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After Parousia- Arise
The resurrection of all the dead, "of both the just and the unjust", will precede the Last Judgment. This will be "the hour when all who are in the tombs will hear the Son of man's voice and come forth, those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment". Then Christ will come "in his glory, and all the angels with him... Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate them one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will place the sheep at his right hand, but the goats at the left... And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life".
In the presence of Christ, who is Truth itself, the truth of each man's relationship with God will be laid bare. The Last Judgment will reveal even to its furthest consequences the good each person has done or failed to do during his earthly life.
The Last Judgement
The storm abated. The battering noise receded. The mist cleared away. Scared up birds slowly calmed down. The Parousia was fought off.
Yet the incipient silence was rather painful. Not one of the persons present broke into applause. No chorus of praise in the wake of devastation.
The devastation Aziraphale had helped to initiate. Once again, he had been deceived and abused for what celestial authorities called the “greater good”- which in fact meant nothing but total extinction of those found “unworthy” of God’s mercy, condemned by the one Son and executed by the angelic hosts. An onslaught repelled by a handful of humans, ancient allies- and Crowley. Of course, he was there. He always was, as sure as night follows day.
And finally, by Aziraphale himself. Because no matter how trusting he was, it couldn’t make him turn a blind eye to the cruel fate for the world he had come to cherish so much during past millennia. He made a stand- as he had done before. But he knew that this time would be definite. Irreversible. For him, for his existence. Considering this fact, a sudden dizziness seized him. About to prostrate, Aziraphale stumbled two shaking steps forward. Bloody weak mortal bodies ceased to work properly at the most inconceivable moments. He rallied and walked a bit further off. Where did he want to go?
“Aziraphale…”, Crowley ventured an approach, but to no avail. The sayee didn’t react.
“Let him grief, only for a moment.”, Nina retained him. But it wasn’t grief Aziraphale felt. It was despair. Humiliation. Helplessness. The weight of guilt that threatened to suffocate him.
Watching an angel spread their wings was always a formidable sight, full of grace and dignity. Especially for Nina and Maggie, who had never witnessed it before. The unsuspicious bookseller Mr. Fell, who loved classical music, tea and had a fondness for Jane Austen novels, now stood barely ten metres away from them, the white feathers softly waving with the wind. But the sight that left humans in astonishment caused an uneasy feeling in Crowley’s stomach. Aziraphale seemed to enfold himself in a feathery embrace. Why would he do that in such a moment? Seeking some kind of solace?
“Aziraphale, no! STOP!”
For a moment, Crowley froze in shock, as he watched the angel grabbing the remiges of his wings by their quills and ripping them out! An anguished cry arose from the top of Aziraphale’s lungs. He had to get rid of these physical monuments of treachery! These wings would carry him nowhere, they would only cast eternal shadows of infamy upon and around him.
Enough already! Crowley fought off the hand holding him back, he couldn’t watch Aziraphale do this to himself. Only like a dull echo, he heared the others scream in fright as he took a hold on the figure that bowed with suffering. His hands fought to loosen the grip of Aziraphale's desperate fingers holding on tight to ruptured feathers.
“Angel.”
One word. An expression of all the feelings he could never explain properly. A word he had already used so many times to address his ineffable companion. To humans, it sounded like a pet name. To Crowley, it was a term of friendship, a statement of affection. A constant confession for everything Aziraphale meant to him. But this time was different. They were different. So many things had changed between them. They both knew, even if neither had worked up the courage to speak it out yet. Sensitivities caught up in a whirlwind of occurrences.
“I didn’t mean to…this was not-”, Aziraphale stuttered before he was carefully interrupted.
“Not the right place to wither in self-blame. Please stop hurting yourself. Let’s just get you to…wherever. Just away from here.”
Much to his relief, his words got through to Aziraphale and he let go of his tattered wings. But before Crowley put his words into action, he checked up with their allies. Nobody wanted to linger in this place any longer.
“Don’t worry, we’re okay. Just make sure that Mr…I mean Aziraphale gets back home safely.”, Nina encouraged Crowley, who just nodded in return before he turned to his angelic companion again. He seemed to be petrified with horror. Right now, there was only one place for them to go anyway. The only home they had left. The bookshop in Whickber Street in Soho, London.
Crowley linked arms with Aziraphale as they made their way to the wagon. It had been a wise decision to not come here in his Bentley, because the demon would need both his two hands and his attention for physical and mental support. What a day for an emotional reunion. A nervous anxiety arose in his chest. This would be a long, dark night.
The ride back to the bookshop was coloured in uneasy silence. Every now and then, Anathema risked a glance at the unlikely couple behind her. Despite the tangible tension between Crowley and Aziraphale, their hands had meanwhile found one another, while the former kept his left arm put around the latter’s’ sagging shoulders.
Was the Whickber Street still in Soho and Soho still part of London? The return trip seemed endless. Aziraphale was completely spaced out, seemingly seeking for a light in his darkened mind. There was no Heaven he could go back to. He would remain on earth, without epiphany, without salvation. But why going back at all? What could he expect to find? How to live up to an existence he gave up willingly? How to make up for all the damage he had done? How to apologise to all the people he let down. How to beg forgiveness from…him?
Was that the retribution for his disobedience? Was he never meant to truly ascend?
“Finally.”, Crowley mumbled, startling Aziraphale out of his dull pursuit of truth. At last, they had made it back to the acquainted surroundings. Bars and cafés were already closed, a rather odd case given the fact that it was Saturday evening. But then again, nobody would spend their time in leisure pursuit during doomsday.
Muriel was already waiting for them. The amiable curious and slightly scatty shop assistant was a precious constant during these days of chaos. Moreover, they had proven themselves as a reliable and strongheaded ally in the divine resistance movement. They had grown so much and would surely find their place in this world. Crowley kind of hoped they would stick around; he felt a serious sympathy for them.
Crowley and Aziraphale got out of the car, and Anathema and Newt made their farewells with a few words forthwith. Crowley felt his heartbeat speed up again, though he couldn’t figure out the actual reason. Weird sense of corporality. This was the place he had been both with and without Aziraphale countless times before. It had burned down and miraculously been rebuilt during the planned but cancelled first Armageddon. Sheer endless discussions had been led inside these walls, with the usual outcome of Aziraphale having his way. Just once, he was denied it.
Crowley inhaled sharply, intending to fight a most unpleasant memory- and the feelings following it…
Would things have taken another turn if he had been more insistent, or could he have been more persuasive? If he hadn’t left the shop after literally pulling Aziraphale into their emotionally painful first kiss, what could have happened next? These questions had been hunting the demon ever since the day him and his angelic mate parted ways.
Too late. It was no longer an issue and more urgent matters required his attention now.
He looked over to Maggie and Nina, who had been following behind into the bookshop. Thanks to their common time and especially Nina’s support, they had become as good as confidants. So, it didn’t take any words for the women to know where things stood. Maggie then turned to Muriel, sensitively conveying the necessity of giving some time and space for Aziraphale and Crowley to finally "speak out their minds". But before they could leave, there was something Muriel had to say.They addressed themselves directly to Aziraphale:
“I know you are no traitor. You never were. You stood up for all those low-ranking angels who couldn’t stand up for themselves, who didn’t have a voice. We were the nobodies that remained unnoticed. Because of you, we’re somebody now. You made a difference. For me, for us. And we will never forget that. Thank you for remembering us.”
The words had an impact on Aziraphale- a massive impact, considering the mental state he was in. His previously downcast expression brightened visibly for a moment. It wasn’t an actual smile, but it was so much more than Crowley could have hoped for. He nodded to Muriel appreciatively before the junior angel followed Maggie and Nina out of the bookshop.
Crowley and Aziraphale were finally left to themselves. The time they needed for their heart-to-heart talk. They needed it for a long time already, but never more desperately than at this precise moment. Because this wasn't a face-off about hurt feelings or different opinions; it went deeper. It was an approaching tragedy that shouldn't happen unsheltered. The following events would be accompanied by suffering, loss and anguish. At the sound of the door closing, Crowley snapped his left fingers and the lock clicked. He closed his eyes, carefully awaiting the upcoming confrontation. He knew Aziraphale inside and out for millennia, but never he had seen him that upset and bewildered. The ghost of a smile had disappeared from the angel’s face again. There was nothing Crowley could say for pacification, so he would listen…
“The Second Coming, I thought…the Metatron told me it would be…a new beginning and we could set wrong things right. The rebuilding, the redemption of the fallen. True forgiveness, with evil being eradicated. No suffering, do you understand? You should have been there, should have seen it with your own eyes. I asked you to come with me. To make…a difference. Why didn’t you come with me? What was so much more important for you that you had to stay here? Where were you when I needed you most!?”
“I’m here, right by your side.”, Crowley replied all calm and steady.
“Crowley…”, and Aziraphale’s voice cracked.
“You’re not alone.”, Crowley frowned persistently. He knew Aziraphale was going through an experience he himself had already made long ago. Though for a soul as pure and humble as Aziraphale’s, it would be so much more shattering.
The Fall…
It wasn’t a physical experience of falling. It was the moment in which an entire existence was shattered into a million pieces. When everything one believed in crumbled to dust. The moment of losing all destination...
Aziraphale quailed. He gasped for air- an all too human reaction to the situation. His eyes flickered, so he covered them with his hands. His mind turned blank, unable to think straight. “I was wrong. All the time. It was all lies. You tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t see it. Couldn’t see it. Didn’t…didn’t want to-you were right. All the time.”
But this was not the time for an apology dance. Aziraphale didn’t need lectures or mockery now. He needed help.
“I understand…” and Crowley did understand.
As he pulled Aziraphale close to himself with the aim of locking him up in a comforting embrace, Crowley himself was overcome by the wildest composition of emotions. And once again, he realised how much he cared for this precious person.
“What have I done? This was all my fault. How can I ever…”, but Aziraphale couldn’t speak on.
“I forgive you.”
These three words, coming from Crowley's lips, unleashed all the emotions Aziraphale desperately tried to contain, so they wouldn't bring about more damage than had already been done. With tear-filled eyes, Aziraphale cried out in agony, unable to contain himself any longer. The pain, the shame, the guilt, it all rained down on him unrestrained. The damage he had done, the betrayal. He had been betrayed by Heaven- again. But he himself felt like the worst traitor, for he had betrayed his best friend, his intimate, his love. Through millennia, Crowley had been the absolute term in his world, his universe. Without him, Heaven had been a cold and empty place. And how many times he had wished to go back? Every single moment of being separated had left an wound on Aziraphale's soul. Without his other half, he didn't want to exist, be it in Heaven or Hell.
Crowley tightened his embrace, his right hand tenderly tickling Aziraphale’s neck. He was determined to walk that dark road alongside his beloved soulmate. Within their embrace, Aziraphale held on for dear existence. In the face of his darkest hours, when all hope seemed to be lost irretrievably, Crowley’s lean stature stood solid as a rock, giving the support no one else could offer. And he felt so comfortably warm…
Up to this day, Aziraphale had still considered Crowley at least a lose part of the “dark side”, tainted and in need to be purified. His short temper, his occasional verbal outbreaks, the fire within him, his powers- a stigma from Hell that Aziraphale had hoped to quench one day. A cure for the wounds that The Fall caused to him once.
But why did the fire’s warmth feel so comfortable now? How could his embrace give so much solace and well-being? And why did he smell that good? Why hadn’t Aziraphale noticed it earlier? Or had he? And then tried to muzzle these ineffable emotions for his attractive counterpart for centuries? He was from the “other side”, after all…or was he? But why did he still stand here then? Why did Aziraphale feel Crowley’s right hand brushing up and down his back? Why did the demon’s gentle touches have such an immense effect on him? Why did he savour every second of it so intensely? Why did he wish to never let go of him again?
And once more, it came home to him that Crowley had been right all the time. They were on the same side- on their side. And it was about time that Aziraphale was true to his own feelings. He didn’t want to fight them any longer. But here he was, in the cesspit of his existential crisis, bereft of any audacity. He didn’t even dare to look into Crowley’s eyes. The remains of Aziraphale’s former presence laid open and exposed like raw flesh; his self-esteem scattered to the four winds.
“What I did is unforgivable.”
“I once told you that I’m unforgivable. But you forgave me.”
“You can’t compare your defiance and a few shenanigans to the Last Judgement, Crowley! All the people who would’ve been sentenced to slavery or eternal torture, the damnation of all those deemed unworthy of God’s mercy…do you know what that would’ve meant for them? Suffering for…”, but Aziraphale couldn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Because Crowley knew. Of course he did. He knew it all too well. He had been expelled from Heaven and condemned to torment in Hell. Only his sheer force of will had kept him alive and allowed him an existence as a demon. It was a compromise he had been willing to make in order to survive.
Aziraphale heaved a desperate sigh. He finally saw reason, and it just added to his remorse.
“When I fell and lost everything, when there was nothing left for me to cling on to, you were by my side, angel. You were a friend where I couldn’t expect to find one. Despite your constant denial of our friendship, you came back and stayed with me. Because of you, I wasn’t lonely anymore. We walked this world together for millennia, defied the odds to work as a team- a chaotic team at times, and that’s for sure. You scolded me, you tried to lecture me, and in the end, you made me a better person. With your help, I failed at being the demon Hell wanted to make of me.”, Crowley fondly breathed into Aziraphale’s ear.
“I turned my back on you. You tried to warn me, and I didn’t understand. You confessed your feelings for me and I…I…”, was the angel’s repentant reply.
“You weren’t ready. I asked for something you couldn’t give me. And you offered something I couldn’t accept. Now I know you wanted to help me. But Heaven is no home for me anymore. Maybe it never was. You said you didn’t listen to me, and neither did I listen to you. But I’m listening now, angel.”, Crowley offered in affirmation.
Where to begin? How to explain something that turned out to be an illusion? How to talk about his worst defeat? Aziraphale tried to gather the thoughts in his disordered mind as good as he could.
“For once in my entire existence, I thought I had the opportunity to make a change for the better. I never helped create the universe or achieve anything else of importance. I was just there, a mere Principality, spending my time amongst humans, copying their behaviour. My own kin sneered at me. They mocked me for hiding behind a demon’s back whenever things got serious. I was called a traitor time and again. I was deprived of all possibilities to…help. And then suddenly, I was offered to become the Supreme Archangel. I saw the chance to make a difference for the better. More importantly, I could see that justice would be done…to you. You know, ever since the day you were sent away to Hell, there was this void. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there. Maybe you don’t even remember when we first met, but I certainly do. How could I ever forget it? You were…gorgeous. And then, one day, I heard you had been expelled from Heaven. Thenceforth, our friendship was condemned, I became an outcast myself. I was torn between this friendship with you and my duties as an angel. So, by accepting the Metatron’s offer, I hoped I could finally find my purpose, together with you. I wanted to give something back for everything you ever did for me. I thought that this time, I could be the one to help you. I did not even consider that you did not want to go back to Heaven, or why. In the end, I only made things worse. You were gone and my only purpose was to initiate a celestial purge. What was it all good for? For nothing. I achieved nothing. I abandoned my only friend for nothing. I left you behind for nothing!”
Aziraphale’s words were painted in dark colours, yet they brought light to the shadows. After all the confusion and misunderstandings between them, Crowley could see the whole picture. On the surface, Aziraphale always appeared as the bubbly harum-scarum who existed for books, delicious food and doing his little miracles as some kind of neighbourly help. But the one thing he had sorely missed during his time on earth was to finally do what he believed to be cut out for: being an angel. Doing good for those who needed help. Giving hope to the lost. That charming curly head wasn’t one of those haughty celestials who resided on the top floor with no clue about worldly needs and matters. He was the paragon of an angel; he internalised their calling. And for that reason alone, he couldn’t simply pack up all his stuff and run off whenever he was so minded. Crowley himself had repeatedly tried to restrain Aziraphale from his self-imposed duties by luring him with his own secret desires. And at this instant, the demon felt miserable about it. How could he not have seen his best friend's inner strife, his weakened self-confidence?
“You heard Muriel’s words- you did achieve something. You made a difference. I’m sorry, for I couldn’t be the friend you needed. I wish it could’ve been different. You deserved better.”
“I got exactly what I deserve. I had everything and did not value it. So, I gave it away and got nothing in return. Maybe that was the ineffable plan for me, after all. Or it is, how humans call it, my fate.”, Aziraphale mused embittered.
“You don’t really believe that, do you? If the recent chaos taught us one thing, then it’s that we all have a purpose. And what’s even more important, we have a choice. God gave you a choice and you did the right thing at the right moment. If you hadn’t returned to Heaven, who knows what would’ve happened? Saving this world wouldn't have been possible without you.”
“But if I was not meant to stay in Heaven, what is my purpose now, Crowley? Why am I here? What was I made for after all?”, the angel literally begged for an answer.
So, this was the moment Crowley had been waiting for- that he could finally lay it on the line for Aziraphale to understand. After an eternity of talking past each other, they met at eye level. No higher authorities would piss on the demon’s parade this time. Crowley considered for a heroically long moment before he framed the desired answer.
“For the same reason I was made.”
Crowley could hear Aziraphale gasping for breath. And he took another notable break before he continued, making sure Aziraphale would get the message right this time. They uncoupled barely enough for Crowley to look into the angel’s eyes that still flickered nervously. Just when the demon was sure he had his favourite’s full attention for himself, he finished:
“You and I were made for each other, angel.”
Could it be that simple? The epiphany Aziraphale had been hoping for since his first day. No honorary title he would be awarded with. All he had ever aspired, all his longing, the inner restlessness- settled with one simple sentence. More than 6000 years of trying to find his place, albeit he had already found it. If he wasn’t meant to be with Crowley, why would God let them stay together for an entire existence? It was the moment of truth and it hit him in the most beautiful way. These words enlightened his darkened thoughts, they soothed his churned-up mind. He could finally come to rest now- he could come back home. So many thing that had been said tonight, there was no need for any more words. Aziraphale just closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to be loved just the way he was, by the one who meant the world to him...
…and after an eternity of pining and fantasising, they could enjoy the pleasure of a perfectly deep, ardent kiss. Born from the most vulnerable experience they had ever shared; this newfound level of intimacy wasn’t burdened with rejection or fear any longer. It was honest, it was mutual, and it was the atonement they both needed. It smoothly merged into additional caresses and affinity. Starting from their needy embrace, hands slowly set out for further exploration over well-known yet unexplored territory. Pain turned into comfort; fear converted to devotion. Feelings so unfamiliar, yet so artless and easy to share. It felt complete.
The last thing Crowley would’ve expected next was to find himself in a rearward motion against one of the massive bookshelves. The crashing sound and a god-awful physical response of pain in his back signified him there was no space left to dodge any further. But the warm, demanding lips pressed on his own compensated that minor inconvenience without delay. Crowley’s heart suddenly casted somersaults- when during the last thirty seconds Aziraphale had become so fervid? But one thing was for sure: he was quite a skilled kisser and he devoted himself to the moment in full.
It wasn’t certain when Muriel would return to the bookshop- they couldn’t be shut out the whole night. But Crowley had enough trust into Maggie and Nina to know they would cover his back for a while. And he wouldn’t let that opportunity go to waste, taking the time for healing wounds that couldn’t be mended with words. So, the demon leaned back against the spacious wooden furniture, eagerly awaiting further sensual treatment. And for the moment, it seemed that Aziraphale completely forgot to take any care of his precious books…