty of human love. How could one wish to destroy the world, knowing there was a mother out there gently rocking her child to sleep? How could one wish to destroy the world when there were two teenagers holding hands as they stared at the stars Heaven had made for them?

Amazingly enough, none of them had actually figured out the actual reason hellflames hadn’t worked. He would almost laugh if they weren’t discussing his execution.

“If he falls then it really looks like an institutional problem.” The metatron glared at Aziraphale. “The incident with Gabriel was already embarrassing enough, but you are just pathetic. Besides, he’d still know everything about the Second Coming and could still try and find a way to stop it.”

Aziraphale had nothing to say. The metatron was right and Aziraphale knew it. He was a pathetic excuse of a principality and an even more pathetic excuse of an archangel.

Aziraphale had done virtually nothing to change Heaven. He had tried so damn hard to fix anything but he was always vetoed by majority vote.

He had barely even had the room to issue his proposals in the first place. Meetings always consisted of him being talked over, silenced, or belittled. Usually it was all of the above.

His title felt like nothing but words before his name the longer time went on. It held no power and certainly held no meaning to those around him. Lower ranked angels had some sort of appreciation for him, but most of Heaven simply snickered at him.

Aziraphale would always hear snide comments made by his coworkers when he dared to get into their sight of vision. Words like traitor and stupid were almost always thrown around.

This is for the greater good. He’d try to tell himself. I can make a difference.

Eventually, the insults simply became a part of his routine. They weren’t exactly insults anyway- simply unpleasant truths. Angels weren’t supposed to lie after all.

“We could always… wipe his memory.” Saraqael proposed. “He won’t meddle with the Second Coming if he can’t remember that he’s an angel in the first place.”

“And it won’t matter if he goes running to his demon boyfriend if he can’t remember him.” Micheal added.

His heart pounded at the mention of Crowley. With anxiety or love, he couldn’t tell.

Oh, how he missed Crowley. Miss didn’t feel like strong enough of a word but there simply wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe his yearning.

Not a second went by in Heaven where he didn’t think of Crowley.

Every harsh word the angels would utter to him would constantly remind him that maybe Crowley was right. Maybe Heaven is toxic. But that voice remained in the back of his head, much like a headache. Aziraphale had to remind himself that he was enduring this monotony for the greater good of all angels.

The sterile, white lights of Heaven made him miss the dimly lit bookshops and the taste of wine. Even after months of staying in Heaven, Aziraphale always found himself resisting the urge to squint. He’d actually suggested they tone down the lights but was met with nothing but a cold laugh.

Often Aziraphale would stare at the globe, wanting to search for Crowley. He did actually look for him once and felt tears form when he couldn’t find him.

He always thought about simply popping down to earth and begging Crowley for forgiveness. The metatron had made it very clear to Aziraphale that he couldn’t leave Heaven, and insisted he’d know the moment Aziraphale did. Though the angel wasn’t sure how, the metatron’s warning was enough to stop Aziraphale.

It never stopped him from imagining it all though.

Whenever he was alone, Aziraphale would press his hand to his mouth and relive the sensation of his lips meeting Crowley’s. Aziraphale had so desperately wanted to lean into the kiss, and for a moment he had. He had rested his hand on Crowley’s back and let himself give into it.

He’d longed to kiss Crowley, but not like this.

Not when it was desperate and filled with grief that could never be spoken with words. It was the first time Aziraphale had ever been kissed and it’d surely be the last.

Crowley would never take him now, not when he had ruined everything. Ruining things seemed to be something Aziraphale was exceptionally good at. It was probably the only thing he was good at if he was being honest.

“If we dump him on earth, he’ll be destroyed when we finally get everything in motion.” Uriel hadn’t looked at Aziraphale the entire trial and finally made eye contact as she spoke. “All in favor of wiping his memory?”

They all raised their hands in approval.

“Right, we’ll find something to..” Micheal drawled on, but Aziraphale wasn’t listening anymore.

6,000 years.

6,000 years would be simply gone. This was worse- this was so, so much worse than death. At least if he’d been executed, he’d die knowing his name. He’d die knowing the people he loved were still out there. He’d die knowing what he lived for.

6,000 years of him.

6,000 years of meeting one another.

6,000 years of relying on each other.

6,000 years of trying to hold onto the other only to falter their grips.

6,000 years of painful dancing, never quite close enough to kiss.

Aziraphale knew that if he slept in Heaven, he would have dreams of red, vibrant hair that he could always find in a crowd. It never mattered what he was wearing or how he was presenting, Aziraphale knew him by his soul.

Yellow was Aziraphale’s favorite color, and he never knew why until he looked into Crowley’s eyes after everything with the church. He hated when Crowley wore his sunglasses, even if Aziraphale knew he had to.

He hated that Crowley put them back on in the bookshop. He hated that he could see the gleam of unshed tears in Crowley’s eyes. He hated that Crowley had looked at him with such desperation.

Above all, Aziraphale hated himself.

Every moment in Heaven had been spent in self loathing. He’d go over every single thing he’d do differently again and again, desperately trying to find a way to make things work still. He’d search for a way to convince Crowley to go to Heaven with him or make Crowley understand why he had to do this.

Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever.

Aziraphale knew they couldn’t keep running. It was nothing more than a mere fantasy to believe that they could ever outrun Heaven or Hell, which is why they had to go towards it. They had to build a better future together.

Every sound, light, and noise was blurring together like watercolor. The process must have begun because Aziraphale’s mind felt like it was melting. It was more than this mind though- it was the very fiber of his being. Aziraphale’s memories are what made Aziraphale himself and now that was being taken away.

He could feel everything slipping away from him slowly.

It was the colors that went first. Red hair and red wine had been replaced with a painful bright white before turning to nothing. Golden yellow eyes that made him think of sunflowers and honeycombs pooled out of him like ichor.

Voices of everyone he’s met over the millenia became a gentle buzz you’d hear from cheap office lights. His voice joined the orchestra of strangers Aziraphale would never know he had met.

Who was he missing anyway?

The strong urge to sleep engulfed Aziraphale as he lost what made him whole.

++++++++++++

Crowley paced the bookshop in mindless circles, physically unable to stand still. His corporation felt like it was on the verge of exploding- could corporations do that from stress? If not, his was about to be the first.

If he didn’t stop steaming with anger and anxiety, the bookshop would surely catch aflame for a second time.

How could Aziraphale waltz out of his life, only to come back to announce he’s going to be killed? Why was Crowley so desperate to save him if he was so angry at him for leaving? Why couldn’t Crowley accept the death and simply move on?

Even proposing the concept of acceptance felt worse than his bubbling anger.

Images of the archangels' cold, lifeless faces illuminated by the fire in which Aziraphale burned danced around in his mind. Aziraphale screamed as the flames engrossed him, begging Crowley for forgiveness.

Not God, but Crowley.

It finally hit him that this was one of the reasons why Crowley couldn’t stand Aziraphale in Heaven. Crowley knew the pure cruelty Heaven showed to its angels. He’d learned that the hard way but Aziraphale hadn’t.

He couldn't protect Aziraphale there. Heaven was a domain Crowley couldn’t reach on his own anymore. Crowley wasn’t sure how long that concern had been there- perhaps since their days in Eden. He had never noticed it before, but now it was amplified.

Waiting for Muriel felt like an eternity. Crowley had been there since the Beginning, but all that time spent living felt like nothing compared to this. He needed a fucking drink. Wine sounded perfect right now but Crowley needed a clear head.

Muriel finally appeared, looking rather conflicted. They were wearing their angelic outfit which Crowley had never seen before. It suited them but it had no personal flair to it.

“Well?” Crowley said impatiently.

“They said he was okay.” Muriel was staring at nothing in particular, their eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed.

“But did you see him?” Crowley asked hysterically. It didn’t matter what heaven said, Crowley wanted confirmation Muriel had seen the archangel with their own two eyes.

“Well…no. I was barely allowed to even speak to a power, let alone the Supreme Archangel.” Muriel paused. “But Heaven wouldn’t lie, so he’s okay.”

Crowley wanted to be angry with the angel but he couldn’t. He knew Muriel believed Heaven truly had their best interest in mind. Crowley could have sworn he’d sometimes see the twinkle of the stars he made in Muriel’s eyes.

Muriel hadn’t seen Aziraphale.

Muriel hadn’t fucking seen Aziraphale.

The flames of grief from the bookshop engulfed him once more. The realization that Heaven had destroyed the one person he held so dearly and that there was no way he could ever fucking get him back came rushing once more. It was so much worse than discorporation. Though painful, at least they could return.

Not this time.

Their dance had ended months ago but the music had never stopped playing. It had been quiet, but it had never stopped. They both heard the rhythm but they assumed the other didn’t.

The phone call had been everything Crowley could have asked for. It didn’t mean he could look past everything Aziraphale had done but it felt a little easier to move forward knowing his angel had good intent.

He always did.

Aziraphale had just wanted to fucking see Crowley happy. His angel didn’t believe he was enough to make him happy. Even after all the dinners spent laughing, all the stupid jokes they made together, all the memories Aziraphale still didn’t believe he was enough.

Crowley couldn’t tell if Muriel was speaking over the ringing of his ears. At some point his knees must have given in, because Muriel was leaning over him worriedly.

Crowley heard the bookshop door swing open.

“Crowley, I saw you park here-” Nina began as she walked in. “Did you get the ingredients I asked…?”

Her voice trailed off as soon as she laid eyes on the demon. He was cowering on the floor, muttering something incomprehensible over and over again. Guilt was painting Muriel’s face as they hovered over Crowley.

“He’s gone.” The demon said in a small, shaky voice. Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at Nina. “They killed him and I don’t think he fought back.”

Chapter Text

‘It’s so cold out here.’ He thought to himself. Where he was, he wasn’t exactly sure but he was freezing. Despite the fact he had on long sleeves, he couldn’t help but shiver. He wasn’t quite sure how’d he even got here, but he woke up in a patch of damp grass.

It was weird how none of the other grass patches were wet. Water had been running down his face and he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

His head also hurt a lot . It always had, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. For whatever reason, the side of his face seemed to hurt extra. He grazed his fingers against the ache and found his hands stained with crimson. 

He stared for a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth being alarmed about. He wasn’t even quite sure what it was anyway so there was no need to worry. 

He looked around again, attempting to get a better understanding of his surroundings. Nothing seemed particularly familiar to him though. Perhaps he needed to get to know the area better, and something would come back to him. 

A little walking around wouldn’t hurt him.

++++++++++++

It’d been maybe 24 hours and Crowley still hadn’t left the floor. His wings had materialized from whatever plane he left them in, hugging his shaking body. 

He had run out of anger. 

Crowley had faced this stage of burnout around 3 months after Aziraphale left but this time it felt worse. He wanted to get shit faced drunk but he lacked the energy to move.

He was like a dead star. He had reached a peak of pure, flaming anger before exploding into bright colors of emotions. He didn’t think about the beauty nebulas could create or the stars that could come out of it.  

Muriel and Nina never left his side. Nina closed down the coffee shop for the day so her sole focus could be accompanying Crowley. Maggie was out of town, visiting family up north. She was supposed to be coming back to Soho today though.

They’d all be gone soon enough. Nina was a mortal. Maggie was a mortal. He wasn’t sure when that started to make his heart hurt. Crowley never remembered beginning to care, but he was far too deep into it now to simply stop.

Muriel wasn’t mortal, but they weren’t indestructible. He hadn’t been indestructible after all. Muriel had been risking their grace just being friends with Crowley. They were another angel simply too good for Heaven.

 Crowley wondered if Aziraphale screamed.

He felt worse when he realized that Aziraphale probably did not.

3 weeks. 

Aziraphale left no instructions. He left no outline for Crowley, just a desperate plea for him to do anything he can. He probably didn’t have enough time to explain anyway, with how frantic he sounded. He spent that small sliver of time telling Crowley he was sorry and confessing everything Crowley could have asked for. 

It felt like their kiss but worse.

Crowley’s kiss had been filled with desperation and grief- a final beg for Aziraphale to stay. It hadn’t worked obviously. If anything, he just felt a little disgusted with himself.  

This had been Aziraphale’s final bow. A desperate beg for Crowley to forgive and to fix what the angel couldn’t. 

3 weeks and Crowley didn’t have a fucking clue where to start.

He considered just letting it all go to shit and simply allowing himself to be destroyed. On the loneliest of nights, Crowley thought of holy water. Destroying himself wasn’t his first thought when Aziraphale left, but it was still there. It was simply a quiet, small urge he never dared to indulge in.

How could Crowley disrespect Aziraphale’s wishes like that though? It was the last favor his angel had ever asked of him. It was their earth. They had roamed it together, meeting each other time and time again. They had built their homes here.

Even for the hundred year gaps in so many of their meetings, there was always a comfort in knowing someone like you was always out there. 

The last few months were nothing compared to the interims of the Arrangement, they just felt like centuries. That warm blanket of comforting knowing someone you could always find was ripped away harshly and without warning.

This was still their earth with their history carved into it, even if things were over. Even if a wound stops bleeding, the scar doesn’t simply vanish. 

He had to do something. The Second Coming had been something humanity had been anticipating since the dawn of christianity. If Agnes Nutter could predict the future with such insane accuracy, there had to be some nut out there who figured out how to end The Second Coming. Maybe something in the bible- if Crowley could even touch it without burning- or some book in this very shop.

Crowley vaguely wondered if Adam still had his powers. Maybe he could do something about it all, or he’d sense something. Some shit like that.

What does it matter if he’s not here?

They both had always asked favors of each other. It was a part of the Arrangement and they always gave their end of the bargain. Even if it sometimes took a century, they both always fell through.

Aziraphale had asked Crowley one final favor. He had so much faith in Crowley, even after everything that happened. The way his voice practically shimmered when talking about Crowley’s powers made the demon’s head hurt. 

Did that make Aziraphale a coward?

He realized Crowley was right, came running back and begged for Crowley to finish his work? What gave him the right to hurt Crowley like that only to hurt him again in an entirely different way?

No, Crowley decided. He cared too much about doing the right thing. 

He had to try.

For the first time in 24 hours, Crowley sat upright. His body and wings ached from laying down. He’d been asleep for 40 years once but this felt different. His bones were lined with grief that made everything hurt.

He stretched out his wings before shoving them back into a different plane. Nina looked up from her phone, making eye contact with Crowley. She had been sitting on one of the several cushioned chairs, simply staying with Crowley. Muriel seemed to have gone off to a different room or something.

“Need a hand?” She got up from the chair she was sitting in, extending her hand to the demon. Crowley clumsily took it, his body shaking. 

“Right, do you uh-“ Nina said. “want something to drink? I dunno if demons exactly need to drink anything but…”

“I don’t know.” Crowley’s voice was hoarse from crying.

“I’ll get you some water.” Nina left as there were no water bottles kept around the bookshop. There was never a need to drink any, being an ethereal lifeform and all. Plenty of wine though- or at least there used to be till Crowley drank it all. He regretted taking that wine though as it was filled with painful memories of drinking together. 

Crowley stared at where Nina once was, feeling dazed. He could have gone for some alcohol in all honesty, but he needed to be clear headed if he was gonna find information about the Second Coming. 

“Oh, Mr Crowley!” Muriel appeared and seemed excited. “You’re up!”

Muriel would be a good place to start. An angel would surely know something about the Second Coming, no matter how low of a ra-

Crowley was broken out of his train of thought as Muriel wrapped their arms around him.

“W-what-“ Crowley stuttered, completely caught off guard.

“I read this makes people feel better when they’re sad.” Muriel ever so slightly tightened their hug, sounding proud of themself.

Gingerly, Crowley hugged back. 

“Thanks, kid.”

++++++++++++

During the days Crowley was at his worst, Maggie blamed herself.

She truly had no bad intentions. It was obvious to anyone with a brain that Crowley and Aziraphale had feelings for eachother. Someone had to push them to communicate if they weren’t gonna do that on their own.

Maggie knew it wasn’t her fault things didn’t work, but she couldn’t help feeling bad over it. 

Her heart hurt when Nina broke the news to her. Aziraphale had been such a lovely and kind man to her, even if he had meddled in her love life. 

It was convenient that she was gonna be leaving the next day. She knew Crowley had to be a mess right now and wanted to do what she could to support him. 

Maggie hugged her relatives goodbye and drove off. She had grown up in a small town in the north, which is what attracted her to Soho. It was such a stark contrast to the quiet life she’d grown up with. 

She hummed along to the song playing in the car absentmindedly. Maggie didn’t particularly enjoy driving up here alone, but it wasn’t like she ever had someone to go with. Though, it seemed like that may be changing soon. Nina had become much more open to the concept of dating as time progressed. 

Her mind was anywhere else but the road. This place was muscle memory to her so she barely had to think about how she was driving. If she had been any more distracted, she would have missed him.

Because walking on the side of the road was a dead man. 

Aziraphale was wearing a sleek, gray suit that was stained with mud and grass. It seemed rather uncomfortable honestly.

Maggie sped up her car to catch up with the angel, and stopped as she reached him. No one was on the road anyway, so it didn’t really matter. 

 “Mr. Fell??” She cried out as she unrolled her window. Aziraphale made no indication he had heard her, and kept walking. 

“Aziraphale!-“ She cried out again, catching up to him. Finally, he looked at her. Dried blood was caked on the side of his head, and his skin was a sickly pale.

“Oh! Are you talking to me?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” 

“No, no I definitely don’t.” Her mouth fell agape as she stared at Aziraphale. He didn’t look dead, but he didn’t look very alive either. His hand was stained with blood.

“I don’t know anyone named Aziraphale.” He insisted.

“ You’re Aziraphale.” Was this a joke? His confusion seemed so genuine, and there wasn’t an ounce of recognition in his eyes as he stared at Maggie. 

“I am? Why did you call me Mr. Fell at first then? I really don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for.” He squinted at her.

“Cause Mr. Fell is a more formal version of Aziraphale..?”

“Well I mean, if you say so.” Aziraphale shrugged nonchalantly, as though everyone forgets their entire identity. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I am? I appear to be uh- lost.”

“Y’know I uh- I actually know this area very well. Why don’t you get in the car and I’ll show you around?” Maggie tried to ignore the fact that she sounded like a kidnapper. 

“Oh yes, that’d be lovely!” Aziraphale smiled “…what’s a car?” 

++++++++++++

“So, you have no idea how you got here..?” Maggie asked as she made a turn, her worry evident.

“Not even the slightest! And I’ve had this irritating ache in my head since I’ve been awake.” The angel complained. They’d been driving for about an hour now and it was obvious enough this wasn’t some sort of cruel joke. Aziraphale truly had no idea who he was or who she was.

“It prolly has to do with the gash on the side of your head. Do you erm- have any idea how that happened?”

“Gash? Is that what this is?” Aziraphale touched his injury again. Maggie didn’t keep first aid in her car, but she could surely buy some when they reached a gas station. “No, I don’t have the slightest idea. It’s been irritating me since I got here.”

She hadn’t had a chance to call anyone. Maggie couldn’t explain the situation with Aziraphale in ear-range, so she was planning to call Nina at the next gas stop. 

Maggie simply hummed in response as she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.

“Do you think you could make it any warmer here? I’ve been awfully cold.” Maggie had already turned up the heat several times now, but Aziraphale continued to shiver. It reminded her of ghosts, with how people always described them as cold.

Aziraphale was most certainly not a ghost- (she’d been able to deduct that much off) but he was the ghost of the person he used to be. Maggie had no idea how it happened. Would a head injury seriously be enough to wipe out memories from the beginning of time itself? How could everything just vanish all thanks to a head injury? 

She also considered this may have been like Gabriel. Maybe his memories had been wiped by Heaven. Maybe he had wiped his own memories. No matter how it happened, all his memories had turned to ash.

It gave Maggie whiplash when she realized how awful Heaven truly was. How could the place meant to be made of love and acceptance be so damn cruel?

“What’s that?” Aziraphale pointed at the approaching gas station. 

“Well, I need some more fuel for my car. I’m also gonna get you something for that injury, okay? So just stay in here.” Maggie said as she pulled up. She spoke to him almost as though he were a child, but it seemed to be the easiest way for him to understand concepts. 

“Wonderful!” He smiled excitedly. Nina smiled back at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ll be back.” She said as she got out of the car. Aziraphale sat diligently, staring at the control panel. 

With shaking hands, Maggie called Nina. She knew the phone must have only rang for a few seconds, but the anxiety in her stomach made the ringing long and drawn out.

“Ello? You almost here yet?”  

“Uhm, sort of. But there’s something going on-“

“Is everything alright?” Nina’s voice tensed.

“I found Aziraphale. And something’s really, really wrong.”

++++++++++++

Muriel still hadn’t let go of Crowley when Nina got back. It was an adorable sight, with how relieved Crowley looked as he got hugged.

“Ngk.” She took it as a thank you.

“One moment.” Nina’s phone rang. Maggie was calling her, probably to tell her she was almost back. “Ello? You almost here yet?”

Crowley and Muriel stayed silent as Nina tensed.

“Is everything alright?” Crowley felt like he was gonna choke. If another fucking thing happened to someone he cared about-

“Holy shit- “ Nina gasped. “…No, no I get that… Absolutely…I’ll tell them now.”

Tell them what ? Did Maggie get in a car crash? Had there been a fire? Had someone-

“Is uhm..is everything alright?” Muriel asked hesitantly. 

“Maggie found Aziraphale.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale, as his name apparently was, had been taking great joy in watching the changing scenery. Trees and hills flew by him at speeds he could only imagine going at. A strange feeling gnawed at him, insisting that he had before. 

Maggie (was that her name?) had been asking a lot of questions Aziraphale didn’t have any answers to. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad watching the slow horror and disappointment crawl across her face the more she interrogated him.

Aziraphale didn’t bother feeling too bad though. It wasn’t his fault Maggie asked so many strange questions. He couldn’t be mad at her for it though- no one should get in trouble just for asking a few questions. 

The lush emerald green provided him with crackles of familiarity before fizzing away. It reminded him of the taste of apples and walls of stone, though he wasn’t sure why. Eventually the nostalgia faded and Aziraphale was left confused. What was he thinking about?

He wasn’t sure where they were going but he also didn’t care. Maggie obviously knew what she was doing, and Aziraphale had faith in her. She’d been so nice to him and had even bandaged up that stupid gash. He still couldn’t piece together how he’d gotten it- he just sorta woke up with it there. 

His interest piqued as narrow roads of gravel eventually turned into complicated highways. Cars become more and more apparent and flashier the farther they went. He had no idea how long they had been driving for. Any sense of time Aziraphale had was thrown out the window the moment he woke up in that field. For all he knows, they’ve been driving for days. The more time went on, the more frequent other life became.

 Eventually activity was all around them, almost overwhelmingly so. It was almost like a beehive, worker bees buzzing around in their own world. Ah yes, beehives were yellow! That was his favorite color. How could he have forgotten something like that? Yellow was warm and safe and made him think of…well, he wasn’t sure what, but he knew they were important. 

“Oh! This is a strange looking gas station.” Aziraphale chirped as the car stopped in front of a building. Unlike the other gas stations, this one was placed in the middle of all the hubbub and he couldn’t see a single car in it. The words “record” and “shop” were plastered on the front. 

“No, no.” Maggie laughed as she unbuckled her seat belt. “This is my record shop.”

“Record..?” He furrowed his eyebrows. She always seemed to talk about things Aziraphale hadn’t heard of before. 

“I’ll explain another time.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. None of the smiles she had given him did but Aziraphale hadn’t noticed nor cared.

“You always use such funny words.” Aziraphale sighed. “Reh-cor-ds.”

Maggie simply hummed in response.   

“Y’know, why don’t you follow me?” She smiled. “I wanna introduce you to my friends.” 

++++++++++++

He didn’t feel Aziraphale’s presence.

He could see Maggie’s car pulling up at the record shop, but he didn’t feel the angel nearby. Crowley could always feel a sort of Heavenly energy radiating from Aziraphale. It was one of the many consistent things about him and gave Aziraphale a sort of strange glow you only noticed if you stared at him for too long (which Crowley had a nasty habit of doing). 

It’d be an understatement to say Crowley was overwhelmed.  All in a 24 hour time period, he had learned the world was ending in three weeks, grieved the love of his life, only to learn the bastard was alive. 

Or at least as alive as he could be.

Crowley’s heart had practically clawed its way out of his chest as everything was laid out to him. Maggie had been on her way back and found him gawking around on the side of the road. There was dried blood on the side of Aziraphale’s head, which the angel hadn’t even seemed concerned about.

That deep, bubbling anger that had died had raised again when he learned that. He wishes he was more angry at the notion Heaven had hurt his angel, but he felt more of an animalistic desperation. Why wouldn’t he just heal it? Did he think he deserved the injury?

Of course that wasn’t enough though. Their miseries were never enough for God. She always took more and more from them, as if She didn’t already have everything. 

Aziraphale hadn’t recognized Maggie. 

He hadn’t recognized anything .

 He didn’t know his name. Maggie had called to him several times and had to bloody argue with him over the concept. She had to explain simple concepts like a car or the fact he was injured in the first place. They had taken everything but his life. 

The door gingerly swung open. Now Crowley had seen a lot of fake smiles in his life, but never one as fake as Maggie’s. She looked physically uncomfortable as she smiled, as though clothing lines were pinching her cheeks. 

“These are the people I wanted you to meet.” Maggie gestured reassuringly towards the three of them.

It’s him.

After months, it was finally him. 

Not a hallucination, not some sort of hope in a drunken haze. Aziraphale stood before him, shining in the sunlight. His heavenly glow had wavered but the sunlight pouring from the outside had replaced that. It outlined his beauty, almost like it was his aura. 

One of the first things Crowley noticed was the suit. It was a stuffy, insufferable shade of gray like the one Gabriel wore. It seemed almost worse, with how itchy the texture looked. It was just about the exact opposite of any texture Aziraphale wore on earth. Dirt and grass stained it, with a touch of dried blood.

“..Angel?” Crowley choked out as he approached Aziraphale. This wasn’t a dream or a nightmare, no matter how unreal everything felt. The bookshop was warping in Crowley’s vision and all the colors were rather sharp, as though he were looking at an edited photo. 

He gingerly brushed his fingers against the wound. Crowley wasn’t sure if he could miracle it away. If it truly was a holy injury, he most likely wouldn’t be able to. His hands felt electric as they brushed against the side of Aziraphale’s face. 

The angel’s face was awfully cold. In the fleeting moments they had made physical contact, Aziraphale had always been astonishingly warm. It was like a cozy campfire in the winter or the comforting rays of the summer sun.  Crowley had held onto that warmth desperately and had never experienced such awful frostbite when his angel left.

Aziraphale took a step back, and laughed. 

“Okay-“ He smiled in a way oddly reminiscent of Jim. “I’m confused now. Maggie, you said my name was Aziraphale.”

“It- it is.” She stuttered, confused.

“But he just called me angel! That’s nowhere near Aziraphale.” He exclaimed. “Though I suppose if you sorta jumble it around a bit you could get angel. But that’s besides the point. Which one is it?” 

“It’s more of ehm, a nickname.” Nina treaded carefully. She had been standing in silence, staring tensely at Aziraphale. Nina hadn’t been the closest with Aziraphale but she still felt awful seeing him like this. ‘Course she was mad at him after everything, but she knew why Aziraphale came running back. It was for the same damn reason victims ran back to their abusers. 

“Ohhhh, a nickname! Lovely things. I don’t believe I’ve ever been given one before, so thank you.” He smiled warmly at Crowley. The genuineness of his smile and confusion was much like a stab wound.

He didn’t- he didn’t recognize it. Of course he hadn’t recognized the nickname. Crowley shouldn’t have expected him to. Memories flashed by him of Aziraphale responding to it like a second name. At this point, it practically was. Whether Aziraphale knew it was a romantic term of endearment was beyond him, but Aziraphale answered to it nonetheless.

They had not killed Aziraphale’s body but they had killed his soul. 

“Oh god-” Crowley covered his mouth, curling into himself. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m…sorry? I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He sounded like someone who was bad at handling kids sitting next to a crying toddler. Aziraphale half heartedly patted Crowley on the back. “There, there.”

Aziraphale looked around awkwardly at Nina and Maggie, silently begging for them to do something. Muriel had been staying in the back and Aziraphale hadn’t even noticed them until they wrapped Crowley into a hug.

“Oh, another friend!” Aziraphale said excitedly as Crowley shook in Muriel’s arms. Fucking hell, he needed to pull himself together. Once again, Crowley could feel his world shattering. How many more times did his heart have to break for God to be satisfied?

He sighed shakily and uncurled himself. Crowley had to be presentable even if his knees were weak and he was resisting the urge to vomit. Why did his corporation have to come with the ability to vomit?

Aziraphale stared at Crowley with his big blue eyes. They weren’t really his angel’s though, were they? No, this was a stranger with Aziraphale’s eyes. Nothing had changed but Crowley felt no warmth or recognition when he looked into his angel’s eyes.

“Y’know, I think I’m missing something here. Is there something you’re all not telling me?” Aziraphale sighed, rubbing his palm. The whole room seemed to light up as though he had uttered some sort of trigger word.

“Yes- yes you are-”  Crowley took off his shades and focused all his energy into his eyes. His powers had been enough to form a crack in Gabriel’s amnesia. Perhaps the same could work with Aziraphale. “Focus on what you’re missing.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed as he stared blankly into Crowley’s eyes. He could hear something faintly calling for him in the static. A nightingale sang in his heart but no one could hear it. Not even Aziraphale. 

“Mmmpf.” He broke eye contact, tightening his fists. “Goodness, you’re worsening my headache. Your eyes though…they’re beautiful.” 

Aziraphale sighed with such awe Crowley could feel himself melting from how hard he was blushing. He had been complimented by Aziraphale sure, but never with such tenderness. So many of Aziraphale’s loving gestures had been laced with caution that Crowley had failed to notice until he looked back. 

With shaking hands, Crowley puts his shades back on. This was not the Aziraphale he knew complimenting him.

“Awh..they were rather pretty.” He whined, much like a begging puppy. “Yellow is my favorite color, after all.” Aziraphale beamed.

“Great, he remembers his favorite color.” Nina deadpanned. 

“Well of course! I have rather great memories, as I’m sure you can tell.” Crowley wished Aziraphale was being sarcastic, but every word was genuine. “Reminds me of something, though I’m not quite sure what.”

“It’s a start!” Muriel said optimistically. 

Bloody hell, it was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

They talked a lot about things Aziraphale didn’t understand. He was starting to get annoyed about it all, to be honest. They threw around weird words like “ancient runes” and “compartmentalized sectors”. He could barely contribute to the conversation, and the redhead wouldn’t stop looking at him weirdly.

He had already forgotten the man's name- Caleb? Cranthony? Crawler? Whatever it was, he had taken a fancy to staring at Aziraphale through those sunglasses. It wasn’t very subtle either. He could feel the pure shock and daze radiating through Cacaphony’s stare.

Something was wrong with the man but Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on what. He also didn’t care all that much. Caw caw had provided him with a nice, warm cup of hot chocolate with a label that read “JIM.” Who Jim was didn’t matter, but the cup he owned was lovely. 

After having it awkwardly explained to him what he was supposed to do with the liquid, Aziraphale learned he absolutely adored hot cocoa. Canada had even taken the liberty to add huge “marshmallows” as they were called.

The raven haired woman who he believed was named Nina had also provided him with warm food. Aziraphale had never had anything quite like it before and felt content with life after eating. His head had stopped hurting entirely (he couldn’t even feel the injury anymore!), and existence was peaceful if you ignored the desperate conversation about the end of the world and someone’s memories. 

He hadn’t the faintest idea what they were yappering about, but he felt left out and bored. Aziraphale hadn’t even looked around the shop- they had told him to sit and so he did. What good was sitting next to them if he could only half understand what they were talking about?

Aziraphale patted himself off as he stood up. The whole place was incredibly cozy and brought a fuzzy sensation in his chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the feeling was though. Maybe it was love? This place had been lived in and cared for by whoever the owner was. There was also the slightest taste of despair on his lips.

You idiot, we could have been…us. 

He pushed his hand against his mouth as he eyed the bookshop, only to be hit with a choking sensation. Dormant grief and desperation had finally found an opening and was gushing out violently. Aziraphale’s lapels had been grabbed tightly and angrily, but he could feel the desperate love that was in the grasp.

With that, the memory faded.

“Mr. Aziraphale?” Muriel sounded worried. Why did they sound so concerned for him? All he had done was stood up. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes, of course-” Aziraphale stuttered, his voice shaking. 

“You’re crying.” Crawley said quietly. Crying wouldn’t be the right word. It looked more like silent sobbing with how intensely his shoulders were shaking.

“What?” Aziraphale pressed his hand against his cheek and felt the steady flow of tears. “I suppose I am. How strange, but I’m sure it was over nothing.”

A beat.

Gingerly, the conversation picked up again. Aziraphale took it as an opportunity to look around. The books had no real structure as to how they were organized. They varied in age, some ranging from brand new to practically golden yellow pages from age. Aziraphale knew it was supposed to be by the author- how he knew, he wasn’t sure- but it was organized by the first sentence instead.

Other than that small peeve, Aziraphale felt quite safe here since buzz of the outside world could barely be heard.

“Adam!” Caveman yelled out suddenly. “Adam the- the antichrist-“

“Hold on, what?“ Nina blurted.

“Before all this-“ Crowley raved. That’s what his name was! “-y’know when Atlantis raised itself from the ground and just vanished?”

“Yes..?” Maggie said hesitantly. The whole ordeal was foggy, but she knew it happened. What a surreal week.

“That was because there was supposed to be an apocalypse-“  

Aziraphale turned out Crowley’s rabid revelation. He had lost interest in what they were talking about as soon as he picked up a book called Pride and Prejudice . 

“So you think he could fix Aziraphale?” Maggie sounded hopeful. Fix? Nothing was wrong with him.

“I’d say we should pray that Adam can, but I’m really starting to think God wouldn’t answer.” Nina sighed. 

“Trust me, She wouldn’t.” Crowley grumbled. “Right, angel. Get in the car.”

“Ooo! Another car ride!” Aziraphale squealed. 

++++++++++++

Crowley had never driven this slow in his life. Aziraphale seemed to have 3 heart attacks simultaneously every time Crowley went more than 60. He would always drive slower with Aziraphale in the car, but never this slow. He was only going 40! It was criminal, really.  

He had insisted Nina and Maggie stay behind and they agreed. However, Muriel was not as content with this. The scrivener insisted on coming along and they were too adorable to say no to when pouting. He just had to move one of the plants to the floor so Muriel could sit in the back.

Crowley and Aziraphale had visited Tadfield only once after Armageddon’t. They were considering moving there one day, since it was such a lovely town. He wondered what that life would have been like if things hadn’t gone the way they had.

Would Aziraphale set up another bookshop in Tadfield? Maybe there would have been a huge library room in their cottage where they could curl up together on a couch much like one in the shop. Azirapahle could read out pages to Crowley as he napped next to his angel. 

He shook the vision away, anxiously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. They’d be there soon enough, but not soon enough for Crowley’s liking. He felt physically sick from driving so slowly and the anticipation was killing him.

This had to work. It was way too easy, but it had to work. This was the safest option and the most easily available. No one could get hurt like this, right?

Heaven had decimated his angel's individuality. They had controlled Aziraphale since…well, ever really. 

The demon had been unable to pinpoint exactly what had happened to Muriel but they were certainly brainwashed. Their natural naiveness and empathy made it easy for them to like Crowley, even if they had their fits of moral righteousness. 

It seemed to be a pattern among the angels he knew. He could only hope Muriel would stay safer than Aziraphale. They were such a sweetheart.

May God show an angel mercy for once. 

++++++++++++

The Them were currently sitting under a tree attempting geometry homework. Well everyone was attempting but Wensleydale, who was succeeding. The kid had a knack for math that the others didn’t quite measure up to. Adam wasn’t awful at math, but geometry was anything but his speciality.

“It’s simple, really-“ He began for the third time.

“Then why don’t I bloody get it?” Adam groaned. 

“Maybe you’re just bad at explaining things.” Brain offered.

“I am not .” Wensleydale whined. 

“You kinda are.” Pepper shrugged. “You’ve said the exact same thing twice now and expect us to get it the third time. That's just stupid.”

“You’re stupid!”

“Fuck you.” Out of all them, Pepper had developed the strongest sailor’s mouth. Wensleydale had been the last of them to swear, perhaps because he was a “wimp” according to the Them.

“This is boring. We can do this tomorrow.” Adam said as he got on his bike. The Them all made noises of agreement and got onto their bicycles.

A familiar car pulled on the side of the road. 

No one else in Tadfield ever drove a car like that. Adam had only seen it come through here once, and even had a brief conversation with its two occupants. Perhaps they were here to actually buy that cottage.

“Adam-“ Crowley stumbled out of the Bentley, anxiety and desperation in his voice. “Can I talk to you?”

“I’ll erm, catch up with you all later.” Adam waved the others away. They were confused, but Adam was the leader of their group after all.

Someone Adam didn’t recognize stepped out from the back seat, looking enthusiastic to meet him.

“Mr Antichrist!” They shook his hand excitedly. “Oh I’ve heard so much about you in Heaven! Not really… nice things but hello!”

“Just call me Adam.” Oh, so another angel. Aziraphale stepped out of the Bentley in a completely different get up than usual. The iconic beige outfit had been swapped for an outfit awfully similar to Gabriel or whatever that prick’s name was. He also seemed…lost? He was looking at Tadfield like he had never seen it in his life.

“Listen, Adam-“ Crowley said in a low voice. “Do you still have your powers? All that Antichrist get up? Heaven they-“

Crowley choked for a moment before gaining his composure.

“They’re mad about everything with you, yeah? They’re starting it all up again for a second time and they wiped all of Aziraphale’s memories as punishment for trying to stop it.”

Adam stared for a moment. It had been only 4 years since everything happened. How determined were these assholes to end the world? Seriously, 15 would be a shitty age to be at the end of the world. 

“...I don’t really have them anymore. “ He sighed guiltily. “They’ve just sorta faded over the years.”

“Oh, hello!” Aziraphale popped out of seemingly nowhere. “And what’s your name?”

“..Adam.” Aziraphale really didn’t recognize him, huh? 

“Well, thank you anyway.” Crowley sighed. “Let’s go, angel.”

He ushered the both of them back into the car. It was time for plan B- which wasn’t the best option but it was better than nothing. He had spoken with Anathema on the phone a few times now, and she had been the one to show them cottages around here.

Jasmine cottage wasn’t rented out anymore, and the horseshoe had long since been taken down. The couple had bought it and been living together ever since Amrageddeon’t. They seemed quite happy here, and Crowley bit down a twinge of jealousy. 

He rapidly knocked on the door, and was greeted by an awkward looking Newt. Then again, when did Newt ever not look awkward? 

“Wow, you uh…didn’t mention you’d be visiting!” He tepidly let them inside. “And with someone I’ve never seen in my life.” Muriel gave a tiny wave to Newt.

“I’ve been meeting so many people today!” Aziraphale beamed at Newt. “What’s your name?”

“We’ve…met before?” Newt stared blankly at the angel. 

“I can assure you that we have not. You must be thinking of someone else.” 

“Oh, hello you two- three! I was upstairs and thought I heard your voices.” Anathema said warmly as she came down the stairs.  

“Right-” Crowley clenched his fists. “Can we talk in the kitchen?”

“Is everything alright?” Anathema furrowed her eyebrows. Crowley pointed at Aziraphale then shook his head vigorously. Muriel stayed with Aziraphale in the living room, making idle conversation as Crowley explained the whole story.

“Can you- I dunno, do some witchy shit and help him out?” Crowley waved his hands around vaguely.

“Mmm…I can try hypnosis at the very least. There’s nothing I can really think of that would help get back his memory. I’ve never seen anything that could clear memory like this, so I can’t think of anything that could counteract it.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but if there was anything that could be done, Crowley would take it. The two angels had been discussing animatedly with each other about how beautiful the whole town was, and continued their conversation as they were brought into the kitchen.

“Aziraphale-” She took off the pendulum she’d been wearing.

“How do you know my name?”

“Could your eyes follow this, please?” Anathema ignored the question as she swayed the jewelry back and forth. Aziraphale had been holding no tension in his body, but his face fell rather blank as he watched the necklace sway. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“...Nothing. I-” Aziraphale paused, shaking. He could hear something- some sort of bird call? He could recognize it but he couldn’t hear it properly and it was soon drowned out. “They held me down and banged my head into a rock.”

“They? Who’s they? Why were you being held down?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think harder, Aziraphale.”

“I don’t know!” He cried, looking away from the necklace.  “You all make such demands of me and- and I can’t! It hurts to try and think about it. I don’t understand what you all want from me.” 

There was a moment of silence.

“Fuck, okay. Plan C then.” Crowley pinched his nose bridge. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Crowley?” Muriel said nervously. 

“You brought me into Heaven once, I’m sure you can do it twice.”

Chapter Text

If you had told Crowley 5 years ago he would be walking right into Heaven, he would have laughed at you. If you told him after armageddon’t that he would be walking right into Heaven a second time, he would have laughed at you even harder. If you told him after Aziraphale left that he would be walking right into Heaven, he would probably just stare at you. Or burst into tears. Either way, he wouldn’t have believed you. 

Surprisingly enough, the easy part would be actually getting into Heaven. Once again he would just be waltzing right into this stupid beehive via Muriel letting him through the elevator. The tricky part was not getting caught and finding the bloody thing his angel’s memories were stored in. If they couldn’t find it after 60 minutes, they planned to try again a few hours later. Those hours would be spent planning and doing research on how to stop the Second Coming.  

Anathema and Newt were responsible for Aziraphale in the meantime. He once more, had barely paid mind to their conversations about him. His obliviousness would be almost charming if it wasn’t so sad. 

“I don’t understand why Heaven would do this.” Muriel said dejectedly as they climbed into the elevator. “Mr. Aziraphale is so nice! He was doing the right thing, wasn’t he?”

“Heavens not as good as you think, Muriel.” Crowley spoke gently to the angel. He wished someone had talked to him like this before the fall. Maybe things would have been more bearable if someone broke the news slowly and patiently to him. 

“But we’re supposed to be. Isn’t that the point of it all?”

“It’s not as easy as that.” 

“I want it to be.”

“I do too, kid.” 

The rest of the ride up was silent.

Crowley had changed into a more angelic fit which was much sleeker than the last minute one he compiled last time. It was a suit, as all high ranking angels wore. If he hadn’t fallen so long ago he would have worn something similar if not identical. The thought of it was weird- he may have been wearing a blazer for the last 20 something years, but it never meant anything other than being fashionable. 

The door opened, and Satan , he had forgotten how ugly this place was. Before the Beginning, Heaven had been much less industrial. He had no idea when Heaven had tried to mimic the humans they wished to destroy but they were failing miserably. Copies of man made structures were placed unnaturally outside some of the only windows in Heaven. 

During the Before, you could see the universe in its rawest form outside of the windows Heaven had. Stars Crowley and the other handful of angels had designed could be seen coming into existence, adding to the warm light Heaven radiated. Now the holy light was sterile and reminded Crowley of hospitals. 

“It’s prolly in the upper-pricks storage area.” Crowley grumbled. That place always bothered him. It gave the upper rank angels a superiority complex because surely they’re special if they get their very own storage area! He understood why it exists and its practicality, but he wished the others would have shut up about it. 

“That’s a thing?” Muriel sounded amazed. “There’s no way we could ever get into that then. I wouldn’t know where that is and how to get into it.”

“Oh, but I do. Trust me, they don’t change the passwords here.” Crowley took the lead. If they hadn’t moved everything around then he would know where to find it. Higher ranking angels had little possessions but the ones they had tended to rotate around. Things like star plans weren’t meant for lower ranking eyes, which is why they were kept in a selected area. 

They had to have kept his memories in something, right? Memories couldn’t exactly be destroyed unless someone was erased from the book of life, so those assholes had to have shoved it somewhere. 

“How do you know so much, Mr. Crowley?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t always a demon.”

“Then who were you..?”

“Ngk.” He waved Muriel off nonchalantly. “Bit powerful, it doesn’t matter now.” 

No one paid them any mind. Heaven had busy work to be doing for the preparation of the Second Coming- a high and low ranking angel were surely just off to do their duties. The hallways became less and less crowded until they were empty entirely. 

They found themselves in front of a door Muriel had never seen in their life. Crowley did some sort of hand motion in front of it and it instantaneously opened. Rows and rows of biblically historical articles and charts Muriel could barely read lined up against the shelves.

“How will I know if I’ve found it?” The scrivner fretted. How were you supposed to know when you’re holding every memory someone’s ever had? What if they broke it accidentally?

“Well it’s gotta be some sort of container, yeah? So just see what you can find and we’ll go through ‘em.”

“Okay!” They nodded, smiling. “I’ll stop talking so much though.”

“What- why?” Crowley asked. Currently he was examining the Holy Grail casually, as though it were a plastic cup from Five Below. 

“I’m not supposed to talk in Heaven unless I’m making reports. Which I…haven’t been doing.” Muriel admitted guiltily.

“You haven’t? I coulda sworn I’ve seen you zap up here to make one before.” Maybe Crowley had been drunk.

“No, no one wanted to hear about anything I had to report about. Which is completely understandable! The Metatron gave it to me personally-“

“He did?” Crowley was both surprised and not surprised. Leave it to the Metatron to find the first angel in his field of vision to be stranded on Earth. Muriel hadn’t even been given some sort of training- that was one of the main reasons Crowley stuck around with them. It was just pitiful to watch others treat Muriel like they were an alien. 

“So it probably wasn’t supposed to be shared. And I- I don’t know why but I didn’t wanna report about you.” They sounded ashamed of themself. “You’re just really nice, Mr. Crowley.”

“They’re not here now though, are they? You can talk as freely as your heart desires.”

Muriel’s face went blank as they processed that.

“You’re right.” They beamed. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

++++++++++++

“Right well, I suppose we’ll keep that in mind. Even if what you’re proposing is rather…impossible.” The dominion’s face scrunched into a disgusted smile. Angels these days were so scatterbrained that it was almost pathetic.

“Well that’s a relief.” The angel sighed. 

“Best be off now. You have stations you should be attending to, no?”

The angel bowed and quickly scurried off. What a relief- his brain surely would have melted if he had to listen to that nasally voice for a moment longer. Nonetheless, he would have to report the incident. Something like they were describing wasn’t possible in his humble opinion, but it would probably be blasphemy if he didn’t report it.

He walked to Micheal’s office as she wasn’t busy right now. He described how some scatterbrained, low ranking angel insisted there was a faker in the midst. How this poor, foolish angel was fully convinced there was an unholy entity dressed up as a high ranked angel just roaming without being noticed in the hallway. The idiot's whole line of reasoning was that they “knew all the higher ups by heart and didn’t recognize that one.” 

“Of course, something like that’s simply impossible!” He laughed. “Someone couldn’t have just broken into our Heavenly sanctuary.”

“Did they provide an appearance description?” She spoke sharply.

“Oh, I dunno.” The dominion shrugged. “Red hair? Tacky sunglasses? Sharp nose or something?”

“And do any of the higher ups match that description?” Micheal asked impatiently. 

“There’s plenty of ginger higher ups. I’m sure they were just dolled up and it spooked the angel. Poor souls, they don’t seem to comprehend much these days. Always listening to their fear and-”

“You’re excused.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I said you’re excused . Thank you for the report, now leave.” 

The dominion blinked for a moment, as though he had never been excused in his life. “Yes, of course. Absolutely.” He bowed and quickly scurried out. 

Micheal sighed, tightening her hands into tight fists. Of course that insufferable demon got into here a second time. Of course he was here to ruin everything once again. She called a meeting with the others, and hastily explained everything.

“How could that snake have possibly learned about what’s happening?” Uriel groaned..  “Aziraphale doesn’t have his memories.”

“I don’t fucki-” Micheal broke out into a brief coughing fit. “I don’t know!” 

The three of them broke out into a feverish argument. They pointed fingers at each other, insisting one of them had wiped his memories wrong and how they should’ve bashed his head into that rock harder.

“Silence.” The echo of the Metatron’s voice instantly quieted them. He had become a regular at these meetings now. It was mainly to discuss everything with the Second Coming but it was also to monitor Aziraphale. The archangel seemed to quiet down a lot more when the Metatron was looming over his shoulder, judging every word and movement. “I will take care of it all myself. The meeting is adjourned.” 

++++++++++++

Books were a wonderful thing. Don’t get Aziraphale wrong, he enjoyed the quaint cottage. Newt and…Anathema? were lovely hosts but Aziraphale longed for the bookshop. There would be so many more options to read over there. Now not to say Anathema’s collection wasn’t intriguing, but he longed for some different genres. The whole occult business wasn’t exactly up his alleyway. 

Newt was a rather awkward man. All of Aziraphale’s interactions with others had awkward undertones that he didn’t pick up on, but this awkwardness was practically dancing in front of him wearing neon. He kept asking about the weather and was staring at Aziraphale like a deer in headlights.

Three sharp knocks came at the door.

“They must be back- it hasn’t been an hour yet.” Anathema said excitedly as she got up. That would make things so much easier. If Aziraphale could remember the details of everything he could offer better solutions on how to stop it all. There was no need to check the peephole- it was just Crowley and Muriel.

Right?

An aging man Anathema had never seen in Tadfield stood expectantly on the porch, two people in full white standing at his side. His aura was so strong it was almost painful to look at, and Anathema had to squint for a moment when looking at him. 

“Can I help you..?” She asked hesitantly. He shoved Anathema to the side and without a word walked into the house. Before she even had the chance to speak, one of the uniformed guards pinned her.

“NEWT-” Anathema cried, wildly attempting to squirm out of the guard’s grasp. It was times like this Anathema wished she had the book back, just so she could have prepared herself for this visitor. 

She knew how to defend herself well but a strange, sudden sleepiness encapsulated her. Sleep would be a lovely thing right now, wouldn’t it? She could see Newt asleep on the floor and if he was asleep then she may as well sleep too.

As her eyelids began to flutter shut, Anathema felt dread in her heart.

++++++++++++

A strange, decrepit old man walked into the kitchen. Aziraphale had been minding his own business, consuming some of the absolutely delicious cookies Anathema had baked when the elder marched in like he owned the place. 

“Get over here.” He growled. “You have caused enough trouble.”

“Trouble? Why, I’ve never met you in my life! Now if you excuse me, I have something to be doing.” Azirapahle huffed. His indulgence was being interrupted and frankly, he did not care for it.

“I have had enough of you.” The stranger grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist tightly. “You have caused so many problems that it’s insane you haven’t fallen yet.”

“Fallen? Fallen from what? Let go of me! Newt, Anathema-“ He called out desperately, but could see both of them were unconscious. The man’s grip on him tightened the more Azirapahle tried to break free.

“This ends, once and for all.” The stranger’s eyes glowed a compelling shade of purple. Something was familiar about it, invoking a lifelong fear of punishment Aziraphale didn’t know sat inside him. 

Possession.

He had read the word in one of Anathema’s books in the short time span he’d been here. Aziraphale had only briefly looked through it, but this had to be it. He could feel his freewill unraveling the longer he stared into his captor’s eyes, yet his limbs were frozen. 

It became a natural instinct. He could feel the violent nature of the voice of God in his mind, reminding him how to live. This is what he wanted to do. This is what he should do. The will of God wasn’t something to be questioned nor was it something to be toyed with.

He had to do the right thing.

He had to do the holy thing.

He had to eliminate Crowley. 

Chapter Text

“It’s not any of these.” Crowley sighed, frustrated. Most of these containers had lost their holy energy or were empty entirely. Memories could be stored in several ways but you would know they were there. The easiest way to tell was by brushing your fingers against the artifact. You wouldn’t gain the stored memories, but you would see flashes of them in your vision.

He cringed, remembering how he learned that. It had never happened to him by any means but Crowley had found a box filled with wiped memories of various angels before he fell. When he had asked about it he was shown indifference by the Metatron, who insisted it was a necessary measure. 

“Times up, Mr. Crowley. I’m sure we’ll find it when we come back.” Muriel hummed hopefully. They carefully placed everything right where it had been left. Muriel was paranoid someone would figure out they had been rummaging through here, so they took extra care to make things perfect.

“Well, let’s go then.” Crowley led them out of the storage unit, back into the blinding white halls of Heaven. Not a single angel had even passed by the unit, making Crowley and Muriel’s lives a whole lot easier.

“ You’re not going anywhere, sinner.” Aziraphale spat coldly. The flaming sword from Eden was gripped tightly in his hand, purple eyes piercing Crowley. Two expressionless angels were stationed at his side. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley gaped. “Aziraphale, what are you doing here?”

Aziraphale ignored Crowley’s question. His eyes were the same awful shade of purple Gabriel’s had been. Crowley wasn’t sure if that implied what he thought it did. Could Gabriel seriously have been possessed all these centuries? Was it simply Gabriel’s design?

“ You once more help the enemy. I expected a fool like you to consult with this demon but never to this scale, Muriel. You support evil in its roots by conspiring with the enemy. You are possibly one of the most incompetent and sinful angels of our time, and you should be ashamed of yourself. For you sin, you will fall from whatever’s left of your grace. ” Aziraphale motioned for the two angels at his side to grab Muriel.

“W-what..?” Muriel stuttered shakily.  

“Don’t you dare. ” Crowley immediately jumped in front of Muriel to shield them. It didn’t matter how much of a stranger Aziraphale felt like when the angel left for Heaven. Crowley had known him for 6,000 years and knew his angel would never do something like this. No, this was not his angel. This was the Metatron or perhaps it was God personally. He wouldn’t be surprised if She did something like this.

The two angels punched Crowley rather hard in the head, leaving him momentarily stunned. Within this small frame of time the angels had managed to grab Muriel by their arms and began to drag them.

“Let go of me!-” Muriel pleaded. They hadn’t been trained for anything like combat and Crowley had never seen a reason to teach them any. Scriveners were meant for writing, not being a soldier. Muriel hadn’t the slightest idea as to how they could break free. “CROWLEY.”

“I’m a good person I’m a good person I’m- CROWLEY-” Crowley reached a hand out desperately to Muriel, knowing he couldn’t catch up by now. They were too far by now and Aziraphale still held his flaming sword, blocking Crowley’s way.

“You’re a fool, ######.” Aziraphale’s words were laced with venom and hatred Crowley had never heard from his voice. The demon could feel his soul burning as his angelic name was spoken and flinched. “ Oh, does that hurt? ”

A heartless laugh echoed around the halls as Aziraphale pointed his sword at Crowley. He could feel the warmth of the flames near his skin, mere inches from his chest,

“ You were once wonderful, Crowley. Your creations were everything Her holy work should be. No one did this to you but yourself, you know that? Your foolish questions about the will of God caused your downfall. There were no flaws with Heaven and there never have been. What God wished to do with the universe was not for you to question. Yet you had to meddle, didn’t you? You and your little boyfriend couldn’t simply let things happen. You-” Aziraphale paused his tirade, staring at Crowley with wide blue eyes. “Crowley?”

The first thing Aziraphale remembered was fear. 

He had spent his whole life in a constant state of anxiety. Crowley wasn’t someone Aziraphale wanted to hate, no matter how demonic. He still held love in his heart from when Crowley was an angel and it didn't simply vanish when Crowly fell. If anything, his love for Crowley grew. Aziraphale could always feel the drum of anxiety when he remembered what could happen if Heaven found out about his fraternization.

 It was never Crowley that made him feel unsafe. 

It was always Heaven. 

Crowley was a sinful comfort Aziraphale indulged in. Aziraphale was supposed to be lonely by design. He was supposed to guard the eastern gate alone. He was supposed to roam the earth alone. He was supposed to stay alone.

But oh, how he loved Crowley. All he wanted was a chance for them to be safe and happy together. All he wanted was to see Crowley grin like how he did while making the stars. All he wanted was to make Heaven a safe sanctuary. 

The rest of the memories flowed like a river. 

He could remember the taste of wine as both their glasses clinked at the Ritz. He could remember the sound of Crowley’s laugh when Aziraphale said something that was apparently hilarious. He could remember allowing Crowley immunity from the bookshop ward and giving the demon a tour. He could remember every detail of his favorite books and how he collected them over the years. He could remember all the despair and all the joy that came with living.

Aziraphale didn’t want to do this.

“Angel?” Crowley sounded dazed. He had been plotting a way to get out of this, but every single one involved hurting Aziraphale’s corporation. He couldn’t take that, especially if his angel had gained some sort of self awareness. The Metatron twitched before continuing his rant.

“ You belong nowhere and fit in nowhere. There’s no place for you in Hell and there’s certainly no place for you in Heaven. You will die, in the name of God almighty. ” Yet Aziraphale didn’t move his sword. It ever so slightly trembled in his grasp, but he didn’t move. “I don’t want that. Crowley, I don’t want you to die I don’t-“

“You’re better than him, angel.” Crowley took his chance to get up and put some distance between him and Aziraphale. Not enough that Aziraphale would be abandoned, but just enough that Crowley couldn’t be stabbed with a simple swift motion. 

“ Do you honestly ever shut up ? ” The Metatron groaned. The sword was being jutted at weird angles as the two fought over it, but it was obvious enough the Metatron had more control over the situation. 

“You need to leave.” Aziraphale begged as he charged full force at the demon. Crowley barely avoided being charred by the flames. A punch was thrown at Crowley’s ribs, and in the moment of weakness he was slammed into the ground. “Crowley, don’t just take it! Don’t just take the hits, please-“

“I can’t hurt you, angel.” He knew he should fight back. He knew he shouldn’t just be taking it as the Metatron kicked him square in the jaw, knocking his sunglasses off. He knew he shouldn’t have taken any of those hits but it was still Aziraphale he was looking at. The idea of fighting back made him feel sick.

“ You were always a coward.” The Metatron hissed, holding the sword above Crowley’s chest. “ What, afraid to hurt your little boyfriend? ”

This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to die by the hands of Aziraphale in the place he hated more than anything. Crowley knew he would never get the luxury of death as an immortal- but this was different. This sword could truly kill , and he was going to be its next victim. At least he’d get to see his angel one last time.

“Look at you. You’re gorgeous.” Crowley said softly, stars shining in the demon’s eyes. 

The sword trembled even more than before in Aziraphale’s grip. This was a lamb he did not wish to slaughter. Crowley was a pointless sacrifice to God. She had not cared about Crowley anymore- why offer him up to Her now?

He couldn’t let this happen. It didn’t matter how much it hurt to try and overpower the Metatron or how much his next course of action would hurt. Aziraphale knew he was out of options since Crowley refused to fight back.

“I am so sorry, my love.” The sword slowly but surely lowered. Crowley forgave him. Crowley forgave him a million times over because he knew this wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted. If he could die sure of anything, it was that it was always Heaven who had ruined them both.

“I forgive you.”

“Then I hope you’ll understand.” Aziraphale gave a small, hopeless smile as the angel stabbed himself. 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and Aziraphale was no more.

++++++++++++

This isn’t how this was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to get caught. Why was this happening? Why was this going so wrong ? Where was Crowley? What was wrong with Aziraphale’s eyes? Was that Aziraphale to begin with?

Muriel didn’t know where they were being taken. These angels had refused to simply teleport there, opting Muriel to be dragged against the floor instead. Their skin was getting more carpet burn the longer they were being dragged.

They had been mindlessly begging and apologizing, randomly calling out for Crowley or Aziraphale. Muriel had no friends in the thousands of years they had lived, so there was truly no one else to call out for. Muriel knew they had been doing the right thing. Heaven wasn’t evil per se, but they were surely in the wrong for wiping Aziraphale’s memory. 

Heaven wasn’t evil, right? 

It was God's holy kingdom. She was a being made of purity and light. She had shown kindness to the world, but the world had turned its back on Her. Surely, her kingdom wasn’t evil?

But where was She? Why wasn’t She answering Muriel’s prayers of forgiveness? Why was Muriel being hurt? Was this just something they deserved?

Was it their fault?

Finally, they came to a stop. They were at a precipice Muriel didn’t know existed in Heaven. They had always assumed Heaven to be an endless expanse of light, but perhaps it had its borders.

Muriel fell to their knees as the two angels let go of them. They were so indifferent to Muriel’s sobs. These angels were just mindless drones, obeying Heaven’s word. Had Muriel been like that once? What changed?

“Please.” Muriel begged quietly for one last time. The angels barely spared them a glance before shoving them into the darkness. 

There was a split second of relief in the weightlessness that came with free falling. Muriel had never really had the chance to use their wings in Heaven. It was never needed for a scrivener to fly, after all. At most Muriel would stretch their wings when there was no one else around and clean them.

An agonizing scream Muriel didn’t know sat inside of them released as their wings began to burn. The smell of sulfur reeked the farther they fell from Heaven. Muriel was like a shooting star as their body and wings began to burn up, only accelerating their fall.

Muriel hadn’t realized it, but at some point they had begun to scream Crowley and Aziraphale’s name. It was a subconscious act, really. Muriel had loved the protection and safety they felt around those two and now it was gone. Muriel was utterly alone as they fell.

The very fiber of their being seemed to crumble. Muriel could feel their soul metamorphosing into that of something unholy. If they had truly lost their grace, why would becoming a demon feel so unnatural to their body? If they were a sinner, why didn’t their penance feel earned?

They had no idea how long they had been falling for, but eventually Muriel landed in some sort of lake. It was filled with a thick, black oily substance and it coated Muriel’s entire body. Their mouth filled rapidly as they began to choke on the liquid. Although they were in searing pain, Muriel attempted to wedge themself out but it was simply too thick.

Slimy hands grabbed onto Muriel’s ankles, dragging them deeper into the lake. They desperately attempted to kick the hands off, but more appeared the more they squirmed. It was a futile fight that Muriel knew they couldn’t win. 

They took one final look at the unforgiving sky before allowing themself to be dragged under.

Chapter Text

“Do you know what Crowley’s fatal flaw is?” A voice asked. It was so familiar, but Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on who it belonged to. He knew they had to be important though if he felt this much obligation to find them.

Aziraphale could see nothing but darkness. It wasn’t like the greenish darkness of Hell or the deep blue of the night sky. It was more like space but without the twinkle of stars. Heaven and Hell were supposed to be the afterlife, yet Azirpahale had gone beyond that. He could no longer be anywhere .

For a moment, he thought the voice had been his mind playing tricks on him. Did he have a mind anymore? Could Aziraphale even hallucinate? Eventually, his eyes reached a wooden table. A woman was sitting across from an empty chair, a deck of cards and poker chips next to her. There was a small, overhead light illuminating the scene.

It finally hit him who that voice belonged to.

“A-Almighty-“ Aziraphale stuttered, shakily getting on his knees. God had never shown Herself to anyone these days. Only in the Before, when Aziraphale had yet to truly exist did She show Herself to Her creation. Time and time again, many had prayed to see Her glory. Here She was, sitting casually in the void. 

“None of that.” She scowled. “Sit, Aziraphale. Formality doesn’t matter here.”

Aziraphale obeyed hastily. He didn’t know what he had expected Her to look like, but She seemed awfully nonchalant. She had a weathered look to Her, with bright blue eyes rather similar to Aziraphale and short wispy hair. 

“Do you know what Crowley’s fatal flaw is?” She asked again, dealing out cards. God gave no time for Aziraphale to respond before speaking again. “I made him love too much.”

“How could uhm..how could that be a flaw?” Azirpahale asked, his voice trembling. How dare he question God? What gave him the nerve? Was it perhaps that Aziraphale had lost everything he could ever have now?

“I thought the same thing. An angel loving his work surely couldn’t be an issue, right? And all angels need a flaw or else they’re bland.”

Aziraphale looked at his cards, but they kept changing between suits. His head hurt just looking at it. 

“Of course I coulda looked into the future to see how Crowley would turn out, but that's not any fun. Anyway, I simply made him too loving. He loved the stars so much he fell from grace for them. He loved you so much he almost let himself get killed. Tragic lovers are a great trope though, so thank you for that.”

“I- Thank you?” He spluttered.

“Yes, thank you! You both are great entertainment. I mean, I’ve been trying to set you up for 6,000 something years, but this is more interesting. All this miscommunication.”

Aziraphale tried to compose himself. Good to know God was…a fan? That She liked cutting off chicken’s heads just to see them run around?

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are quite the catch, Aziraphale.” She smirked. “This is the only universe where someone has actually stopped me from creating an apocalypse. Course I could easily snap my fingers and get rid of this all, but again. Boring.”

“There were other universes before?”

“Well, duh. Forgot your lot tends to think you’re special enough to be the first. No, the only reason the apocalypse was supposed to happen was because I knew I’d lose intrest after 6,000 years. My boredom is the reason anything exists. Honestly I was just gonna make octopus people again.” She laughed casually, as if She wasn’t spilling the secrets of the universe which philosophers had spent their whole lives trying to cultivate. 

The poker chips and cards in front of Aziraphale began to melt, transforming into a chessboard. Instead of regular chess pieces, each piece was a different member of the angel or demon bureaucracy. He thought at first that Heaven would be the white pieces and Hell would be the black, but he realized all the pieces were the same shade of gray. Angels and demons were on either side.

“I honestly quite liked Crowley. Was rather sad when he fell.” God sighed, moving a pawn forward. All the pawns were blank and had wings attached to them, some more tattered than others. 

“Then uhm..” Aziraphale began hesitantly. He didn’t exist anymore- what could God do to punish him now? Well, She could do anything if She pleased. It didn’t matter now though. “Why did you cast him out?”

“Well, I didn’t cast him out.” She insisted. “My angels did. More specifically, The Metatron did.”

“Doesn’t he…speak for you though?”

“Barely! I’ve talked to that asswipe maybe twice. The rest has been vague writing every few hundred years for him to interpret.”

“But aren’t you responsible for the angels?” Aziraphale was waiting for God to yell at him or strike him- anything really. He shouldn’t be asking such bold questions to the Almighty. 

“If you put 10 rats in a maze with 10 slices of cheese, are you responsible for when they start eating eachother after running out of food? Are you responsible for the rats making territories and colonies to fight over? Are you responsible for the rats that starve? I never made any of you do anything, I just didn’t try to stop you all.”

“Why not stop them? Why not provide them with more cheese or take them out of the maze entirely?”

“You still don’t seem to get that it’s simply boring to keep things in order. What fun is reality television without petty conflict? The apple thing was hilarious! You’re telling me y’all are angry that Eve ate from a giant tree in the center of the Garden with a DO NOT TOUCH sign? ‘Course she was gonna do that- it was the point.”

Everything in the universe existed simply because God found it entertaining. All the agony which people had suffered was just for funsies? The thing Aziraphale had spent his life trying to erase was nothing but a fun gimmick for his God? Aziraphale didn’t even want to know what that implied about Jesus. Had Her Son suffered the weight simply because ?

Was there really no point to it all? 

“So is it all just a game to you?”

“An ineffable one. I can tell you're mad.” She sipped a cup of tea She certainly didn’t have before. “Yet you still believe I’m real. You’re still faithful.”

“Well this is real, right?” Aziraphale asked. Maybe he really was just hallucinating. Was this how his mind chose to taunt him for his decisions? Was this how he had to repent for being so awful?

“Is it?” She grinned as She raised an eyebrow, challenging the angel. God laughed at Aziraphale’s look of debate. “It’s real if you believe it’s real.

Perhaps his work meant something. Aziraphale so desperately wanted to prove he wasn’t a bad person. He felt at ease whenever Heaven praised him for his good deeds. Maybe he had earned this.

Or God was bored. He tried hard not to think about the latter. Aziraphale hoped it was a mixture of both. At least if God found him interesting it meant he was worthwhile. 

Crowley found me worthwhile before I ruined that. This was my penance to him. Aziraphale thought mournfully. This is what Heaven had taught him. Apologies and forgiveness came with extremities. He had to prove he was sorry. This was proof, wasn’t it?

He had gone to confession by all means. Isn’t that what that phone call he made to Crowley was? An admission of guilt with a plea for forgiveness. Aziraphale felt bad for hurting Crowley but the angel truly believed he was doing the right thing by going back to Heaven. In all honesty, he still thinks he was but Crowley had been forsaken in the process.

“I just wanted to make Heaven better. Not that I’m insulting You! I just-” Aziraphale sighed, frustrated. 

“That’s also what makes you more intriguing. You actually want to make a difference up there. Funnily enough, that’s part of your flaw.”

“Pardon?”

“Checkmate.” God said in a sing-song voice, despite the fact that the chess board had transformed Monopoly- if you could even call it Monopoly since all the squares were different UNO cards. “You’re so desperate to be a good person, it blinds you. You’ve had the clay put on your eyes so that you can be cured but you never believe in the miracle. You just blind yourself again and hope you’ll forget what it’s like to see.”

“Is this where you always are?” Aziraphale rubbed his wrist anxiously, attempting to understand how to play this game. Chess had been at least a little intelligible even though all the pieces were the same color. This however, was pure nonsense. All of the fake dollar bills were blank index cards and the game pieces were different rocks.

“I simply am where I am, whether that means an absence of me or a surplus of me.” A beat. “Do you blame me for it all, Aziraphale?”

“I think I blame myself if I’m being honest.”

God simply hummed in response, placing down Her tea. She shoved everything off the table. Aziraphale watched as the board and pieces fell through the floor, deeper into the void. 

“I have something for you.” An aged, dusty book appeared on the table. Its hundreds of pages were worn down and softened. A single white feather dipped in ink was next to it. “I’m sure you’re a big fan of books, and I think you’ll find this one particularly useful.”

“Thank you, my God.” Aziraphale reverently placed his hand in prayer as a sign of gratitude. God cringed at this.

“Really, it’s unnecessary to be so formal. It’s like some sort of default response for you or something.” She said through gritted teeth. “Although it’s probably a trauma response. Oopsies.”

Aziraphale clenched his fist. He wasn’t traumatized . How could he be? This was simply the truth of his life, even if it was built on nothing but false hope. Aziraphale was just being respectful and thankful. He was doing what he was supposed to be doing.

“Now I have another thing for you, Azirapahle.” She leaned forward. “I’m gonna send you back. I genuinely didn’t expect things to go like this since I never look into the future but I still want more out of you and Crowley. Been the most interesting thing since the creation of whales.”

Aziraphale stared, his mouth agape. The angel knew in his heart he didn’t want things to end like this. Everything was happening so fast, and there was truly nothing else he could have done. If he had to die to protect Crowley then so be it. But if he was brought back…

“Tha-“

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved Her dismissively, a dim yellow glow illuminating  her hands. Aziraphale clutched onto the book and quill tightly, smiling. “I hope you two know how to use what I’ve given you.”

Chapter Text

A popular belief among those in the church is that when the world ends, seven trumpets will sound. When everything ends, you would at least get to hear the sweet sound of music. If the world had to end with anything, one could only hope it was a melody.

The end of Crowley’s world was silent.

There were no oncoming footsteps of angels to finish him off.  He did not hear the sweet sound of his angel’s voice. He did not hear Muriel enthusiastically talking about their interests. He did not hear the scratching of Aziraphale’s quill as the angel wrote. He did not hear the sound of Muriel gently sipping hot chocolate.

The only real noises were the sobs caught between the demon’s shallow breaths. 

Ashes were scattered where Aziraphale once stood. The sword had simply vanished with the angel, surely scattered somewhere in the pile. If it had stayed, Crowley could at least have one last remnant of his angel and kill all of Heaven personally with it. He remembered how enamored he had been when Aziraphale gave that sword up to Adam and Eve. It was fascinating to watch someone disobey God simply to follow their moral principles. 

Soon, the ashes vanished too. Crowley had been sifting his fingers through it mindlessly. He futilely had searched for signs of life or some sort of clue Aziraphale was still there. The ashes absorbed itself with the ground, and Aziraphale was a part of Heaven forever.

“You self sacrificial bastard!” Crowley shouted at the empty space. He knew Aziraphale couldn’t hear him, but he hoped God could.

 “Are you fucking happy, God? I have nothing now.” He screamed, staring at the ceiling. “You took them both from me.”

God did not answer.

God did not care.

Crowley had made it a part of his mission to protect Muriel. It had been his goal ever since he realized how innocent they were. Good people were always in the midst of evil, and Muriel had been one of those cases. Crowley knew what it was like to be secluded and he knew Muriel could relate to him. They both had been ostracized from Heaven simply for being different .

The key difference was Muriel hadn’t been hurt. Crowley had intended to keep it that way. He could feel phantom sensations of when he fell, knowing Muriel must be facing the same pain. If he focused on the silence enough he could have sworn he heard Muriel’s screaming.

Crowley clawed at the ground where the angel's remains had once been. Perhaps he could unearth Aziraphale’s body if he ruined the very foundation the angel had seeped into. Heaven’s floors were too solid to be broken through with bare hands. Even with tools, the ground would have remained unchanging and unforgiving much like the very establishment that was built upon it.

The crack of his knuckles echoed around the empty halls as he slammed the tile. Still, the floor remained intact. Aziraphale was unreachable no matter how much Crowley fought. Perhaps the angel always had been. Or maybe Crowley hadn’t tried hard enough to reach out. 

How long had he loved Aziraphale? Crowley couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt this affection for the angel. Has it always been love? Has every giddy smile and laugh been love? How long had Crowley been blind?

The absence of having something to love felt much like when he fell. On the day Crowley had been casted out, he had thought of the stars and what would become of them. He thought of the ruin they would fall into without Crowley there to love them. 

He hadn’t saved Aziraphale nor had he saved Muriel. 

Crowley had made Muriel like him. He had turned Muriel into the one thing he hated the most- himself . He had a nightmare like this every now and again. Muriel would plunge into the tar, gagging as the thick substance flooded their lungs. He would be sitting at the edge of the lake offering his hand out to them but Muriel would simply be dragged down under. 

Perhaps it had been a prophecy.

He needed to get up. He needed to find Muriel. They’d be somewhere in Hell, right? Sure, he wasn’t exactly welcome there but he couldn’t care less at this point. Crowley could burn down Heaven later because someone needed to care for Muriel. The days after falling are nothing but agonizing pain.

Hell had been in its earlier stages, but it wasn’t anymore forgiving. Despite the aching pain his whole body was going through, Crowley had immediately been put to work. There was no rest for sinners like him.

Muriel was no sinner. They were a lamb which had been led to slaughter by the shepherd they trusted the most. 

Crowley shakily pushed himself off the ground. He couldn’t leave Muriel alone like that. Hell would be everything Muriel hated, from the stench down to the mere color. He awkwardly stumbled over his legs as he pushed himself upwards.

Humming broke the silence.

It wasn’t like the hum of a choir. It was the humming you heard radiating from celestial objects. Humans could never pick up on the noise but Crowley had designed the universe to constantly sing. He had long forgotten the notes, but his memory had been jogged once more as he heard the song.

The floor pulsated and sparkled as though it were gilded. Speckles of gold began to raise themselves from the ground. A breeze that came from nowhere picked up the specks of gold like they were leaves, spinning them around like a tornado. The speed began to pick up more and more as the gold began to form a shape.

And like a phoenix, Aziraphale rose from the ashes.

The angel gasped as he clumsily fell onto the tiled floor, a weathered book gripped tightly in his hands. He was once more in his regular beige outfit instead of that awfully ugly gray suit. He was panting heavily as he curled in on himself.

“Angel?” Crowley quickly rushed to Aziraphale’s side. 

“Crowley?” He spoke the demon's name so lovingly as he looked up from the ground. Crowley was finally looking into Aziraphale’s eyes. That all encompassing blue that made Crowley think of the summer sky looked so shaken up.

“I’m…” Aziraphale’s voice trembled as tears began to stream. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m-“

“I don’t want your bloody apologies, angel.” Crowley wiped Aziraphale’s tears, cupping his face.

“But you can’t- you can’t just forgive me- I ruined everything-“ Aziraphale insisted, moving Crowley’s hands away. 

“It wasn’t just your fault, angel. I didn’t try to see things from your perspective. I just want you safe now, okay? We have bigger issues on hand right now.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “ Never do that again. I can’t bear to see you getting hurt anymore.” 

Over the last 6,000 years they had known each other, Crowley had watched as Aziraphale shriveled up from the rejection he faced in Heaven. Anytime the angel would make a report, he always came back looking rather discouraged. Perhaps his superiors had not hurt Aziraphale physically, but they sure had done damage to his psyche. 

“I really did have our best interest in mind.” Aziraphale sighed. There was a moment of silence as the two simply locked hands. Concerns of soldiers being sent for them was the last thing on their mind as long as they had this moment.

“How are you here though? And what’s with the bloody book?” Crowley finally broke the silence. There was something familiar about it, but it was also rather generic looking. Leather bound and stained pages were nothing to gawk at, after all. 

“It’s rather blurry.” The angel broke off from Crowley, picking up the book. “I haven’t a clue how I got here or what this is supposed to be.”

Crowley laid out the book, skimming through the words. It was a long, itemized list of different events in the universe like the birth or death of someone. Despite how long this book should have been, it seemed to be nothing more than maybe 300 pages.

The demon shook with the jarring realization of what was in his hands.

“Aziraphale- Aziraphale, this is the book of life. ” The final few entries read as: Muriel falls , something scribbled out, and Aziraphale is reborn . How could he have forgotten? Crowley had held it only a few times when he was an angel, but it had been necessary for some of the more important bits of the universe such as the beginning of earth.

“What..?” Azirphale stuttered incredulously. Gears turned at light speed in his head as he picked up the neglected quill. Although he loved reading, Aziraphale was also a writer. He had spent thousands of years perfecting his penmanship. He had infinite power with his words now. “We could stop the Second Coming with this!”

In his quickest yet neatest penmanship, Aziraphale wrote “ Any plans for the Second Coming will be permanently forgotten.” The words pulsated the same shade of gold Aziraphale’s ashes had. He then wrote “Muriel is safe in the bookshop, no longer a fallen angel.”  

Crowley stared for a moment before shakily adding “ and doesn’t remember falling. ”

He could feel himself being dragged down under all over again just thinking about it. It took him so long to not constantly be back at that lake, and he’s still not sure if he ever left. Even if they were no longer fallen, Muriel would forever be transformed after an experience like that. A fledgling didn’t deserve to have its wings torn off. 

“We need to go.” Crowley carefully shut the book close, dust hitting his nose. He pushed himself up and offered Aziraphale his hand. The angel gladly took it, looking lovingly into the demon’s yellow eyes.

God smiled, knowing She had done the right thing.

++++++++++++

Muriel hit a cold, concrete floor. Swampy green lights hit their eyes as they gagged out black ink. It was still lodged in their lungs and regurgitating it was physically painful. 

“Oi, get up.” A demon towered over Muriel as they shakily pushed themself off the ground, glaring at them. He eyed Muriel up and down before calling out to someone. “New arrival.”

“Watscha name?” His sharp yellow teeth seemed to sparkle like gold as his awful breath hit Muriel’s nose. 

“It’s-“ A wave of painful static shot through Muriel’s body as they tried to say their name. The demon laughed at how Muriel flinched.

“Everytime.” He chortled. “Ya can’t say your goody two shoes name anymore. We’ll find a new name for that new face of yours.”

A rusted, dirtied mirror was near where Muriel had fallen. Their eyes were the same shade as Crowley’s now, but they lacked the same snakelike slit he possessed. Brown, ruffled feathers decorated their face and arms. Their hands had sharp, claw-like nails. Muriel knew all demons had some sort of animal association and theirs seemed to be an owl.

“How bout we call ya-” Before he could finish, Muriel vanished.  “Shit man, since when could any of us do that?”

++++++++++++

Muriel fell clumsily onto the floor. They had been hugging themself, preparing to fall down that ledge. One moment they could feel hands on their back pushing them off and the next they were somehow in the bookshop. 

Like worried mother hens, Crowley and Aziraphale flocked to Muriel. No amount of relief Muriel had felt in their life compared to the sight of the both of them alive. Aziraphale’s eyes were no longer that daunting shade of purple, and he was wearing his signature outfit once more. The burning sword Aziraphale had been holding before was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” The demon checked Muriel for injuries, his teeth gritted at the idea of them being injured. Aziraphale was on Muriel’s other side, a panging guilt apparent in his face. He was scared to get closer to Muriel, fearful he may break them again.

“I’m okay.” Muriel kept their words simple as they gave a small smile at the duo. They shivered at the idea of what could have happened if Muriel didn’t get sucked back into the bookshop sooner. 

“I’m terribly sorry for what happened to you, Muriel. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” Aziraphale insisted. His skin prickled at the mere memory of losing control. He had been an outsider to his own body, only thinking of the goal the Metatron had assigned him. Every ounce of care he had for those around him was simply gone.

Muriel wordlessly wrapped their arms around Aziraphale, tightly hugging him. They could feel the tension fall from Aziraphale’s shoulders as a small sigh of relief escaped from his throat. Their forgiveness was far more than Aziraphale felt he deserved, but the load of guilt on his back had lightened. 

“How did- how did you guys get me here, though?” One moment they had been shoved off the ledge and the next they were in the bookshop. Muriel hadn’t seen anyone approach them, nor did they get here themselves. It had been such a short time frame, yet the pair had managed to solve the problem?

Was Muriel missing something? 

No, that was a silly idea. They needed to have more faith in Crowley and Aziraphale abilities. 

“Writing is a rather powerful tool.” Azirapahle replied mysteriously. Muriel finally noticed the leather book in his hands. They had never seen it in their life, and it honestly looked rather mundane.

“What are you gonna do with that book anyway?” Crowley asked, doing his signature eyebrow raise. Aziraphale simply hummed in response before placing the book on one of the many shelves. No passerby would have even spared it a glance.

“Can we try again, dear? No worries of Heaven and Hell, right and wrong. Can we just…be an us?” Aziraphale gently grabbed the demon’s hand.

“Y’know, I’ve heard Alpha Centauri is lovely this time of year.” Crowley grinned.

+★ * ★+