Chapter Text
Aziraphale's hand tightened on the pen in his hand, the muscles in his shoulder aching slightly as he bent down further to peer at the muddled angelic runes that stared back up at him.
His office was silent, save for the occasional fluttering sound of paper drifting from the ceiling to land neatly in a pile at the edge of his desk. Ready for him to sign and pass on. The room was white, starch white with a fake orchard sitting on a white slim table near his door. His nameplate sat perfectly centred on his desk and the lamp that hang over him was gently lit.
His eyes were tired, profile drooping slightly as he found himself succumbing to the exhaustion that wore at him. It niggled away at his mind, the runes blurring together until they formed a sort of squiggly blot that made no sense whatsoever.
His grip on his own was relaxing, finally not trying to stay away as he slumped over and let his forehead rest dutifully on topnof the pile of paper in front of him.
Aziraphale had been at full speed ahead since leaving Earth, and not for the first time, he missed his warm bookshop and wooden desk. Everything in this office was cold, from the tile to the whiteness of it, from the steel frames to the minimalistic look Heaven had going in.
Indeed, Aziraphale only had himself to blame for his predicament but he'd never admit that aloud.
Slowly, his eyes closed. Breathing beginning to settle as he listened to the soft fluttering sounds of paper, allowing it to lull him into one of the few naps he'd ever taken.
"What are you doing here?" Crowley's voice was rough, and Aziraphale's eyes landed on the familiar figure sitting awkwardly on the park bench.
"I always come here to think." Aziraphale replied, his voice sounding different than how it would if he were to actually say it.
"Well this is my spot. Go find your own." Crowley snarled as he turned his head away, refusing to look at his old friend.
"Crowley, must it be like this?"
With no reply, Aziraphale sighed with annoyance.
"I merely just wanted to do this together!" Aziraphale exclaimed.
"So did I. Only I didn't want the toxicity of Heaven or Hell chasing us again! I thought we carved out a slice of life for ourselves, Angel? What happened to that?!" Crowley's anger exploded.
If they had been conversing on the street, the world would've seen red lightning shoot from Crowley and wondered if he was on fire, but this was only a dream and their dream talks never allowed them to hurt themselves or each other.
"We did, I jus-""
"Just what? What impossibly non-selfish excuse could you give me right now that would possibly explain you asking me back to Heaven? Back to the place that cast me out and down for asking questions, the place that burned away my angelica, the very essance of who I was and ruined my reputation forever!"
Aziraphale did not speak, his eyes focused solely on the furious anger that poured from every pore Crowley had.
"Crowley," Aziraphale's voice was soft.
"No Angel, I've decided I don't want to hear your answer. I've waited long enough for you to realise that they don't care about you, but I did. I will no longer stand by you, no longer protect you and I certainly will not side with you. You've killed this, Aziraphale." Crowley spoke definitely, standing up from the park bench they'd sat at so many times.
"You've killed me." Crowley added before his image began to fade like a wind blowing smoke through a clearing.
With Crowley gone, Aziraphale turned to stare at the water. The lake was shimmering in his dream, but his hand were clenched and tears fell freely down his face. He sucked in a shaky breath, lifting one fist to grab at his mouth, trying to smother the sob that began to wrack at his body.
Aziraphale's eyes flicked awake and alert as the door to his office was opened.
"Aziraphale! How are we getting along?" Metatron's voice was grating on Aziraphale's now fresh nerves.
"Fine." Was all the Angel could muster.
His strength was weakening and it wasn't because of Heaven this time.
"Fine? Just fine? You're back home, Aziraphale! Don't you feel it? Heaven's light healing you? Taking away all that demonic influence that had taken its claws into you?!" Metatron spoke as he moved further into Aziraphale's office.
"I didn't have demonic cla-"
"Oh pish posh Aziraphale. You are too kind to speak ill of those below but the vermin will be wiped away once we win the war. Hell will cease to exist and we will all live Heaven on Earth. Humans will have no choice but to bend to us and to God." Metetron replied, his eyes crinkling up with a smile.
Aziraphale's blood ran cold.
"God? Just the one God? What about all the others? What about other faiths?" Aziraphale asked, as he sat taller in his seat.
"There is only one true God." Metatron replied, his smile melting into a stern grim line.
Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the words. It was wrong. So many cultures, so many faiths.. all wiped away because of what? Because one Faith decided to stand taller than the rest?
Aziraphale hated that thought. All humans having to bend the knee to one thing or die. That wasn't choice, that was.. manslaughter.
Crowley had been right.
There wasn't a difference between Heaven and Hell, and there certainly wasn't a difference between either of them wanting to destroy Earth.
"So." Metatron broke Aziraphale from his thoughts.
"We have a task for you, it requires your special talents and it will certainly require your love of Heaven to be tested. Now that the armies of Heaven have been dispatched to cleanse the Earth of Demonic influence, we can begin the clean up."
Aziraphale stood up, hip knocking into the desk from the urgency.
"You what?" Aziraphale started, panic crossing his mind.
Metatron tilted his head.
"Aziraphale, your pet Demon had a choice. He chose to stay among the humans. We cannot begin the most important phase of the plan until all wandering demons are put to rest." Metatron said, a danger lurking in his brown eyes as they fixated kn Aziraphale.
"You're going to kill him?" Aziraphale's lip and hand trembled at the thought.
"No, you are." Metetron replied, gauging Aziraphale's reaction.
Time slowed, the paper fell more slowly, less rhythmic as Aziraphale took a deep shuddering breath. His hands reaching out to stabilise in front of him. Gripping the desk as his vision tightened and tunnelled.
The Metatron was calling his name but the Angel heard none of it. Six thousand years of friendship, of laughter, of car rides, picnics and glasses clinking together flashed before his eyes. Six thousand years of the word Angel being said by an equally intelligent and important immortal being that never aged, never withered and never failed to show up when Aziraphale needed him. It all flashed so quick, in time with his heavy breaths as he saw each important moment. Before it finally landed on the last time Aziraphale had seen, felt and tasted Crowley.
"You've killed me."
Crowley had said it right to his dream face. How had the Demon seen all this coming? How had Aziraphale allowed himself to become so blinded by the light of Heaven, this wasn't what he wanted at all.
"No." It didn't sound like Aziraphale but it was indeed him who said it.
"No?" Metetron dragged out surprised.
"I will not be your weapon, I will not harm anyone and I certainly will not kill Crowley." Aziraphale replied, his hands turning to fists as they rested on the desk.
"You've become too attached to this demon, Aziraphale. We can cleanse you of this. Organise a wipe, a memory clearance if you'd like." Metatron was using that tone, the one where he was threatening but tried to mask it over as kindness.
"Never." Aziraphale answered, his eyes flicking to the paper on his desk.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Aziraphale. You agreed to help me, to help us!" The voice of God extended his hand.
Aziraphale's eyes focused on it, staring at it and almost wishing he could will it out of existence.
"Is this what God wants? Or what you think they want?" Aziraphale asked, his voice tense.
"You dare question me!" Metatron's anger exploded and the room seemed to darken.
Aziraphale searched the room for anything, he couldn't exactly run away with Metatron blocking the exit and he was much much weaker than the older Angel. Aziraphale's eyes landed on the gold coin on his desk.
It was the only other thing in his pocket the day he agreed to rejoin Heaven. It was the gold coin that Aziraphale never managed to trick Crowley with but did so for everyone else.
His fingers slid it off the desk as Metatron continued to ramble in anger. One last magic trick, to fool the most powerful being in Heaven.
Almost as quickly as he started, Metatron stopped speaking as Aziraphale held up the coin between his fingers.
"What's that?"
"This, is what the humans call a coin. It's currency for them, buys them things." Aziraphale replied, waving it a little to make sure the Metatron was focusing on it.
Balancing it on the tip of his finger, he flicked it up and when it began to fly through the air, the Metatron's eyes following it, Azirpahale ran.
The coin landed in Metatron's outstretched hand, before he blinked to an empty room. His lip turned upwards.
"Fine. SECURE THAT ANGEL!" Metatron's voice boomed out across the Heaven's.
Azirpahale ran down a flight of stairs, quickly ducking into a room to avoid a rush of Angels that ran past. The door was barely open a crack as he watched them go, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
When the coast was clear, Aziraphale peeked his head out before taking off again. His suit flapped around as he ran, the ground echoing his movements and giving away his position.
He just needed to get to the Elevator.
No. It would be guarded now. Metatron wasn't stupid, he knew what Aziraphale would do.
He whirled on his feet and rushed into the nearest empty office, closing the door and locking it. As quick as he could, he rushed to the other side of the desk and sunk down underneath it, hiding.
Aziraphale took a second to catch his breath.
He was stuck with no way out of Heaven.
Closing his eyes, Aziraphale willed himself to dream state. Maybe he could contact Crowley from there, to let him know what's happened.
Maybe he could get some help, maybe just maybe Crowley would could he-
That thought stopped, Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly.
He couldn't rely on Crowley to rescue him this time. He was well and truly on his own.