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Chapter Text

Prologue: The Beginning of the Journey

Aziraphale had always been a peculiar angel. He never fit in with the other angels. He cared a little too much, was a little too curious. It made him a bit of an outsider. As he grew and moved up in the ranks, he learned to mask the things that made him different, that made him stand out. Mostly.

The light-haired angel only ever met one other angel who seemed to share a similar curiosity and awe, who didn’t look at him with disdain, a beautiful red-haired star maker. Aziraphale had been on his own, as he usually was, when he suddenly heard a lovely voice call out, “Excuse me?”

Aziraphale went to the voice and was instantly taken with the angel whose eyes twinkled like the stars that would soon come into existence. He had helped him create a galaxy. Aziraphale felt something that he would later learn was happiness. It was peaceful out here in the nebula, and he finally had company. Dare he say a friend? This red-haired angel was unlike any other angel Aziraphale had met. And he welcomed Aziraphale’s company. It was nice. When the first meteor shower started, the red-haired angel extended a wing over Aziraphale to protect him from the debris and Aziraphale moved a little closer to him, watching in awe the beauty they were surrounded by. It was nowhere near as beautiful as the joy on the star-maker’s face.

Their paths only crossed once and then the war broke out. Aziraphale heard the red-haired angel had been among the fallen, those who were sent to hell. It made the blond angel rather sad. To think of such a joyful soul in the squalor of hell, unable to see the stars he loved so much, was almost too painful to imagine.

When Aziraphale was promoted to principality, it seemed to be the perfect role for an angel as strange as he. While most angels were completely uninterested in Earth and her inhabitants, Aziraphale was excited to have a change of scenery. He was a little nervous about the possible dangers that might await him, but to be tasked with watching over God’s most beloved creations, humans, was truly a great honor.

When Aziraphale arrived in Eden, he felt an odd sensation. He would later learn it was love. Most angels could sense good and evil in various ways, but only Aziraphale seemed to be able to sense love. He liked it. There was something so pleasant and warm about it.

He took his duty very seriously but also found himself growing attached to the two human inhabitants in the garden. They were so flawed and yet so wonderful. Their attachment to each other was something that fascinated Aziraphale. He felt an instant bond to them, even though he watched them from afar, their unseen protector. The love that blossomed between them made the garden feel more welcoming to Aziraphale. He found he didn’t miss heaven at all and hoped to remain there for eternity.

But Eden would be the first time Aziraphale learned good things rarely lasted forever. After the temptation happened, Aziraphale stood on the wall watching his beloved humans brave the dangerous world outside the walls of the garden, his heart aching. He didn’t even have a chance to feel lonely. He was much too sad and shed tears for the humans, whom he had grown quite attached to. The garden seemed so empty now.

Yet he still sensed love in Eden. He chalked it up to its divine creation.

Then the serpent joined him, taking on its normal form of a demon.

It took Aziraphale a moment to recognize the former star maker. It had been many years since the creation of the nebula. His red hair was longer and perhaps a shade darker, his eyes were a beautiful gold color, and his wings were black. While most angels felt a natural revulsion towards demons, Aziraphale was too distracted by concern for the former inhabitants of the garden.

He and the demon, Crawley, conversed on the wall. Aziraphale felt comforted by the company, strange as he was. Heaven could be so lonely at times. When the storm clouds opened and rain started falling, Aziraphale didn’t even think twice before extending his wing to protect Crawley from the storm. The demon smiled, a genuine smile, and moved closer, taking shelter under the angel’s wing. Aziraphale wondered if he was lonely too.

They stood there for hours, even after the thunderstorm passed and the moon rose in the sky. Crawley looked up to the stars, smiling faintly. Aziraphale wondered if he often thought of the stars after falling.

_*_

Aziraphale tried to remain indifferent to suffering. After all, the most important rule for angels was to never interfere with humans. They could watch, they could occasionally guide, but they could never actively interfere. Yet as a Principality, he had a natural protectiveness towards what he was assigned to protect.

Earth was his jurisdiction, so naturally Aziraphale developed a protectiveness of the planet and all who dwelt within her. It made him even more of an outcast among angels. While he was too scared to admit it, Aziraphale started to feel more comfortable on Earth than he did in heaven. He chalked it up to how much time he spent there. Still, he found he genuinely liked humans.

There was only one other celestial being who seemed to share his affection for humans: the demon, Crawley.

Aziraphale found it peculiar. Demons were supposed to be creatures of pure evil, damned souls who existed only to thwart the will of the Almighty, to destroy all that was good. Yet the more he encountered Crawley, who later went by Crowley, the more Aziraphale realized that belief might not be true. While he certainly enjoyed causing mischief and mayhem on occasion, Crowley never did anything Aziraphale would term evil.

The demon was horrified at the great flood. He remained with Aziraphale in the aftermath. Neither said anything much, there was nothing to say, but Aziraphale was grateful for the company. When he shed tears for the lost, Crowley pretended not to notice, but moved a little closer. The angel couldn’t help but notice the demon looked sad at the enormous loss of life.

He helped Aziraphale protect Job and his family. The angel didn’t believe Crowley was capable of what he said he was there to do, though the demon put on a good enough show that the angel worried for half a second. But the jig was up once the angel found the unharmed goats. Crowley was quite annoyed that Aziraphale had seen through his front, but begrudgingly helped him. The angel was rather pleased at being right (he couldn’t resist gloating just a little bit, which he knew infuriated Crowley). Later as they watched over Job’s hidden children, Crowley introduced Aziraphale to the delicious foods found on Earth.

Aziraphale witnessed Crowley actively protect Job’s wife from the angels, when she would have blasphemed and likely incurred divine retribution. After seeing that, Aziraphale began to suspect Crowley cared about humans as much as he did.

It was the first time Aziraphale lied to his superiors, lied to God. By all rights, he should have been cast out and sent to hell. After the incident, he stood outside by himself, panicking, tears welling up in his eyes. Had he done the right thing? Was he prepared to accept the consequences of his actions? Would it hurt? Every angel knew about the horrors of hell, what an awful place it was. That was where Aziraphale was going, and he was scared. He was so scared.

And right when it felt like the fear would overwhelm him, he sensed that comforting feeling of love. It was faint at first, but grew stronger.

When he saw Crowley, Aziraphale felt some small measure of relief. At least the face of the one who would be bringing him to eternal torment was a pleasant and familiar one. That much was a mercy, perhaps the last he would ever be shown. Aziraphale told him he was ready to go, and Crowley was rather confused. Where were they going? To hell, obviously, Aziraphale answered. He hoped Crowley would stay with him for a little while. Perhaps help him acclimate to his new home.

“I’m not taking you to hell, angel,” Crowley replied.

“Why not?”

Crowley shrugged. “Because I don’t think you’d like it.”

They talked for a long while after that. For the first time, Aziraphale started to understand how useful shades of gray were.

Crowley didn’t bring him to hell. Rather he kept his secret. Not only that, he sat with Aziraphale until the angel no longer felt panicked, until he could breathe again. He never expected a demon would make him feel calm and even comforted. He was grateful for Crowley’s presence.

When God’s only son was crucified, Aziraphale wasn’t surprised when Crowley turned up. Truthfully, it was a relief to see the demon. How very odd that a demon’s presence would be comforting to an angel. Yet that was what Crowley was: a comforting presence. The demon stood so close to the angel that Aziraphale’s hand brushed their robes.

When the final nail was pounded into the man’s flesh, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand. It felt…nice. Surely it was improper, and certainly something that was frowned upon and the cause of a sternly worded memo, but the angel didn’t care. He needed to hold onto something safe, something familiar. To his shock, Crowley didn’t pull away. Rather, the demon held his hand gently, keeping their eyes forward as they watched the horrific event unfold. They were the last to leave the crucifixion site. Once again, the angel shed tears and the demon pretended not to notice. Crowley just continued holding Aziraphale’s hand.

When they met in Rome, Crowley was unusually tense. It was one of the rare times Aziraphale had seen him stressed. He was snappish when Aziraphale approached, which startled the angel at first. Seeing him in such a state bothered the Principality of the Eastern Gate. He wanted to…help was too strong a word, but perhaps provide a brief respite from whatever troubled the demon. After all, Crowley had done the same for him in the past.

Aziraphale invited him to lunch, insisting that he come after finding out Crowley had never had an oyster before. Crowley looked intrigued and even a little surprised. Even better, he actually smiled and it warmed Aziraphale’s heart. The demon agreed and the two went off to enjoy some oysters together. Afterwards, Aziraphale invited Crowley back to where he was staying. It was late and Crowley had nowhere to stay, nor did he have anywhere to be. They had enjoyed more wine and then Crowley fell asleep in Aziraphale’s modest bed. The angel placed a blanket over him, made sure he was comfortable, and then went back to reading a scroll he had recently acquired.

It was then Aziraphale started to understand how lonely Crowley was. Had anyone ever treated him gently or offered him a kind word? The angel doubted it. They had that in common.

How was it that he could sense love in Crowley? Was it from him or was it from the humans surrounding them?

It had to be the humans. Celestial beings did not love, especially not demons. Love was a human experience. Even cherubs knew that. But Aziraphale had to wonder.

Then he made what should have been a fatal error in Paris during the French Revolution. When Aziraphale was led to a cell, he could faintly feel love. He was being led to an empty section of the filthy jail. They had already executed most of the prisoners. Aziraphale sighed and looked at his shackles. He could easily miracle them off, but he was already in trouble for frivolous miracles. And he missed his friend. It had been a while since the angel had crossed paths with the demon. He told himself it was part of his duty, keeping tabs on Crowley, but truth be told, Aziraphale was bored.

As he’d been setting up his bookshop, Aziraphale started to sense a familiar feeling. Love. Crowley was somewhere nearby. When the angel crossed the channel, that feeling of love followed close behind. Crowley was following him, he knew it.

“Animals,” Aziraphale muttered to himself.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines,” a familiar voice came from behind him. Aziraphale couldn’t contain his joy at hearing his friend’s voice.

He spun around and there was the demon, lounging on the stones. They had a friendly back and forth as they always did. Aziraphale was overjoyed and once Crowley released him from his shackles, he immediately suggested they go out for crepes. To his delight, Crowley agreed (provided Aziraphale change into clothing that wouldn’t get him thrown back in the Bastille).

The crepes had been the best they had ever had. Crepes were always better with a friend.

_*_

The years continued and the love Aziraphale could feel from Crowley never dimmed. It drew the angel to the demon, formed the basis of their bond. Aziraphale sometimes wondered if Crowley was even aware of the love that was inherent to his being. He must be.

Aziraphale did not plan to fall in love. Angels were not supposed to do so. When he realized he was in love, the angel was terrified. He was terrified of what it meant, for both he and Crowley. He quickly decided it would be better if he just repressed whatever silly feelings he was experiencing. It could never be acted upon. Not ever.

Besides, Crowley likely didn’t return his feelings. Even if he did, he was smart enough to realize that it could never be. They were hereditary enemies. They could never be together.

But that didn’t mean Aziraphale couldn’t be devoted to Crowley. That he couldn’t protect him as he did all the other inhabitants of Earth. After all, that was part of his purpose. Aziraphale had always believed God’s most divine gift was love. The angel believed love was the most important part of the ineffable plan.

The angel and the demon spent years just pining, dancing around their feelings. But they never separated. They remained close to each other. After preventing the apocalypse, they practically lived together.

If that was the most they could have, Aziraphale decided he could be content with it. As long as he had Crowley in his life, things were alright. He told himself that was all he needed.

Then, he saw Beelzebub and Gabriel declare their love for each other, in front of both angels and demons. Aziraphale was filled with so much hope. He couldn’t resist reaching out and touching Crowley’s arm. He felt the way the demon shivered at his touch, could feel that sense of love suddenly become even more pronounced. That was when Aziraphale was certain that Crowley shared his feelings, that he wanted the same as the angel.

Perhaps…perhaps it was possible.

But Aziraphale was still scared. He recalled how Crowley had been taken from him in a Scottish graveyard. The angel hadn’t been able to keep him safe then, how could he hope to now? When Crowley collapsed in pain during Satan’s coming to claim Adam, Aziraphale vividly remembered how his heart stopped. It was then he realized his greatest fear was Crowley being ripped away from him.

The Metatron’s offer seemed like the answer to his quandary. Aziraphale was so relieved to finally have the answer, so overjoyed that he would finally be able to be with the one he loved, he didn’t even pause to consider how convenient the timing was. If he had, he might have hesitated. But he was so excited to tell Crowley. He would finally be out of Hell’s reach. They could finally be together. After so many years of longing, it was all about to change.

But everything had fallen apart.

The demon and angel had kissed. It was a gesture of desperation, a plea to stay. Crowley had declared his love and Aziraphale felt a strange conflict of emotions. He was elated to learn the demon returned his feelings, but crushed because Crowley was still refusing the Metatron’s generous offer. Didn’t he see this was the only way? It was the only way they could safely be together.

Aziraphale had clung to Crowley, unsure what was happening, but knowing he didn’t want it to end. When they pulled apart, Aziraphale wanted to pull Crowley back to him. He wanted to do that again, even as his heart was breaking in his chest.

They broke each other’s hearts. Perhaps it was inevitable. But Aziraphale felt as though something had gone wrong. He had said the wrong thing, had wounded his friend deeply.

There was a moment when the Metatron had re-entered the bookshop where a chill went down Aziraphale’s spine. He was so overwhelmed with emotions that he disregarded the sense of danger he felt from the Voice of God. He knew how dangerous the Angel was, but it seemed so unimportant in the wake of what had just happened. Aziraphale plastered a fake smile on his face and told the Metatron to lead the way, following him out into the sunny day.

When he saw Crowley standing next to the Bentley across the street, watching him, Aziraphale wanted to run to him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run into Crowley’s arms. But…they wouldn’t be apart forever. Aziraphale just had to fix a few things in Heaven and then he would come back. He and Crowley had fought before, and they had always patched things up. He would apologize and explain everything and then they could take things from there.

Eventually, Crowley would realize this was necessary and he would forgive Aziraphale. Wouldn’t he?

As he ascended to heaven, Aziraphale could no longer feel Crowley, as if their bond had been severed. That familiar feeling of love disappeared. It left the angel feeling empty and hollow.

There was no turning back though. Aziraphale had to protect the Earth. He had to protect Crowley. He knew what the angels were probably planning and knew he could make them see reason. Even if that failed, he could be a wrench in those plans. The angel knew he could save their home from destruction. He would have a better chance of success with Crowley, but if he had to do it alone, he would not be deterred.

The angel was going to save the world, no matter what he had to do or sacrifice.

Aziraphale made the same mistake he had made in the past: he underestimated the ruthlessness of his adversaries. It was a mistake Crowley never would have made.

When he was sentenced to death, Aziraphale calmly accepted his fate. Though he tried one last time to feel the love that was part of Crowley. As the first stroke fell, the angel whispered his friend’s name, both a comfort and a prayer. If he was to die, his last thoughts were going to be of the one he loved.

What he did not know was that on Earth, when the first stroke fell upon the angel’s wing, the demon Crowley fell to his knees in pain, letting out a cry. He gingerly touched his wing, where the phantom pain had originated. Looking around with wide eyes, he rose to his feet again, whispering his friend’s name.

He tried to convince himself that the angel was fine, probably plotting with the other Archangels. Crowley told himself he didn’t care. Aziraphale had made his choice.

And yet, that phantom pain nagged at him. Something was wrong. Grabbing the keys to the Bentley, Crowley left the flat he was staying in, deciding to return to London for the first time in months. It was just for the espresso, he told himself. Espresso, and absolutely nothing else.

Chapter Text

Chapter One: The Rainstorm

One drop of cold water hit his face, then another, then another. Aziraphale groaned softly as he slowly came back to consciousness. He was lying on his side on a cold hard unforgiving surface, stone of some sort. Odd. There was no stone or rock in Heaven. Everything was cold and sterile, pristine tile. Heaven had no smell either.

But right now, he could smell…rain.

He allowed his eyes to slowly open and immediately let out a cry. Pain, he was overwhelmed with pain. Tears streamed from his eyes. It was dark, evening time. He was alone, could barely move or breathe.

The angel was dying.

He was scared and there was only one thought in his mind, a name: Crowley.

Aziraphale shivered and clenched his fists, carefully rolling onto his stomach, climbing painfully to his hands and knees. It was agonizing and made him lightheaded, spots bursting in his vision. Aziraphale could taste blood in his mouth and looked around.

He felt a small measure of relief when he saw his bookshop. If he had to die, at least he could die where he had always been happy. Where he had always been safe. Where he spent so many hours in the company of the demon who he loved.

He was home.

In the distance, he heard the faint sound of marching. Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder. The legions, they were here. He looked to the ground, noticing the pool of blood. His blood. Carefully, Aziraphale touched the back of his shoulder, grunting in pain. Where once there had been a beautiful wing, now there was just a gaping wound. The angel panted for breath, looking back to the bookshop. Behind him, he could hear the frightening rhythmic marching of the legions, getting closer.

If they found him, they would finish what the Metatron had started.

Somehow, Aziraphale rose to his feet, his legs shaking dangerously. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand or walk for long, so he stumbled towards the door of the bookshop. The heat of the blood down his back was a reminder that he didn’t have much time. With each stumbling step, he feared he would fall.

For the angel knew once he fell, he would be unable to rise again.

One foot in front of the other, closer. He reached out and his hand touched the familiar cool glass. Swallowing, he gripped the door and prayed.

It was open.

Aziraphale collapsed the minute he was inside, tears spilling down his face. The angel was finally home. He had missed this place so much. His heart ached when he realized his books were gone, probably sold to new homes long ago.

“Crowley?” he called, as loud as he dared. He looked around hopefully, even though he didn’t sense the feeling of love that was part of Crowley. Maybe he was too weak to sense it. Perhaps Crowley was here. Aziraphale longed to feel his friend one last time. He would give anything to hold Crowley’s hand, to feel his warmth.

The bookshop was empty and dark. Aziraphale was alone. He felt more alone than he ever had. Hearing the marching legions pass by, the angel dragged himself over to a corner and curled up in the shadows. If he was going to die, he preferred to be in his bookshop, where he felt safe.

Yet…it wasn’t as warm as it was when Crowley was with him. Tears streamed down his face as Aziraphale realized he would never see his friend again, would never feel that sense of love. He could only hope that he had done enough to protect him from Heaven and Hell’s wrath. Neither would be able to find the demon, not without a great amount of difficulty.

Crowley was so clever. He probably already went to Alpha Centauri. Aziraphale smiled, even as tears continued spilling down his face. He briefly closed his eyes, imagining Crowley safe among the stars he loved so much. He imagined his friend smiling and happy.

“Oh Crowley,” he murmured to himself. “Please, be happy. Eventually I hope you can remember me fondly. Knowing you was the best part of my life.”

He looked blearily up to the window above him, watching as the sky lit up briefly with lightning. A storm was fast approaching.

“Ma’am, if you can hear me,” he prayed, pausing as the pain briefly overwhelmed him again.

“I have served Heaven loyally since the beginning of…of everything. I have never asked for anything. I have one request, at the end of my existence. Please, make sure Crowley is happy. Make sure he is loved. I just want him to be happy. He deserves to be.”

Darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision and Aziraphale gave into it. He didn’t know where he would go, what awaited him, but his last conscious thought was of the redhaired demon. How beautiful his smile was, his snark, his golden eyes, his wiry body. The love that emanated from him.

Aziraphale was standing outside of the bookshop, next to the Bentley. Crowley was crouched down, examining a trail of blood on the ground. The angel couldn’t resist reaching out and touching the demon’s shoulder. Crowley looked up, his eyes turning to the bookshop.

“Aziraphale?” he murmured.

“I’m here,” Aziraphale thought. “I’m here.”

“Muriel?”

Aziraphale recognized that voice…and the sense of love that surrounded him. The shop suddenly became brighter.

“You in here? You alright? Couldn’t help but notice the concerning amount of blood outside.”

Crowley was so good at sounding nonchalant, even when he was concerned. Part of the angel wanted him to flee. If the legions caught him, he would be discorporated. They would slaughter him and snuff out the sense of love. Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.

The other more selfish part of him wanted Crowley to find him. He wanted to feel his hands one more time, smell his scent, feel his lips upon his. Aziraphale wanted one last moment with the demon he had come to love. One last memory to bring with him to whatever afterlife he was bound for.

Hearing marching in the distance, Aziraphale tried to call a warning to Crowley, but only managed to wheeze. Lord, when did breathing become so difficult? He heard Crowley’s easy stride move around and suddenly stop.

“Oh god,” he could barely hear his friend’s horrified whisper. “No, no, no, no.”

Aziraphale could feel his hold on consciousness slipping again. Goodbye, my love, he thought.

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!?”

The demon’s strong hands clasped his shoulders, shaking him, causing every inch of his body to light up in agony. Even though it hurt, it also felt wonderful. Aziraphale hadn’t been touched since he left for heaven. Despite the pain, the angel felt the familiar sense of love, its warmth. Crowley, he thought, too weak to even whimper in pain. Aziraphale struggled to open his eyes, wishing to gaze upon his beloved friend one last time.

It took most of his dwindling strength, but Aziraphale managed to open his eyes. He saw Crowley’s beautiful golden eyes and he smiled shakily. The love he still felt from Crowley was comforting and helped take the edge off the pain.

“Crowley,” he murmured, trying to express all he felt for the demon. He swallowed, grimacing, his eyes slipping shut again. “I had hoped to see you one more time.”

I wish we had more time.

Crowley was shouting, obviously frantic. He threw himself over the angel to protect him from some falling debris. Aziraphale turned his head slightly, relishing the smell of the demon, the faint smell of rainwater and plants, the leather from the Bentley. Crowley’s scent, though faint, was so soothing, so familiar. It brought tears to Aziraphale’s eyes. He had missed it.

He forced his eyes open again. Crowley deserved an apology. At the very least, he deserved that. Aziraphale tried to offer one, but the demon was too distracted by whatever was happening in the shop. He did love rescuing Aziraphale.

You can’t save me this time, Crowley. I’m so sorry, my love. I can’t go with you. Please, save yourself. Live for us both.

Aziraphale started drifting again, but was brought back to consciousness when Crowley began tugging on his arm. He let out a cry of pain and the demon jerked back, startled. Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley to know what had happened, how badly he had been wounded. He wanted to spare the demon the gruesome sight.

“My books. They sold them all.”

“No, they didn’t! I have them!”

Aziraphale looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. Crowley had saved his books. He had kept something that was so important to Aziraphale, even though he didn’t know if he would ever see him again. The angel was starting to realize the things he enjoyed, the things other angels mocked him for, Crowley had always either encouraged or at least supported. Sometimes in very strange ways, but he had done so nonetheless. Aziraphale thought back to the blitz when Crowley had used a miracle to save his beloved books.

Crowley continued frantically urging him to get up, still not realizing Aziraphale couldn’t.

“I can’t,” Aziraphale whimpered, hoping Crowley would give up. He knew he wouldn’t. He had known the demon long enough to know how stubborn Crowley was.

“Yes, you can! Just stand up and move,” Crowley argued, reaching for him again. “Aziraphale, come on! We have to get out of here!”

“I’ve fallen, Crowley,” Aziraphale cried, begging the demon to understand. “I’ve been cast out from Heaven.”

Crowley stared at him, squinting. Something caught his eye and he looked at Aziraphale, kneeling in front of him again. Aziraphale coughed and it made pain race through his failing body. Crowley reached out, his yellow eyes reflecting concern. He gently took ahold of Aziraphale and leaned him forward.

“No,” Aziraphale whimpered, not wanting this to be the last memory Crowley had of him, his mutilated back.

“It’s alright, angel,” Crowley soothed. “Just need to see how…”

Crowley’s words trailed off. Aziraphale turned toward Crowley’s neck, burying his face in the demon’s warmth. Why did it have to end like this? He felt the back of his shirt lift slightly and tears continued flooding down his face. Yet despite the pain and the sadness, Aziraphale felt…safe. He was in more danger than he had perhaps ever been in, but still he felt safe. Please, don’t go, a very small part of him thought.

After a moment, Crowley leaned Aziraphale back. The angel met his gaze again and saw fire in the demon’s gaze. There was a rage in Crowley’s eyes that Aziraphale had never seen before, and it worried the angel. The demon put a gentle hand on the angel’s cheek and Aziraphale turned his face toward his touch. It felt so nice, so kind. For a moment, it felt like everything was normal again.

“Who did this to you?” Crowley growled, unable to hide the fury in his words. The way he said it, he already knew the answer. He just wanted confirmation.

Aziraphale swallowed. There was so much he wanted to say to the demon, his soulmate. His love.

He didn’t want these last few precious moments they had together to be wasted on anger and rage.

“I would have liked to have danced,” he mumbled. “One last time.”

The response seemed to take Crowley off guard. He suddenly looked up and Aziraphale could hear something crack. He could feel the heat from the flames, taste the smoke in the air. There was a faint tremor he felt through the ground. Crowley looked back to him and Aziraphale could just make out the sweat on his brow.

Goodbye, my love.

Suddenly, Crowley switched his position and pulled Aziraphale’s arm across his shoulders, dragging the angel to his feet. Aziraphale gasped in pain, slumping forward, and Crowley muttered an apology. He carried Aziraphale out of the bookshop, since the angel could not move or stand on his own. Despite the agony he was in, Aziraphale smiled when he saw the Bentley. How he had missed that beautiful car. As if hearing his thoughts, the back door opened.

“You’re going to get blood all over my car,” Crowley grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale murmured. I’m sorry for everything, Crowley. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know how much I truly do love you.

“I didn’t…oh never mind,” Crowley muttered, frustrated. Suddenly he froze and went rigid. He had seen something. Aziraphale looked up, feeling very lightheaded, as he tried to see what had elicited such a reaction. The demon’s eyes were narrow as he glared at something across the street.

The angel followed his gaze and felt his heart stop when he spotted the Voice of God sitting outside the café, reading a newspaper. He sipped from his coffee, seemingly unaware of the two of them. Aziraphale felt a wave of panic wash over him, his entire body starting to tremble.

It was so obviously a trap.

Something changed in Crowley’s breathing and Aziraphale, though already starting to feel feverish, could feel the demon’s temperature rise slightly.

He was going to get himself killed if he tried to fight the Metatron.

No! Aziraphale would not allow that to happen.

Forcing himself to think fast, Aziraphale rested his brow against Crowley’s neck.

“Crowley,” he whimpered as he started shivering. “I’m so cold.”

Crowley looked at him, his expression softening. Aziraphale’s vision was starting to blur, but he held onto consciousness with what little strength he had left. He placed his free hand on Crowley’s chest, looking into his eyes.

“Please, take me away from here,” he begged. Don’t waste what time we have left together, please.

Crowley swallowed, briefly glancing across the street again. He looked back to Aziraphale and nodded, helping the angel into the Bentley. Aziraphale lay in the backseat, gasping in pain.

“Seatbelt,” the wounded angel managed to say between gritted teeth.

“You don’t need one!”

“Crowley, please?”

The demon let out a growl of frustration and fumbled with the seatbelt. It was awkward with Aziraphale laying down, but Crowley managed to fasten it.

“Satisfied?” he grumbled. Aziraphale nodded, coughing quietly.

Crowley straightened up and closed the door. Aziraphale let out a breath of relief when Crowley got into the driver’s side and started the car.

“Seatbelt,” Aziraphale reminded him. Crowley mumbled something very colorful under his breath, but fastened his seatbelt.

“Nothing to see here. Just an ordinary human out for a night drive, enjoying all the…fire and brimstone,” Crowley mumbled to himself as he shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb.

Within his mind, Aziraphale silently said goodbye to the bookshop that had been his home for so many years. Part of him was sad, for he knew he would never see it again.

The sound of an explosion, followed by the car violently shaking, made Aziraphale cringe and whimper in pain.

“Aziraphale?”

“I’m alright,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley kept looking out the windshield, driving cautiously. Aziraphale sighed, holding his arms close to himself.

“It’s so cold,” he said, shivering. The demon reached forward and turned one of the knobs.

“I’m turning the heat up as high as it will go. I can’t miracle a blanket right now,” Crowley told him. “There are too many angels marching about, causing a ruckus. If they sense a demonic miracle, they’ll swarm us. Just…hang on for a bit. I’ll miracle one once we’re out of city limits.”

“I could—”

“No, don’t you dare. You rest,” Crowley snapped. The amber light of a nearby flame illuminated the inside of the Bentley briefly. Crowley cringed and hissed. Something shook the very ground beneath them and Aziraphale swallowed nervously. There was a loud clattering sound as some debris hit the car.

“You’re my car. You’re my car and you’re going to keep us safe, do you hear me?” Crowley growled at the Bentley. He spun the steering wheel, turning down another street.

“Crowley?”

“Shh, not yet angel. Save it until we’re out of the city,” Crowley replied, his focus on the road. He slowed to a stop and Aziraphale could sense the angelic troop right outside the car. He pressed himself back further against the backseat, trembling. They were in more danger than they had ever been. Why had the demon returned to London? If he was caught by the angels, they would discorporate him.

Crowley eventually pressed on the accelerator and the car started smoothly moving forward again. He’s following the speed limit. We are most certainly in more peril than I realize, Aziraphale thought, swallowing.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he murmured apologetically. “I should have known it was a fool’s errand. I was trying to…I thought I could…it doesn’t matter. I failed. It’s my fault this is happening.”

Aziraphale knew he didn’t have long to live. A few days at most. Crowley deserved an apology, and he deserved the truth. If only the angel’s muddled mind would cooperate. As if hearing his thoughts, the stabbing pain from his wounds started to grow.

Crowley scoffed. “Quite the ego you’ve grown in the months you’ve been up there. Sounding like a regular Archangel, Aziraphale.”

The wounded angel winced at the sharpness of the demon’s tone. He deserved that. What he had said to Crowley had been cruel. It would have been well within his rights for Crowley to just leave Aziraphale where he had found him.

But he hadn’t.

Crowley had taken him out of the bookshop and was now risking his life to bring him out of the city. To where, Aziraphale had no clue. But he trusted Crowley, as he always had.

“I should have stayed with you,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley switched on the car radio, the tunes of Queen soon filling the interior of the car. Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes.

Before he fell asleep, he felt the Bentley jolt as it picked up speed and left London in the rearview mirror.

**

“Well, that could have gone better,” Aziraphale thought as he knelt, shackled and gagged. He was in heaven awaiting judgement for his disobedience. It would be swift and brutal, likely fatal. The angel had noticed fellow angels going missing in disturbing numbers recently. He swallowed, steeling his nerves. It wouldn’t be long now.

His thoughts turned back to his friend on Earth, a demon who had become his best friend, who had helped him fall in love with Earth and who had helped him save it. A demon who had fallen in love with him and whom Aziraphale had fallen in love with. “We wasted so much time,” he thought mournfully. Closing his eyes, he replayed the memories he shared with Crowley, all the laughs and the food. The sights. The kiss.

A single tear crawled down Aziraphale’s cheek when he realized he would probably never see his friend again. Would Crowley forget about him? Did he hate him? The angel was sure the demon hated him and would until the end of time. Knowing he had hurt Crowley hurt his heart. Wherever he was, Aziraphale hoped Crowley was happy and safe.

The sound of the door opening behind him brought Aziraphale back to the present. The click of the Metatron’s shoes drew closer and soon, the short older man stood before him. He looked down upon Aziraphale with disinterest, holding a sword in front of him. Aziraphale kept his head up. He could not speak, but he glared at the man.

“Archangel Aziraphale, you have been charged with treason against Heaven. How do you plead?”

Aziraphale squinted at him and gestured to the gag. The Metatron looked annoyed as he gestured to one of the angels to remove it.

“How do you plead?”

“I committed no treason. I will defend humanity, as I always have, as the almighty intended for me to do. Humans are flawed, but they are innocent and capable of great—”

“And I’m sure your fondness for them has nothing to do with your fondness for the demon Crowley?”

Aziraphale stared at him, pressing his lips together. The Metatron continued to look down on him with cold indifference.

“The stench of evil is still upon you, Archangel Aziraphale. Even a fool could see he still occupies your mind and heart,” the Metatron stated. “Do you deny it?”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale replied without hesitation. “I…I love Crowley.”

A small thrill of fear traveled through the angel. He knew he had just signed his own death warrant, but Aziraphale was done hiding. Crowley had been right: they needed to rid themselves of Heaven and Hell.

“If you condemn love, then you are no longer speaking in God’s voice or for her,” Aziraphale continued. “She would never punish love. It is the best force there is. It is what makes life worth living and what inspires some of the greatest acts. I’m blessed to have found that with Crowley. If you have never experienced it, then I pity you.”

Michael and Uriel, who were standing off to the side, looked stunned and dropped their eyes. None of the Archangels could meet his gaze. They all knew what was happening was wrong. But none of them would dare to step out of line.

“Archangel Aziraphale has admitted to treason and consorting with the forces of Hell. The sentence for both is death,” the Metatron’s booming voice echoed throughout the empty sterile halls. Aziraphale closed his eyes, praying. He prayed it would be quick and he prayed that Crowley never found out. Heavens, the demon would be insufferable if he ever found out how right he had been. And he prayed that Crowley would observe speed limits for once in his life. He really did go too fast.

“Extend his wings,” the Metatron commanded.

Panic consumed the angel at the thought of his wings being taken and for a minute, Aziraphale thought he would be sick. It was an agonizing, drawn out death, one that hadn’t been used in millennia. He would suffer and he would be alone.

It took four Archangels to hold him in place and extend his wings. Aziraphale trembled, swallowing as he tried to get his panic under control.

“I forgive you,” he said to the angels before the gag was replaced over his mouth. Tears started to spill over his eyes. He was scared.

A warm hand slid into his and Aziraphale looked up into Crowley’s face. The demon’s yellow eyes were concerned and sad. Crowley reached out and gently put his other hand on the side of Aziraphale’s face. A wave of calm washed over the angel as the demon rested his brow against Aziraphale’s.

“You’re not really here,” Aziraphale whispered. The illusion of Crowley shook his head.

“Nah. If I were, I would burn these self-righteous bastards into ashes,” Crowley replied with a wicked grin. Aziraphale couldn’t help but let out a laughing sob at that.

“Angel, I need you to get back to the bookshop once they’re done. It’s going to seem impossible, and it’s going to hurt like hell, but I know you can do it,” Crowley said. “Get to the bookshop and I’ll find you. I promise.”

Aziraphale swallowed, closing his eyes. The bookshop, his bookshop, how he missed it.

When the first stroke fell, Aziraphale couldn’t prevent the cry of pain that escaped him, muffled by the gag. He kept his eyes clenched shut, tears streamed down his face, but he could still feel

Crowley’s hand within his.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Away from the Flames

Aziraphale drifted in and out of consciousness as Crowley drove to wherever he was heading. This hadn’t been what he expected to happen, but Aziraphale was too weak to think much more than that. Once they left the city, the road was significantly smoother. The shadows of the night draped the inside of the Bentley, which was now traveling at its usual terrifyingly high speed.

“Still with me, angel?” Crowley called from the front. He sounded so at ease, so nonchalant. Anyone else would marvel at how unfazed he was by the harrowing events of the evening. But Aziraphale had known Crowley longer than anyone. He could hear the anxiousness the demon kept well hidden, even over his music.

“Mmhm,” Aziraphale managed to respond, barely awake. Even though he was scared, it wasn’t overwhelming. The sense of love that was so unique to Crowley was comforting. It felt like home. He didn’t even think about how fast Crowley was going.

He looked around when Crowley brought the car to a stop. It was…unusually quiet. He could just make out a bright light outside the windshield.

“Where—?”

“Just some boring little village, too small for the legions to bother with. For the moment at least,” Crowley replied as he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He easily slid them over his eyes.

“Back in a minute, just going to pop into the shop, get us a few things. You stay here and rest,” Crowley told him. “Is there anything you want? Something to nibble on, perhaps?”

“Where will I go?” Aziraphale asked, more speaking to himself. He shivered when pain knifed through him again, sucking in his breath. He looked up at the interior of the Bentley, swallowing.

“One crisis at a time, Aziraphale. We’ll find somewhere to lay low and—”

“I meant when I die.”

Crowley was silent, but Aziraphale heard him shift in his seat. The angel swallowed, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. He was scared and he didn’t want Crowley to leave. The sense of love he had grown so used to was comforting and warm.

“If I’m not welcomed in Heaven, will I go to Hell?” Aziraphale continued.

“No,” Crowley responded sharply. “You’re not going to die, Aziraphale. Quit being so bloody dramatic. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll bring you some shortbread or some—”

“I’m cold. I’ve never properly felt cold before.”

Crowley yanked off his sunglasses with a growl, clambered into the backseat with unusual awkwardness, and hunched over Aziraphale. The demon took the angel’s face in his hands, forcing Aziraphale to look at him, fury blazing in his gold eyes, even as they welled up. It grounded the wounded angel, who stared at his friend, feeling tears creeping up into his eyes. Seeing Crowley in pain, Aziraphale couldn’t resist reaching up and gently holding his wrist. Don’t be sad, Crowley. Please don’t cry. Outside, the sky lit up briefly with lightning.

“You’re not going to die, do you hear me?” Crowley snarled from behind grit teeth. “You don’t get to leave again, you can’t do this to me again, angel. If you do, I will never forgive you. Do you hear me?”

Aziraphale felt tears start creeping down his cheeks as he recalled their parting, the words they had said to each other. Words they couldn’t take back. He had left Crowley. In Crowley’s mind, Aziraphale had chosen Heaven over him. Why hadn’t he explained things better? Why hadn’t he tried?

Why couldn’t he do so now?

“I…I don’t want to leave you,” Aziraphale insisted tearfully. Please. Please believe me, Crowley. I never wanted to leave you. But it was the only way to keep Earth safe, to keep you safe. I wanted you to come with me, but you said no. I had no other choice but to leave on my own.

Crowley’s expression softened ever so slightly. How Aziraphale had missed those beautiful eyes while he had been away.

“Then don’t,” Crowley replied, his tone softer.

He was still determined to save Aziraphale. It was too late, any effort was going to be futile, but he was willing to humor the demon. If this was what Crowley needed to do, then Aziraphale would let him. The angel nodded, grimacing in pain and shivering. His teeth were chattering.

Crowley dropped his hands from the angel’s face, gently pulling his wrist out of Aziraphale’s weak grasp, and quickly stripped off his jacket, laying it over Aziraphale. Almost instantly, the chill became slightly easier to endure.

“No, I’ll get blood on it. I don’t want to ruin your lovely jacket,” Aziraphale protested weakly.

“Shh, it’s fine, angel. If blood gets on it, I’ll just miracle it out,” Crowley replied. “I prefer you warm up a bit while I’m in the market.”

They both looked toward the window when there was a quiet rumble of thunder in the distance. Crowley looked back to his wounded friend.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“You always did love rescuing me,” Aziraphale said affectionately. The demon rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t even start with that,” Crowley grumbled as he opened the door, exiting the car. Aziraphale winced when he shut the door with more force than perhaps was necessary.

The angel tried to ignore the unnatural chill that had started to overtake him. The pain was truly exquisite. No matter what he did, it seemed to cause even more pain. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. He hugged the jacket Crowley had draped over him closer, closing his eyes. The warmth from it was combating the chill. The faint smell of leather and plants was a comforting scent. Aziraphale sighed. He was so tired.

The soft sound of rushing air drew his attention to the front of the Bentley, where the heat had turned on by itself. The angel smiled as he felt the sense of love in the car, which was protecting him while Crowley was in the shop. He could feel the spirit of the car, which was worried about its unexpected though much loved passenger. Next to him, a small compartment popped open and Aziraphale looked to where there would normally be an ashtray. Instead, there was a tiny tray with hard candies he was partial to.

“I’m afraid I’m not hungry, but thank you,” he spoke gently. “That’s very kind.”

The tray closed again, and the seats softened ever so slightly, making the angel even more comfortable. Aziraphale closed his eyes again, swallowing as he tried to manage the pain he was in.

“You will look after him, won’t you? Once I’m gone,” Aziraphale spoke softly to the car. The Bentley rocked back and forth once, as though protesting the angel’s question. Aziraphale smiled as he stroked the seat with one finger, the most he could manage. He had grown very fond of the Bentley over the years.

“It’s all right. I knew the consequences of my actions, and I accepted them. I did what was right, my conscience is clear,” Aziraphale reassured the car. “I destroyed all the files Heaven had on Crowley. Provided he lays low, they won’t be able to find him, not without significant difficulty.”

Aziraphale paused and swallowed, gritting his teeth against the pain. He brought Crowley’s jacket to his nose, inhaling the scent, which had brought him so much comfort throughout the years. Even now, it was keeping out most of the chill.

“I worry about leaving him alone,” he admitted. “I know he will grieve and will want to cut himself off from the world. I think…I think he is scared of being hurt and I worry that I made that worse when I left.”

Aziraphale’s voice wobbled, and he felt tears streaming down his face. “I don’t want him to be lonely or sad. I want Crowley to be happy. I want him to smile and laugh and love. I want him to be safe. I want him to be Crowley. Promise me you will look after him. Please. Promise me you will make sure he’s okay.”

The car let out a quiet honk and the lights inside flashed once. Aziraphale smiled sadly.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “You really are a magnificent car. I have been blessed to know you.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep again.

**

Aziraphale realized he was in love in the ruins of a church, after protecting himself and Crowley from a shell during the Blitz. When Crowley had rescued him from some Nazi agents, who the angel had been attempting to double cross. That plan had gone down like a lead balloon, as Crowley would have said.

The angel had been mourning the books that had undoubtedly been incinerated when Crowley stepped up beside him, holding out the miraculously unharmed satchel.

“Little demonic miracle of my own,” he’d said in his usual easy manner. They hadn’t seen each other for years and yet Crowley spoke as though they had never stopped speaking.

Whatever else he had said, Aziraphale hadn’t heard. He just gazed at the demon in amazement, a new feeling stirring within his breast. A fluttering of his heart. “I love him.”

As they drove through the flaming streets of London in the Bentley, Aziraphale only had eyes for Crowley. He suddenly realized how very much he had missed Crowley over the years, the feeling of love that surrounded him. He couldn’t stop smiling, happier than he had been in some time.

It had been a rather eventful evening that required Aziraphale to make use of his magic skills multiple times. He’d found it delightful for the most part.

Crowley had found it…less so. Especially after their miracles were blocked. Aziraphale was still determined to perform the bullet catch, but Crowley was nervous. The angel saw the way his hands shook, but he trusted his friend. He knew Crowley could do this.

And he was right.

The show had been a success and Aziraphale even managed to trick the demons who were threatening Crowley. He had easily palmed the evidence they gathered without their realizing. Not even Crowley noticed.

Once the demons left, Aziraphale insisted Crowley come back to the bookshop for dinner. Crowley smiled at him, the expression had a hint of sadness. Aziraphale almost revealed the surprise to him right then and there. He hated seeing his friend despair.

When they entered the shop, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice Crowley was walking a little stiffly, almost limping.

Crowley brightened up significantly when Aziraphale revealed the photo to him. The angel poured him more wine and they shared a toast.

“I couldn’t help but notice your gait is noticeably less graceful than usual,” Aziraphale mentioned as he started gathering the plates and cutlery they had used for dinner.

“Don’t worry about it, angel,” Crowley replied. “I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“Crowley, you walked on consecrated ground,” Aziraphale said gently. “Wait here.”

The angel went into the back room of the shop where he retrieved a water basin, which he filled in the sink. He stepped back out into the main part of the shop, where Crowley was still sitting, sipping his wine. Aziraphale didn’t think he had ever seen the demon remain still for so long.

“Finally decided to bring me holy water I see,” Crowley said with a devilish grin. The angel put the basin at his feet.

“Don’t be morbid,” Aziraphale chided, moving the table to give them more room. “If you would be so kind to take off your shoes and socks.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, as he leaned down and undid the laces on his shoes. Aziraphale just smiled at him as he stepped out of the room again, retrieving a few more items. When he reemerged, Crowley had taken his shoes and socks off, and was leaning back in the chair.

Aziraphale knelt across from him, rolling up his sleeves. “Let me see your feet.”

“Don’t think heavenly miracles work on demons,” Crowley mentioned, even as he placed his feet in the water. He winced a little, hissing in pain. Aziraphale gently took ahold of the demon’s ankle and lifted it so he could look at foot.

The demon’s soles were covered in painful looking blisters. The angel could only imagine how much discomfort Crowley was experiencing. Aziraphale grabbed a soft sponge and dipped it in the water.

“Angel?”

“Sit still, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied. “I promise you this won’t hurt. I’m just going to clean and dress your feet.”

Crowley tilted his head a little, but didn’t protest. Aziraphale smiled as he focused on the task. He washed his friend’s wounded and aching feet, taking his time. It was a wonderfully peaceful moment after such a chaotic evening.

For over an hour, Aziraphale gently and patiently cleaned Crowley’s feet, subtly miracling away the worst of the blisters. After he finished, he toweled the demon’s feet dry and then carefully dressed them.

“There we are, all done,” Aziraphale said as he sat back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Crowley cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No. Not at all.”

He downed half a glass of wine in one gulp.

“Better?” Aziraphale asked.

“Much,” Crowley replied, looking around. “See you around, angel.”

“You’re leaving?” Aziraphale felt a pang of anxiousness. “It’s still…Crowley, please. Stay here, just for tonight. There’s plenty of room.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

He was cut off by the sound of an explosion nearby. The demon gritted his teeth.

“Fine, I’ll stay on the lounge tonight. Just until the damn Germans stop bombing everything in sight,” Crowley grumbled. “Bastards.”

Aziraphale smiled and went upstairs, retrieving spare bedding. By the time he returned downstairs, Crowley was stretched out on the lounge with his hat over his face. The angel draped the blanket over the demon. He placed the pillow on a chair that he brought within reach of the lounge.

“Sleep well, my friend,” Aziraphale whispered, smiling warmly at the demon. He set about finishing cleaning up. The chaos outside went unnoticed by the two in the bookshop.

**

Aziraphale woke up when Crowley opened the back door of the car, sliding in beside him and putting a bunch of bags on the ground. The demon took off his sunglasses and put them in the front seat of the car.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured groggily.

“Yeah?” the demon replied, not looking up from the bags.

“I was…I was dreaming of that night in the bookshop in the 40s,” Aziraphale told him, wincing and putting a hand to his aching head. “That was a good night.”

Crowley’s hands paused and he swallowed, still not looking at the angel. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

He cleared his throat and put two of the bags in the front seat. The angel noticed his hair was damp and glanced at the windows, noticing the rain pattering down the glass. Aziraphale smiled faintly as he looked back at the demon.

“You always come back,” he murmured gratefully. He frowned when he noticed tears in Crowley’s eyes. The demon remained focused on the bags, pulling out a package.

“I told you I would,” Crowley replied, taking his coat off the angel. “I need to bandage your wounds. Take your shirt off.”

Aziraphale wanted to ask what was troubling him, but sensed Crowley was still upset over their parting. He didn’t know how to apologize to the demon, if he even could. Crowley was watching him expectantly, with those beautiful gold eyes.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley,” the angel attempted to tease him. Crowley gave him a half smile and a huff of laughter. Aziraphale swallowed as he started undoing the buttons. Every movement caused him even more pain.

“I fear this shirt is ruined,” he said sadly. He grimaced and hissed in pain when he started to pull the shirt off.

Almost instantly, Crowley gently guided his arms out of the sleeves, helping Aziraphale remove his shirt, apologizing when the fabric stuck to the coagulating blood. He placed the shirt off to the side.

“I’ll miracle out the blood once I finish,” Crowley mumbled as he guided Aziraphale to turn around so he could better see his back. The demon snapped his fingers and the light inside the Bentley switched on. He looked at the angel’s back, hissing in sympathy, and grabbed a box of bandages, tearing it open. Aziraphale felt lightheaded and tears welled up in his eyes.

“This might hurt a bit,” the demon warned as he placed gauze against one of the wounds. Aziraphale let out a cry of pain, his fingers digging into the Bentley’s seat. He started shivering again. He had never experienced such intense pain before. He was barely aware of Crowley swiftly taping the gauze in place.

“Shit, what did that bastard do to you?” Crowley asked, startled. “Just one more to go. I’ll try to be more careful.”

It hurt just as much, but Aziraphale bit down on his lip, forcing himself not to make a sound. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched the Bentley’s leather seats.

“You gave my number to Gabriel?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale frowned, glancing over his shoulder.

“Oh, yes, I requested Muriel do so. I should have told you, but I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me after…” Aziraphale trailed off, knowing he was treading on a sensitive topic. “Um, did he call you?”

“While I was in the market,” Crowley replied, sniffling. “It was a stroke of luck. I had a question for Beelzebub.”

“About?”

Crowley hesitated, grabbing another box of gauze and tearing it open. “Treating damaged wings. It has been a while.”

“Oh.”

The angel looked out the window at the storm as Crowley wound the gauze around his torso, gently bandaging the wounds on his back. The demon’s hands were incredibly adept and Aziraphale wondered when he had learned this skill.

Crowley tugged at the bandages, checking to make sure they were secure. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wince in pain. The demon muttered an apology. He reached for the angel’s shirt and miracled out the blood. There was a great amount, so it took Crowley a few more minutes than it typically did. Aziraphale watched as he removed every trace until the shirt looked new. A single tear crawled down the demon’s face.

“Crowley?”

Crowley looked up from the now immaculate shirt, which he handed to Aziraphale. He glanced out the window, watching the droplets of rain on the glass. He turned back to the angel and helped him put his shirt back on.

“I’m bringing you somewhere safe. Beelzebub and Gabriel have a place they’re not using anymore. It’s remote, far from where the legions are targeting. We’ll be safe there for a while. It will be a few hours yet, so try to get some rest,” Crowley told him. Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask a question, but he could feel his hold on consciousness slipping. He nodded and laid down. Crowley draped his jacket over him again, much to the angel’s relief.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Crowley said with his normal confidence as he refastened the seatbelt. “Then we’ll fix you right up and you can do the apology dance every day for the next hundred years. Sound good? I got some good snacks, even found enough ingredients to make some of your favorite meals. Would you like crepes tomorrow? Or maybe sushi? There wasn’t any decent looking fish, unfortunately, but there was still produce, lots of vegetables. We’ll make do.”

Aziraphale looked at him mournfully, swallowing. Oh, how he loved Crowley. Leaving him had been the most difficult thing the angel had ever done. At least he had managed to do some good while he was in heaven. Nowhere near enough, but some.

“I’m sorry I never went with you to Alpha Centauri,” he apologized, feeling warmth in his own eyes. “I would have liked to have seen it.”

“Aziraphale, don’t,” Crowley pleaded, his voice hoarse and shaking, unable to meet the angel’s eyes. “Please…don’t.”

The angel opened his mouth to apologize again, but Crowley turned and crawled back into the driver’s side. He cleared his throat, swiped the tears off his face, and turned the key in the ignition, starting the Bentley. Aziraphale felt his heart breaking and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him as they continued on their way.

_*_

Aziraphale woke up in a pool of his own blood. The pain was overwhelming, and the angel could barely prevent crying out. Looking around, he could just make out the other bodies of executed angels. There were so many, dressed in pristine white robes. Aziraphale was once again wearing his old clothes, likely meant to be a mockery.

He could barely breathe or move. “Crowley,” he whispered, his eyes watering. Aziraphale was dying. He didn’t want to die here, in this place that was so cold and unwelcoming. He wanted to be somewhere where he had always felt safe.

Aziraphale wanted to go home.

As if on cue, there was a flickering just over his head. The angel looked up and saw the spinning Earth just overhead. If he wanted to go to London, he would have to get to his feet.

Hearing voices, Aziraphale quickly shut his eyes and played dead. Two angels passed by, speaking of burning the bodies of the executed. When he heard a door shut, Aziraphale opened his eyes again and looked at the globe. Swallowing, he carefully rolled onto his side, grimacing. Even though it was only a few steps away, it seemed like miles.

Placing one hand on the ground, Aziraphale attempted to get up. He slumped back to the floor and the pain almost made him pass out. He took a few deep breaths, looking at the globe again. Earth. His home. Crowley was there.

Just a few steps and he could go home.

A new determination ignited in him and Aziraphale carefully climbed to his feet, wavering. Blood spilled down his back and spots clouded his vision. Aziraphale stumbled over to the globe, waiting to see the right country. When he did, the dying angel didn’t hesitate. He reached out and felt himself sucked back to Earth.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: The Cottage

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale slowly woke up, consumed by pain. He coughed and it felt like a thousand blades stabbed into his back. His eyes watered as he looked up to the familiar voice. He saw Crowley’s gold eyes and smiled faintly, once again feeling the warmth of love that surrounded him. The demon looked concerned, his hand hovering above the angel. He withdrew it and nodded toward the windows.

“We’re here,” Crowley said quietly. Aziraphale furrowed his brow and looked out the window. It was dark, likely the middle of the night, but he could make out the little cottage they were parked in front of. Aziraphale smiled, despite the pain he was in. The cottage was straight out of a dream, a place the angel had hoped to eventually end up living in. He had occasionally sketched a similar little dwelling when he was daydreaming in his bookshop. In recent years, he had even dreamed of settling down with Crowley in such a place.

Seeing it brought tears to Aziraphale’s eyes. It was perfect, something out of a wonderful dream.

“It’s lovely,” he murmured. He heard Crowley sigh and open the door as he rose from the car. He made his way around the car and opened the back door, offering his hand. Aziraphale swallowed and put his hand in Crowley’s, allowing the demon to help him out of the Bentley. Aziraphale let out a soft whimper of pain and slumped against Crowley. He was in so much pain and just wanted to lie down.

“Just a few more steps, Aziraphale,” Crowley encouraged, draping his jacket over the angel. Aziraphale nodded, letting Crowley help him to the front door, which he opened with a snap of his fingers. Heavens, it hurt. Every movement, every breath, hurt. He had never experienced so much pain before. The only reason why he was still upright was because of Crowley’s support.

“This is a good place to spend one’s final days,” Aziraphale said as they stepped inside the cottage. It was dark, but something about it still felt cozy and warm. The demon kicked the door closed behind them.

“What have I said about dying talk? No dying talk. You’re not dying,” Crowley grumbled, irritated. He was obviously unwilling to face the reality of the situation.

“No angel has survived their wings being removed, Crowley,” Aziraphale reminded him gently. Truth be told, the angel was scared. He didn’t know where he would go once his body failed, once he did pass away. But he wanted to make sure Crowley was prepared. He didn’t want to leave his best friend devastated.

“That’s a load of bollocks. Another lie to keep angels in line,” Crowley replied easily as he continued leading Aziraphale through the small dark space. When the angel suddenly got lightheaded and paused, wavering on his feet, the demon did as well.

“Alright, angel?” Crowley asked, concerned. His grip was firm and steady, but still gentle. The angel knew he wouldn’t fall. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley continued helping him to a small hall. He kicked open a door, causing Aziraphale to wince. His friend could be so rough at times.

They entered a decently sized bedroom. The large bed looked inviting. There hadn’t been any beds in Heaven. Aziraphale looked toward the window. There hadn’t been any nighttime either, no beautiful stars to gaze upon.

Crowley helped him over to the bed, guiding him to sit. The demon removed his jacket from the angel, tossing it over to a nearby chair. Next, he helped Aziraphale remove the angel’s jacket and tossed that onto the chair as well. Aziraphale winced at the rough handling of his beloved coat.

“I’ll put it on a hanger, angel,” the demon grumbled. “Let’s just get you set up first.”

Crowley crouched down and removed the angel’s shoes, tossing them off to the side. He rose again and guided Aziraphale to lay down. The pillow felt so nice beneath his head and Aziraphale closed his eyes, tucking his arms close to his body. He didn’t think he would ever experience such comfort again. He felt Crowley pull a blanket over him.

“Comfortable?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded, smiling shakily.

“More than I have been in quite a while,” he replied, looking at his friend. Crowley swallowed and looked over to the door. He seemed to want to say something more, but couldn’t find the words.

“Right, well, I have to get some things from the car. You rest and then we’ll see about fixing you up,” the demon finally said. He turned to leave and suddenly, Aziraphale found he couldn’t bear the thought. Something was bothering the demon and Aziraphale wanted to help, wanted to try to make it better. He wanted to heal the hurt he’d caused his friend.

Aziraphale wanted things to be okay.

He reached out and touched his wrist, causing Crowley to freeze. The demon twisted to look back at him. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, but his eyes were still masked. It broke the angel’s heart.

“Did you mean it, Crowley? About running away? About being us?” Aziraphale asked. It was a plea. Tell me it isn’t too late, please, he thought. Please, tell me there is still a place for me in your heart.

He could still sense love from Crowley, but he wasn’t sure if there was any left for him.

Crowley cleared his throat and gently pulled his wrist away from Aziraphale.

“I will return shortly,” he said. Then he stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Aziraphale felt his eyes water and he struggled not to cry. Even as tears crept down his cheeks.

Aziraphale pulled his arm close to his body again and closed his eyes again, letting sleep take him.

Time passed slowly. Aziraphale remained asleep. He was aware of the light changing, getting a little brighter, but he didn’t open his eyes. He felt the sense of love that was so connected to Crowley enter the room again. Focusing on the demon took his mind off the overwhelming pain he was in. There was the sound of leaves being plucked, followed closely by the sound of a mortar and pestle. Something about the sound of grinding was soothing to the wounded angel.

“Damn Heaven, damn Metatron, damn angels. Damn everything,” Crowley muttered under his breath. The sound of grinding became a little more intense. Aziraphale still inwardly winced at such blasphemy, though he understood where the bitterness came from.

In another room, a tea kettle whistled. Aziraphale’s heart fluttered at the thought of a cup of tea. It had been ages since he’d had a good cup of tea. He heard Crowley’s footsteps exit the room and stride down the hall to the small kitchen. The whistling soon died down. Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He pulled the blankets closer to him, listening to the sounds in the kitchen.

It was so very strange how Aziraphale could still feel a sense of love, even though Crowley’s tone sounded angry. The angel had learned long ago that Crowley was fiercely protective of that which he loved. It wasn’t possessiveness, not in the slightest. Crowley had such a capacity to love and a willingness to defend those who were being treated unfairly. Such as the way humans were treated by both angels and demons.

It was one of the things that made Aziraphale fall in love with the demon.

Aziraphale feared what that would mean when the Metatron enacted the final judgment. He knew it was only a matter of time before Crowley went after the Voice of God and it worried him.

The sound of a cup being placed on the bedside table woke the angel fully. Aziraphale opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of a lovely blue teacup with steam curling out of the top. The familiarity of it warmed his heart.

“I brought you some tea,” Crowley said. “When you finish, I need to start tending to your wounds.”

Why? What is the point, Crowley? I’m done for and we both know it.

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley leaned over him, helping him to sit up. He piled up the pillows behind the angel, carefully leaning him back so that he was sitting up.

“Alright?” he asked. Aziraphale nodded, a shiver going through him. He felt tears gather in his eyes. The pain from the wounds was overwhelming and made him lightheaded. Crowley picked up the cup and saucer, waiting until Aziraphale looked steady enough. When the angel looked up at him and nodded, Crowley handed him the cup.

Aziraphale held the tea under his nose, inhaling the scent. He closed his eyes at the familiar scent. It was positively heavenly.

“You remember the blend I like,” he said gratefully, touched at the gesture. Crowley smirked, that familiar beautiful smirk. For a moment, it felt like nothing had happened and they were just enjoying each other’s company like they always did.

“We have been friends for over six thousand years and your taste in tea hasn’t changed all that much,” Crowley pointed out. “Two sugars and a dash of milk.”

Aziraphale sipped the hot liquid and leaned his head back. He felt so weak and vulnerable, as well as a little scared. His mind was racing, but all his thoughts were jumbled because of the pain he was in. It was making things even more unbearable. Aziraphale was simply a mess.

A strange quiet scratching sound drew his attention back to Crowley. He held a small silver tin in his hands, and he was unscrewing the top. The demon paused and glanced up at the angel.

“Aziraphale, did they…are you wounded anywhere else?” he asked hesitantly as he placed the small tin off to the side. Aziraphale started shivering again.

“No.”

Crowley nodded at his arms. “I noticed your wrists are bruised. I wasn’t sure if there had been a struggle. Or if something else happened before.”

“No, I wasn’t tortured,” Aziraphale replied, attempting to pull his sleeves down to hide his wrists. “The bruises are from the shackles they put on me when they brought me to the cells and then later when they brought me before the Metatron for judgement.”

“You weren’t…? Angel, you’re not serious,” Crowley said, stunned.

“Aside from the execution,” Aziraphale clarified. Crowley stared at him, visibly swallowing. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. After a moment, Crowley shook his head, obviously disappointed, and ran a hand over his face.

“May I examine your wrists?” he asked, tiredly. “I want to make sure nothing is broken.”

“I can assure you there’s not.”

“Let me look anyway? Please?” Crowley pressed. Aziraphale swallowed and held out his hands. Crowley took one, pushed back Aziraphale’s sleeve, and gently ran his fingers over the bruised area, carefully prodding the dark purple flesh. Aziraphale winced and then let out a soft cry. The demon immediately stopped and looked at his friend.

“That hurts?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale swallowed, nodding, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yes,” Aziraphale responded. “The pain in my back is worse.”

“It’s getting worse?”

Aziraphale sniffled and nodded again.

Crowley looked back to his wrist, continuing to examine it. Once he finished, he moved onto the next one, carefully feeling the bones. Once again, Aziraphale cringed and gasped in pain. The demon shook his head and grabbed a roll of gauze.

“Well, the good guys appear to have fractured your wrists,” Crowley said sharply, almost accusatory. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wince at the choice of words. “Thankfully, it appears to be just a hairline fracture.”

“I misspoke. In the bookshop, back when I left for heaven. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I am sorry for being so thoughtless. I don’t think you’re evil or bad. I never have,” Aziraphale said apologetically. Crowley glanced at him, but immediately refocused on his bruised wrists. He carefully and gently wound the gauze around them.

“They will probably be sensitive for a while,” Crowley said, less sharply. “Hairline fractures tend to heal on their own. I have some plants with anti-inflammatory properties. I’m going to make an ointment with them tomorrow. That should help with the healing process.”

He picked up the tin he had placed off to the side and continued unscrewing the top.

“What is that?” Aziraphale asked, happy to have something else to focus on. Crowley remained focused on the tin.

“It’s a salve angels use after fall…er, if their wings are damaged,” Crowley caught himself. “It numbs afflicted areas. The poultices I’m going to apply sting a bit at first, so this counters that unpleasantness.”

A lump formed in Aziraphale’s throat as a memory of Eden came to mind. When he shielded Crowley from the rain with his wing. The angel had always been proud of his magnificent wings. They were a beautiful snowy white color with just a hint of gold, which you couldn’t see unless you were standing close. They were a part of Aziraphale.

And they had been taken from him, violently. He closed his eyes and winced as he remembered the first stroke falling. How much it had hurt.

“I don’t have wings anymore,” Aziraphale said softly. He was unable to meet Crowley’s gaze, feeling a faint hint of shame. There was nothing more he could have done, he knew, but he should have struggled more, tried to fight back. Gabriel had been right. He had gone soft.

“Wings can grow back,” Crowley said, unbothered. Aziraphale looked up at him, wondering if he was drunk. He was talking nonsense.

“Perhaps not as brilliant as before, but who cares. Wings are wings,” the demon continued with a small shrug.

Aziraphale stared at him, unsure how to even respond to that. The demon was obviously teasing him, but why? After a minute, Crowley rose to his feet.

“I have to warn you, angel. This likely won’t be pleasant and it’s going to be rather time-consuming. I’m going to clean the wounds first and then dress them.”

Aziraphale sighed. His last few days were apparently going to be spent in pain. He placed his teacup off to the side. He started unbuttoning his shirt, gritting his teeth in pain, and Crowley moved to his side to help him. The demon was so gentle and attentive.

“I don’t think it can possibly feel worse than it already does,” he told Crowley as the demon put his shirt off to the side. Crowley raised his eyebrows and moved so that he was behind Aziraphale. The angel reached to the side and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to his chest. It allowed him to focus on something other than the pain.

Crowley unwound the gauze. Aziraphale closed his eyes when Crowley gently touched his back. Despite the pain, his touch was nice. Of all the things he missed about Earth, Crowley was who he missed the most.

Suddenly, he felt a coughing fit coming on. It became hard to draw in breath. He heard Crowley suck in his breath.

“Is it bad?” Aziraphale asked, coughing.

“Nah. I’ve seen worse,” Crowley said easily, though Aziraphale knew he was lying. He kept coughing, unable to catch his breath. Each cough caused spots to dance in his vision and Aziraphale felt himself starting to tilt forward.

Then, Crowley’s strong, warm hand pressed against his chest, keeping him upright.

Heaven had always been so cold and sterile, unwelcoming. Crowley was warm and comfortable, home. Crowley was love.

“Aziraphale?”

He sounded so concerned, something he had never heard from other angels. Aziraphale forced his failing body to draw in a breath.

“I’m fine,” the angel gasped. “Best get on with it.”

Crowley’s hand stayed on his chest for a moment more. Then the demon refocused on caring for the angel. Aziraphale felt a cool sensation as Crowley started applying the salve. He couldn’t help but wince when Crowley touched his tender back.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whimpered, his entire body shaking. Tears started spilling down his cheeks as he remembered the botched execution. His breath came in short gasps. He felt a warm hand slide into his, grasping it gently. Aziraphale felt a little calmer. It felt nice, holding Crowley’s hand again. It was one of his favorite feelings.

“I’m here, angel,” Crowley murmured. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

No, I’m not. None of us are. Not with the Metatron bringing about another Armageddon, the angel thought. Aziraphale drew in a few deep breaths, clutching Crowley’s hand.

“Okay?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded, reluctantly letting go of Crowley’s hand. Crowley moved back behind him and tugged another glove on. He touched Aziraphale’s back again and the angel involuntarily flinched.

“Sorry,” Crowley muttered. “How does that feel? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “No. No, the salve feels quite nice. Did you make it yourself?”

The salve felt wonderfully cool and was combatting the pain. It wasn’t completely taking care of it, but it was soothing it. Aziraphale found it easier to breathe.

“Mmhm,” Crowley replied. “Most of us who fell learned to make various poultices and salves to combat the discomfort that resulted from falling.”

Falling, he fell. Crowley was cast out of heaven. He was sent to hell. He lived and worked in Hell for so many years. That was something that always bothered Aziraphale. How could Crowley be condemned to hell? Crowley who always did what was right. Crowley who protected and cared about humans. Who radiated love. Obviously he had his flaws, but did he deserve Hell?

Crowley had never spoken in detail about his fall. He vaguely spoke about it on occasion, but never went into specifics. It was something Aziraphale never asked him about. He knew it was traumatic for the demon and didn’t wish to distress him.

But perhaps he wanted to tell Aziraphale. Perhaps Crowley needed to talk to someone, but didn’t know how to bring up the topic.

“You never…you have never spoken of what you experienced when you fell. You don’t have to, obviously, but…but if you wish to, I will listen,” Aziraphale told him. I hope you feel as safe with me as I do with you. You can trust me.

Crowley remained silent as he continued applying the salve. Aziraphale sighed and looked back to the ground. A sudden sharp pain knifed through him, and he gasped, clutching the pillow tightly. Crowley briefly stopped and Aziraphale could practically feel his anxiousness. Then, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, reassuring him. The angel focused on it.

After a moment, Crowley continued his work.

“When I fell, my back was raw for days. My wings had practically burned to a crisp,” Crowley started speaking, much to Aziraphale’s surprise. “Thought I would die the first couple days afterwards. Beelzebub taught most of us how to make poultices that helped with the pain and prevented infection.”

“Awfully generous for the prince of hell,” Aziraphale said, rather confused. Beelzebub had never struck him as the charitable type. Not before the whole ordeal with Gabriel. Even after, Aziraphale wasn’t sure generosity was a word he would use to describe the former prince.

“Generosity and charitability had nothing to do with it,” Crowley replied, sounding amused. “Even a fallen angel is powerful. Hell needs its legions, so it’s in their best interest that we survive.”

A tear crawled down the angel’s cheek at the thought of how poorly treated Crowley must have been. He always seemed to be so alone and it broke Aziraphale’s heart. He loved Crowley and couldn’t stand the thought of him being hurt. Many years ago, Crowley had admitted he was lonely and Aziraphale wondered if loneliness was the only way to survive hell.

“I imagine things were rather difficult for you when you first fell,” he said softly. He turned his head a little, glancing back at Crowley. The red-haired demon looked up briefly, meeting his gaze. He shrugged nonchalantly.

“I got used to it. It wasn’t long before our paths crossed again,” Crowley replied, focusing solely on Aziraphale’s wounds. “My wings healed eventually. I like the black feathers. White is such a boring color, never really suited me.”

Aziraphale suddenly wanted to hug Crowley, to hold him close. He didn’t think it would be welcomed. He had deeply hurt his friend and he couldn’t brush that aside.

After a moment, Crowley stood from the bed, removing the latex gloves he had put on and tossing them in the wastebasket in the corner. He screwed the top back on the tin, placing it on the chest of drawers.

“I’m going to get the poultice,” he told Aziraphale. The angel nodded and watched him go. Once Crowley had left the room, Aziraphale put a hand to his brow. His head was starting to hurt, a building pressure behind his eyes. Aziraphale tried to breathe steadily. Everything was a complete and total mess. The angel didn’t know how to protect the Earth from what was coming, how to protect the humans. How to protect the demon he loved.

He reached to the side, sucking in his breath through his teeth at the pull on his wounds, and picked up the teacup again. There was a little left and it tasted amazing, even lukewarm. He had missed tea while he was away. Aziraphale looked up when Crowley re-entered the room, holding a container in his hands.

The demon placed the container on the bedside table, folding his lanky form into the comfortable chair near the bed. His gold eyes turned back to Aziraphale, and the angel found him unreadable. Something about that hurt. Aziraphale longed to go back to the times before this chasm existed between him and Crowley. He dropped his gaze, tugging at his fingers. The pain in his back was growing again.

“Needs a few minutes to cool,” Crowley told him. “How long were you in the bookshop?”

Aziraphale swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t quite know. There were so many, Crowley. I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

The angel started trembling even more, tears rolling down his cheeks. He could feel despair creeping up on him. He’d done what he could to thwart the Metatron’s schemes, but it hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been nearly enough. He’d bought humanity maybe a few more months at most, nowhere near enough time. Aziraphale had sacrificed everything he loved, and it had been for naught.

The mattress dipped slightly as Crowley sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt heavenly and Aziraphale choked on a sob. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, but didn’t feel ashamed. He knew the demon never judged him for it.

“Come here,” Crowley murmured, gently guiding Aziraphale to lean against him. “It’s alright.”

“I couldn’t go along with the Metatron’s plans. I did everything I could think of to protect the Earth, tried reasoning with him. He would hear none of it. When angels started being accused of treason, I knew it was only a matter of time before he would come for me. Everything happened so fast, Crowley. After they took my wings…I don’t know how I escaped. I just…If I was going to die, I wanted to be in my bookshop, where I had been happy. Where we had been happy.”

Aziraphale slumped against Crowley, shivering even as he continued to weep. He wept for all that had happened, for how scared and lonely he had been, for his lost wings. It was like an emotional dam had been shattered and the angel couldn’t stop his tears from falling. He hadn’t dared shed any tears or shown any emotion while he was in Heaven. It had gotten to the point where Aziraphale no longer felt like himself and he was terrified that he would never be able to find himself again.

He felt Crowley’s arms wrapped around him, gently holding him close and murmuring words of comfort. It calmed the angel and he clung to the demon.

“You were right, Crowley. About everything. Both sides are going to war against humanity and the Metatron has started to bring it to fruition,” he wept. “None will be spared. I tried so hard to convince him of the good in people, of the beauty of this planet, and when he wouldn’t listen, I tried to thwart his plans. But I failed. I failed.”

“We’ll stop him,” Crowley stated confidently. “After you have recovered, we’ll figure all this out and we’ll stop it together.”

“It has already started. It’s too late.”

“We stopped one apocalypse. Stopping another one will be a walk in the park.”

Aziraphale sniffled and looked at Crowley, feeling a faint sense of hope. Crowley smiled sadly at him.

“And this time, we’ll make sure it sticks. We’ll make sure Heaven and Hell know Earth is off limits,” Crowley added.

There was a sureness in his words that gave Aziraphale hope. The demon was right: they had averted one apocalypse. When they worked together…

But they wouldn’t be working together. Aziraphale had been fatally wounded. He didn’t have much time left. Could Crowley stop this war all on his own?

Of course, he could.

While his faith in Heaven had been shaken to the core, Aziraphale’s faith in Crowley was unwavering. The demon had never let him down. Aziraphale had witnessed him do the impossible and barely break a sweat.

The angel only wished he could be there to see it. Perhaps I will be able to watch over him from wherever I end up.

Aziraphale smiled shakily, tears still escaping from his eyes. “I missed you, Crowley. I really missed you.”

Crowley cleared his throat and swiped at a tear that escaped his eyes. He stood from the bed and retrieved the container. Aziraphale watched him as he returned to the bed.

“This will likely be quite warm,” the demon told him. “Are you ready, angel?”

Aziraphale nodded his consent, tightly hugging the pillow to his chest. He bit his lower lip as Crowley started applying the poultice. It was warm, but pleasantly so. The wounds were still tender, however. Any touch made them ache and sting, reminding the angel of what he had lost.

Yet the demon’s gentle touch was comforting. Aziraphale closed his eyes and focused on the sense of love in the room, allowing it to wash away the worst of the pain.

_*_

They had been so rough when they had come for him. Aziraphale hadn’t recognized any of the Archangels who had come to retrieve him. He barely had a chance to register what was happening before heavy shackles were slammed on his wrists, a blindfold roughly tied over his eyes, and a gag fastened over his mouth. Then he was dragged to the cells.

He should have fought back. Perhaps they would have killed him faster.

“He has been corrupted by a demon.”

“Defiled.”

“Pathetic.”

“The stench of evil is still on him.”

“Once the Metatron is done with him, we’re going to hunt down the demon.”

“Are we going to discorporate him?”

“The Metatron wants to deal with him personally. He wants to hang his dark wings on the wall.”

Pain, blinding pain. His wing falling beside him, blood staining the white feathers.

He was dying, he was dying. It hurt so much.

He was alone. He was so alone.

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale jerked awake, unable to breathe. He clung to a shirt and curled up against the lanky form that was beside him, despite the agony that knifed through him. Tears spilled from his eyes; his entire body trembled. Another arm wrapped around him, and he felt Crowley hold him close. Suddenly, Aziraphale felt safe. It had been so very long since he had felt truly safe.

“Bad dreams, angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded as he struggled to get ahold of himself, but was still deeply shaken. He swallowed and tried to get his breathing under control. Crowley continued to hold him.

“Will you sleep here tonight?” Aziraphale asked, unable to speak above a whisper. “I fear the memories that await me when I close my eyes. I was so alone in Heaven. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

The angel knew he had no right to ask such a thing from the demon, but he couldn’t help it. He was so scared and in agony. The demon made him feel safe. In that moment, Aziraphale wanted to feel safe. He braced himself for Crowley to remain silent and return to the chair where he had been sleeping.

“Of course, angel,” Crowley said, smiling. “I never turn down a comfortable bed.”

Aziraphale was speechless as he watched Crowley climb into bed, shifting around until he found a comfortable position. The demon turned his head, looking over at the angel. Aziraphale was on his side, facing Crowley. He was shivering violently.

“It hurts,” he murmured, tears escaping from his eyes.

“I know, Aziraphale. I’m sorry.”

“I-I can’t…I can’t,” Aziraphale whimpered, unable to finish his thought as he gritted his teeth when a wave of pain washed over him. No matter what he did, it made the pain worse.

Crowley reached out and gently took the angel’s hands. He held them against his chest, meeting Aziraphale’s gaze again. Aziraphale could feel the beating of Crowley’s heart. The steady rhythm calmed him.

“Have I ever broken my word to you, angel? Have I ever let you down when it really mattered?” the demon asked, softly and calmly. With tears welling in his eyes, Aziraphale shook his head.

“We’re going to get you through this, Aziraphale. I promise,” Crowley swore to him. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m scared, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. He hated to burden his friend with such things, but he couldn’t help it. Whenever he was scared or nervous, he turned to Crowley. They had always relied on each other and it always worked out.

Crowley reached out, wrapping his arms around the wounded angel, holding him close to his chest, while being careful of the wounds on his back.

“I’m not going anywhere. Everything will be okay.”

Despite all the pain and nervousness, Aziraphale smiled weakly. If he didn’t have much time left, at least he could spend what remained in the arms of the one he loved. He heard Crowley start to hum softly, a beautiful tune. Aziraphale closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: The Fever

When Aziraphale next awoke, he was certain he was dying. An unnatural heat was burning through his body. He thrashed around, trying to cool down, trying to escape from the pain that was overwhelming him. The light was so bright it blinded him. It was too hot. He was burning up. Hellfire, it had to be hellfire.

I’m in hell! I’ve fallen and been condemned to hell!

His fist connected with something solid, and he distantly heard a voice curse loudly. A pair of hands took ahold of him, and he struggled against them, flailing as much as he could. Pain consumed his every thought. Agony made his vision swim and panic flooded his senses. He cried out for his friend, calling desperately for Crowley. He needed help.

“Aziraphale, I’m here! I’m right here! Calm down!”

The bright light was blinding, the pain all consuming. He was lost in the flames.

Yet…he could sense love. Aziraphale could clearly sense love. It didn’t make any sense, but he was surrounded by love. A gentle hand touched his face, then his brow.

“Dammit, you’re burning up. Hang on. Stay right there!”

Aziraphale heard footsteps dashing out of the room. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, and he could feel sweat pouring down his face. It was so hot. And the pain. The pain was driving him mad. He was drifting in and out of awareness. Was this what death felt like?

Was this what falling felt like?

Suddenly, something wonderfully cool and damp was placed on his brow. There was a strange cracking sound and something cold was placed on his chest, under his shirt. The wounded angel groaned weakly, his head lolling to the side. Gentle hands carefully propped him up, which made breathing slightly easier.

“Aziraphale, look at me.”

The commanding voice broke through his feverish jumbled thoughts. The angel opened his eyes and met a familiar yellow gaze.

“No, no, no! Why are you here? You must leave, Crowley! You don’t belong in Hell! You shouldn’t be here! You’ll be—”

“Shh, we’re not in Hell. Well, not literally anyway,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale furrowed his brow when he noticed a strange red liquid coming from Crowley’s nose and lip.

“You’re—you’re bleeding,” Aziraphale said, his chest still heaving as he tried to draw in breath. He reached out with a trembling hand. Crowley leaned back, away from his touch.

“I’m fine, angel,” Crowley said, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand. “Just a punch to the face. It will fix itself by tonight. Whoa, easy.”

The angel slumped back, his head spinning. He felt strange and it scared him. The events of the previous night were slowly coming back to him, but everything was so muddled. He was in so much pain.

“It’s so hot,” he mumbled as Crowley pulled him into his arms, keeping him slightly elevated.

“Drink this,” Crowley urged, putting a glass to his lips. Aziraphale tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. There was something he had to tell Crowley…something he wanted to tell him…

“You should get a telescope.”

The demon furrowed his brow. “What?”

“A telescope, like the one I had in the shop for you,” Aziraphale repeated, pausing as he grimaced in pain. “It will make this place feel more like home. You can look at stars and nebulas on clear nights.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, angel. We can get a telescope, once you’re feeling better,” Crowley said, putting the glass to the angel’s lips. “Here, drink some water.”

Aziraphale obediently sipped the cool water, even though his stomach flipped a little. He slumped back, turning his head away from the glass. His head was swimming and he still felt uncomfortably hot. He heard the demon place the glass on the bedside table before placing him against the pillows again.

“It’s so hot. And bright,” Aziraphale whimpered. He let out a cry and gripped Crowley’s arm tightly.

He could just make out Crowley’s lean form slide off the bed and move over to the windows, opening them and then drawing the blinds. The demon was saying something, but the angel couldn’t make out any of the words. The light in the room became mercifully dim and the air became fresher. He felt Crowley’s hand on the side of his face. He blearily opened his eyes. Please. Please hold me in your arms. I’m scared, Crowley, but I feel safe in your arms.

“Aziraphale?”

I should have told you that I love you when I had the chance. And now it is too late.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered apologetically. This was it. This was the end. He could feel his body failing him. He hadn’t had a chance to apologize to Crowley, to tell him he loved him.

Crowley’s eyes widened, a panicked expression overtaking his face. He grabbed the angel’s arms, clutching them tightly. Aziraphale grimaced at the pain that raced through him, letting out a soft cry.

“No! No, Aziraphale! You have to fight,” Crowley urged frantically. His phone started buzzing and he swore, pulling it out.

“What is it?” he snapped, pausing. “Muriel, take a breath. What happened?”

“Muriel!” Aziraphale cried weakly. “Crowley, please! You have to make sure they’re safe!”

“Shhh,” Crowley hissed. “Calm down.”

“The Metatron will kill them! He’s killing all he views as corrupted,” Aziraphale told him, feeling more and more frantic. Crowley looked as though he had just been struck.

“Corrupted? Aziraphale, is that—?”

Aziraphale threw back the blankets and pushed himself up, ignoring Crowley’s question. He was focusing on the wrong thing. Their friend was in very real danger! They had to protect them! They had to protect all of them!

“No, angel! Stop!” he could hear Crowley say. He felt hands try to hold him in place, but struggled against them. He stood from bed.

The pain made Aziraphale’s vision go white and made him extremely dizzy. He felt himself crashing to the floor, saved only by a pair of strong arms. The angel felt himself slowly lowered to the ground. Each ragged breath felt like it took effort, but Aziraphale kept struggling. He had to get out of here. He had to protect his friends. Had to…had to…had to…

All is lost. I’m helpless. I’m dying.

I failed. I failed them all.

“I lost Crowley. I cannot lose anyone else. I can’t. I can’t,” Aziraphale insisted deliriously. “I cannot fail them when they need me the most. Please. Please, help me.”

Just when despair started to overtake him, Aziraphale felt something press against his temple. The warm feeling of love washed over him, calming him, slowing his racing thoughts and heart. Breathing became slightly easier as everything slowed down.

Suddenly, it seemed like time stopped. There was a calmness that settled over the space, a refreshing quiet. The pain became muted. Aziraphale felt his body relax and he drew in a deep breath. He closed his eyes.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured, turning his head more towards the sensation. “Oh, that feels nice. It feels like…like love.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, calmly. “Take a deep breath, okay?”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said, his muddled thoughts clearing a little. It couldn’t be, could it? Crowley would never be in hell, not willingly. Unless…they weren’t in hell.

“It’s me. I’m right here, angel. Right next to you. I’ve got you,” Crowley replied. The angel grasped the demon’s wrist, focusing on the feeling. Crowley did not pull away. He was calm and steady, which told Aziraphale they weren’t in peril.

Aziraphale inhaled, held his breath for a moment, and then exhaled. He did it again and his heart stopped racing. He slumped as the adrenaline left his body in a rush. The only thing that stopped him from falling forward was Crowley’s strong arms.

“I need you to stay with me, Aziraphale. Please. I know it’s hard, I know it hurts, but you have to keep fighting. I know you’re strong enough to get through this,” Crowley said, as he helped the angel back into the comfortable bed. There was a hint of begging in his voice. Aziraphale swallowed, unsure if he could do what Crowley was asking. The demon pulled a light blanket over him, tucking it around the angel. Their eyes met briefly and Aziraphale saw such concern, such love, in his friend’s beautiful gold eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thin from pain.

“Mr. Crowley, are you still there? What happened?”

Crowley gently touched his shoulder. “I will return shortly. Rest.”

Aziraphale grasped his hand. “You will make sure Muriel is safe? Make sure nothing happens to them?”

Crowley nodded, squeezing his hand. “I give you my word. Nothing is going to happen to Muriel.”

Aziraphale sighed and laid back, wincing at the pain that knifed through him. He could feel his eyes watering. He felt Crowley pull another one of the thinner blankets over him and then step out of the room.

The angel drifted off to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he was awoken by a gentle touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and met Crowley’s concerned yellow eyes. The angel noticed he was holding a jar of ointment which was a pale green color.

“Muriel?” Aziraphale asked.

“They promised to lay low and not make waves. I gave them advice on how to stay off the Metatron’s radar. They’re getting out of London, gonna stay at the flat where I was staying in Reading. They’ll be fine for a while,” Crowley reassured him. The demon hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Aziraphale, I had a thought. What if we put holy water in an ointment or a poultice—”

“No,” Aziraphale immediately said, firmly and with no room for argument. Crowley gritted his teeth, frustrated.

“Angel, it will give you a better chance of surviving. It will at least help with the pain,” he pointed out. “If I wear gloves, I won’t be harmed.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “The risk is still too high. If a drop gets on you, it could kill you. It will hurt you. No, Crowley. Do not use holy water.”

The demon let out a growl and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. After a moment, he nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Alright. No holy water for now.”

“No, not just for now. Not ever.”

Crowley looked at him with a hurt expression. “Don’t ask that of me, Aziraphale. If you get worse and that’s the only thing that can save you—”

“Then you will let me go. You will not sacrifice your life for mine,” the angel replied stubbornly. “I won’t allow it. No holy water.”

The demon dragged his hands over his face, shaking his head.

“Promise me, Crowley,” Aziraphale demanded. Crowley glared at him, grinding his teeth.

“Fine, I promise you I will not use holy water,” he promised, obviously not happy.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said softly, gratefully.

The angel gasped in pain, tightly gripping the sheets and gritting his teeth. Crowley immediately moved closer.

“Aziraphale? How bad is the pain? I know it hurts, but can you tell if it’s the same or worse?”

The angel swallowed and closed his eyes, thinking about his answer.

“It doesn’t sting like it did before,” Aziraphale replied. “But the pain is blinding. It’s not getting any better. It’s—it’s hard to breathe.”

He could feel his hold on consciousness slip and laid back. Distantly, he heard Crowley’s voice, but he couldn’t respond. He heard the demon opening drawers.

“I have something that might help,” Crowley’s voice sounded both near and far. “An ointment I made from plants that have natural pain relief properties.”

The demon carefully helped the angel sit upright. He quickly set about removing the bandages and applying the ointment. Aziraphale could feel himself drifting off as Crowley continued working to treat the wounds on the angel’s back.

Next, he felt Crowley gently unwrap his wrists, which were throbbing in pain. He felt the demon gently spread a pleasantly cool cream on them and soon, the worst of the pain dissipated.

The feeling of love comforted him, soothing the ache that continued to race through him. He could feel it through every gentle touch, and it made him feel safe. It made him feel loved. Aziraphale worried about whether Crowley did still love him, if he could, but feeling the sense of love from the demon made him believe he could eventually.

_*_

Aziraphale stepped outside the field hospital, lowering his mask and inhaling the night air. He could smell the acrid smoke in the distance, could hear the shells falling. Every now and again, the ground underfoot would shake. Glancing to the side, the angel saw a doctor smoking a cigarette. It was a rare luxury. The man’s eyes were haunted, his clothing bloodied from the grim work of stitching bodies back together.

Or removing destroyed limbs.

Looking around, Aziraphale spotted a chair nearby. He sighed and walked over to it, slumping down. He was exhausted, perhaps for the first time ever. The angel had lost track of how long he had been at that particular field hospital. The previous one he’d been at had been shelled. He’d lost a friend, a delightful nurse who dreamed of returning home and opening a bakery. After they had buried the casualties, Aziraphale had written to her family, letting them know of all the good she had done as a nurse. He hoped it offered them some comfort.

He slumped forward, clasping his hands together, and praying to God for guidance. The angel wanted to return to his bookshop, to leave all this death and misery behind him. It felt like the great flood all over again. There were so many casualties and they were all so young. They came to the hospital mangled and were sent right back to the front lines after minimal patching up. Aziraphale was surrounded by so much death and suffering, and it hurt. He was a principality. It was his duty to protect these people, but they were so determined to destroy each other.

The loud hum of an engine drew Aziraphale out of his thoughts. In the distance, he could see headlights bobbing around chaotically. Most likely more patients being brought in. The wounded were brought in at all hours. The angel frowned, sensing something…familiar.

Love. He distinctly felt love. That wasn’t uncommon. There was so much love in the hospitals. It was mostly weariness, but there was still love.

However, this was different. There was something about this love that Aziraphale recognized. His eyes widened in the darkness, and he slowly stood from the chair. It couldn’t be, could it?

The ambulance continued traveling up the road, bobbing and weaving. As it got closer, the driver laid on the horn. That snapped the doctor out of his stupor, and he straightened up.

“Looks like they’re bringing more boys in,” he muttered to himself, putting out his cigarette. The doors to the hospital swung open as a few nurses exited the building.

“Dear god, he’s driving like he’s got Satan himself after him,” one remarked. Had he not been so tired, Aziraphale might have chuckled at the observation.

The ambulance soon screeched to a halt in front of the hospital and there was a flurry of activity as the driver hopped out of the vehicle. Aziraphale felt his heart flutter when he recognized the lean figure dressed in black in the headlights. He was wearing the uniform of a British ambulance driver, complete with the ridiculous hat.

“Oi! We got a lady here in need of some medical assistance, got hit with some shrapnel while driving us out of a scrap. Gotta couple patients in back who need some serious patching up, narrowly escaped the gas a couple hours ago. Weren’t so lucky with the bullets that followed,” Crowley informed the medics who were helping with the patients he had brought. Aziraphale watched as he helped a woman out of the front seat. Her arm was bleeding quite heavily, but other than that, she looked alright. Some stitches and a good night’s rest and she would be behind the wheel again, saving lives.

“There ya go, ma’am.”

“You drive like a maniac, ya bastard,” she responded with a smile. Crowley smirked and gave her a small salute as a nurse led her into the field hospital. The smirk fell as he watched the stretchers carried into the field hospital. Aziraphale didn’t need to be close to see at least one of the patients he brought in wasn’t going to last the night. He sent a prayer to God for the young man’s soul and to ease his passing.

Crowley looked up and froze when he saw Aziraphale, his mouth dropping partly open. The angel smiled tiredly, moving toward his friend. It warmed his heart to see a familiar face.

“I had heard about a fearless ambulance driver who drove like a lunatic even in war zones, who was apparently unaffected by shells and gas. I was wondering if that might be you.”

Crowley lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the angel tightly. Aziraphale was startled by the reaction.

“Um, good to see you too, Crowley.”

“I thought…” Crowley pushed him back, looking him up and down. “I heard you were working in the field hospital near the front, but when I got there, it had been shelled. I was told no one survived. I had been looking for you for months.”

“Ah, yes. I was in Heaven at the time the hospital was shelled. I had to write a long overdue memo. By the time I returned, it had…”

Aziraphale suddenly got choked up and couldn’t breathe. He dropped his gaze, trying to swallow back his tears, but he couldn’t. He felt Crowley take his hand and lead him over to the back of the ambulance. They sat inside the open back.

“Oh Crowley, there were so many. So many lives snuffed out in an instant. They were so young, most were barely more than children,” Aziraphale wept. “I shouldn’t have left. If I were there, I could have used a miracle to protect us.”

“You don’t know that, Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. Even if you had been there, the shells are so bloody destructive. There’s no way you could have protected a whole hospital.”

“But I could have saved some,” Aziraphale insisted. “There is so much death. No matter what I do, it seems like there’s always more death and suffering.”

“I know,” Crowley said. “It’s just…slaughter. Nothing but senseless slaughter, because some human men want to play war.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers as they sat side by side.

“Aziraphale, why didn’t you stay in your bookshop? You don’t have to be here. Hell and Heaven have declared neutrality on this one. For better or worse, they’re letting the humans sort it out,” Crowley mentioned.

“I know. There are no other angels here. But there is so much suffering. This is where we’re needed most. I cannot interfere, and I won’t, but I cannot leave the humans to suffer. I read dispatches every day of the suffering in the trenches, and I went to Heaven to file for special permission to work there.”

“In the trenches!? Have you completely lost your mind!?”

“My request was denied, but I was told I could work in the field hospital of my choosing,” Aziraphale finished, ignoring Crowley glaring at him. “The humans deserve some comfort in the face of such devastation. I cannot turn my back on them. It’s my duty to protect this world and I won’t abandon it. I cannot.”

Crowley sighed and looked out across the land. Far in the distance, they could see brief flares of light as bombs continued to drop.

“What about you? Why are you here?”

“Got bored, decided to see if you had any good wine. When I saw you had gone off to war, I decided to see if you needed to…I don’t know, make use of the arrangement, something along those lines,” Crowley replied, shrugging a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh? But didn’t you think I had been discorporated?” Aziraphale asked, confused. Crowley shifted his weight.

“I thought it possible. After that, I just…I don’t know. Didn’t seem like much of a point going back to London and I know how much humans mean to you. I like driving, and that seems to be a useful skill here. Had nothing better to do,” Crowley explained, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel smiled, feeling his heart warm.

“Were you helping humans for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Crowley grumbled. “I was doing it for myself. I like driving.”

Aziraphale continued smiling. There was a loud whistling in the distance as another mortar fell. Sometimes it felt like it was never going to end. The smell of death always hung heavily in the air.

“Is Hell going to discipline you? For your actions?” Aziraphale asked, concerned. Crowley shook his head.

“I don’t think Hell or Heaven is paying much heed to what is happening here, angel,” he said grimly. “They’ve done their part. They don’t care about anything else.”

Aziraphale sighed. “There is so much suffering, Crowley.”

The demon didn’t respond, but gently squeezed the angel’s hand. Aziraphale found he felt more comforted than he had in over a year. Even though there was camaraderie among the doctors and nurses, Aziraphale felt a little isolated from them. He could not interfere, so he could only do so much to help alleviate the suffering that surrounded them daily.

He had watched so many humans die, held their hands as they left this life for the next, did his best to comfort them as they took their last rattling breaths, and it was starting to take a toll on him. The angel was determined to remain in the field until the end of the war, but he wasn’t sure he would ever recover from the experience.

But now that Crowley was here, the task didn’t seem quite so daunting.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale began carefully and the demon looked over at him. “Would you perhaps consider staying here? Continuing transporting patients to this hospital, I mean. I just…it’s,” he sighed. “We don’t know how long this war will continue and it’s helpful to have a friend.”

Crowley tilted his head a little, contemplative.

“Are you tired too?” he asked quietly. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley looked out across the dark fields. The night hid much of the horror.

“Yeah. I can stay,” the demon answered easily, leaning back a little. “I imagine you have some kind of lodgings here.”

Aziraphale nodded again, gesturing to a plain building. “Doctors and clergy stay in there. It’s not much, but I can scrounge up a cot and a lantern for you. It’s not terribly roomy, but there’s some space.”

“Any good boos?”

Aziraphale smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The food isn’t terrible, but it is quite bland and there isn’t much of it. We can eat supper together, if you like.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, lead the way, angel.”

They stood up, reluctantly letting go of the other’s hand. Aziraphale started leading Crowley to the small building where they would be staying.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said, hesitating when the demon looked at him. “No blessings or temptations, minimal miracles. We just help those who are suffering, okay?”

“Of course, angel,” Crowley agreed. “Work is the last thing on my mind.”

*

Aziraphale and Crowley remained together throughout the war, helping those who they could. They leaned on each other, helping each other deal with the monumental amount of suffering that was experienced throughout the war. They traveled to different hospitals, wherever was most in need of help. They always slept on cots next to each other wherever they went.

Over the years, they had numerous close calls. But no matter how much danger there was, it never deterred them. Together, they offered comfort to countless injured humans, saved lives, and reduced the suffering they encountered.

When the armistice was signed and the war declared over, they returned to London. Crowley accompanied Aziraphale back to the bookshop. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the journey. He had mentally shut down as he tried to process all the horror he had experienced. Judging from Crowley’s blank look, the demon was in a similar state.

It was only when Crowley parked in front of the bookshop that Aziraphale came back to his senses. Tears welled in his eyes when he saw the old familiar space. His home.

“I never thought I’d see it again,” he murmured, his voice wobbling. “It’s strange, being back here after spending so long on the front lines.”

“Yeah. Home sweet home,” Crowley replied, shifting his weight. “Angel, do you mind if I stay for the weekend? Hell is gonna start sending out assignments again. And I’m just…I’m really tired. I want to rest for a few days.”

“Of course, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied, smiling sadly. “You can stay for however long you want or need to.”

Crowley smiled appreciatively and opened his side of the car. Aziraphale did the same on his side.

They walked into the bookshop together. Aziraphale was relieved to see the owner of the record shop had stayed true to his word and kept the bookshop neat and tidy. There wasn’t a hint of dust, and the books were just how he left them. The angel smiled as he ran his fingers over the spines. How he had missed that sensation.

“I’ll pop by the local shop to get some groceries later. I know there won’t be much, but I can probably find enough to whip up a decent meal. We’ll make do. I still have some tea in the back. I’ll put a kettle on,” Aziraphale said as he started puttering around the shop. “At least, I think I do. Is there anything you need, Crowley? Crowley?”

Aziraphale turned around when the demon didn’t respond. For a moment, he panicked, thinking Hell had dragged his friend back down again. Then, he heard a soft sigh.

He looked around and soon spotted Crowley stretched out on the lounge, still wearing his uniform. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were closed. He had placed his round sunglasses on a nearby table. He looked so comfortable and it warmed Aziraphale’s heart.

The angel miracled a blanket, which he draped over his friend. Reaching out, he gently ran a hand through Crowley’s hair. Then he went to the backroom and put a kettle on.

“Did we do enough, Crowley?” Aziraphale would ask over the years.

“We did what we could, Aziraphale,” Crowley would always respond.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Clean

The next day, Crowley helped Aziraphale to the washroom. The angel wanted to clean up and change into fresh clothes. He felt so weak and could barely keep his eyes open. Crowley had been reluctant, but Aziraphale pleaded with him. The angel wanted to scrub the remnants of the last few months out of his skin.

Crowley ran a bath and when it was ready, he slowly led the wounded angel into the washroom. He helped Aziraphale undress and then get into the bathtub. The water was the perfect temperature, not too hot but not cold either. Once Aziraphale was comfortable, or as comfortable as he could get, Crowley gathered his clothes from the floor.

“Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes? I want to change the bedding so I can clean the sheets,” Crowley said. Aziraphale nodded, his eyes closing involuntarily.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Crowley’s irritated voice pierced through his consciousness and Aziraphale sluggishly opened his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep, Aziraphale. I will be two minutes. Stay awake.”

He handed Aziraphale a soft sponge and a bar of soap. Then he stood up and stepped out of the washroom. Aziraphale stared at the items in his hands for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to move without causing further pain. He quickly found it was impossible and just set about gingerly cleaning himself. The warm water felt so wonderful. The soap had a lovely floral scent and felt nice on Aziraphale’s skin.

The angel’s eyes welled up with tears and he slowly put the sponge and soap off to the side, wrapping his arms around himself. He could feel tears starting to stream down his face and he started trembling. He felt so naked without his wings, so ashamed. He didn’t want to think about what his back looked like, how scarred. Aziraphale drew in a shuddering breath, reaching for the soap and sponge again.

After a few minutes, the door opened again, and Aziraphale looked up. Crowley stepped inside, clean bed clothes in his arms. He placed them on the counter.

“Would you like for me to get your back?” he asked, seemingly reading the angel’s thoughts. Aziraphale nodded, handing him the sponge and soap. Crowley sat on the edge of the tub and started to gently lather soap on Aziraphale’s back. The angel flinched at first, but Crowley’s gentle ministrations soon put him at ease.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale murmured.

“Stop it,” Crowley replied, placing a hand in the water. “The water’s starting to get cold.”

He snapped his fingers and almost instantly the water was the perfect temperature again. Aziraphale sighed, feeling a little more comfortable.

“I tried to use a miracle, but I’m afraid…I’m afraid I cannot perform miracles anymore,” Aziraphale admitted. He could feel shame creep up his back again.

Crowley’s hands stilled. “You can’t?”

Aziraphale shook his head. After a moment, the demon continued washing the angel’s battered back, gently pouring a little water down his skin to wash away the lather. Aziraphale closed his eyes. It felt nice to be clean again.

“It’s likely temporary. Your corporation probably needs all the energy it can get to repair the wounds you sustained,” Crowley stated.

“Or I’m dying,” Aziraphale murmured.

“Shut up,” Crowley growled. “You’re not dying. You’re being melodramatic.”

Aziraphale sighed softly. “Crowley.”

“We went without our miracle ability during that night in the 40s,” Crowley continued, ignoring the angel. “You performed an entire magic show without them.”

Despite how weak he felt, Aziraphale smiled. “That was a lovely night. We had dinner afterwards.”

“Yeah, angel. It was a good night,” Crowley replied, quietly. Aziraphale could hear the hint of sadness in the demon’s voice.

“I kept the picture, the one of us at the magic show,” Aziraphale admitted. “The one I palmed from…oh, what was his name? That demon who had the camera?”

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t know. Some demon hoping to make a name for himself.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, searching his muddled mind. “Furfur. That was it. According to Shax, he fancied you.”

“Oh? Jealous, angel?” Crowley teased, pausing. “Wait a minute. Shax? When did you talk to her about Furfur? In the bookshop?”

“No, on the way back from Scotland,” Aziraphale mumbled, feeling himself drifting. Crowley’s hands stilled and he shifted so that he was in front of his friend. There was a confused expression on his face.

“Scotland? You saw Shax on the way back from Scotland?” he asked, searching the angel’s face. Aziraphale felt tears prick his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I should have told you. I let her in the Bentley. I didn’t recognize her at first, not until she got in the car,” Aziraphale babbled. Crowley shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter, angel. I assume she was just after Gabriel,” he said as he started to get to his feet again. “She always was a nuisance. Can’t believe they gave her my flat. That was just insult to—”

“She said… she said you risked destruction for loving me,” Aziraphale sniffled. “I didn’t know you…oh Crowley, I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening. I had to do something. They were never going to stop.”

Aziraphale began to feel lightheaded as he kept babbling, trying to explain, his heartrate climbing with every word. His body felt like it was going to give out at any minute. The demon swiftly knelt next to the bathtub, shaking his head, and gently shushing the angel.

“Hey, Aziraphale, look at me. It’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m not going to be discorporated. I’m not going anywhere. We’re safe for the moment. The forces of Heaven and Hell are concerned with bigger matters,” Crowley quickly reassured him, laying a hand over his. “Take a deep breath, okay? In…and out. That’s it, good.”

Aziraphale took a shallow breath, his lungs struggling with even so simple a task. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Perhaps a week if he was lucky, more likely just a few days. He heard Crowley shift back behind him and he continued cleaning his sensitive back. His touch was so wonderful. Aziraphale swallowed, his head spinning.

“I had it tucked away in my desk. The picture, I mean. It probably burned—”

“I have it,” Crowley said flatly.

Aziraphale turned a little to look at the demon, who remained focused on his back. Crowley paused his ministrations, running the back of his hand over his brow.

“Muriel found it, after you left, and gave it to me,” he explained softly. Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Crowley,” he murmured, his heart aching with love for the demon. I have to tell him. I have to tell him I love him too.

The moment was ruined when a sudden pain knifed through the angel, and he cried his friend’s name.

Crowley instantly grabbed his hand, allowing Aziraphale to squeeze it. The demon pressed his brow against the angel’s temple, closing his eyes. Suddenly, the pain lessened a little, enough that Aziraphale could draw in a breath.

“I can still use my miracles,” Crowley reminded him. “We’ll figure this out, Aziraphale. I just need you to trust me.”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded, clinging to his friend. He could feel his hold on consciousness slipping. Crowley turned his attention back to the angel’s back. Aziraphale whimpered when the demon touched an area near where his wings used to be.

“Fuck. I think the wounds are infected,” Crowley grumbled. “The flesh around it is inflamed and warm to the touch. This doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t be possible. We’re not susceptible to infection and any damage usually heals up in no time. Even if it didn’t, I’ve been cleaning and dressing your wounds regularly. There should be some sign of healing.”

“Divine Retribution,” Aziraphale told him tiredly. “The Metatron can wield it when a situation requires it.”

“Oh for Hell’s sake,” Crowley cursed, frustrated. “That fucking bastard!”

“It’s alright, Crowley. You did what you could,” Aziraphale soothed as he felt his hold on consciousness slip. “I’m grateful.”

He offered Crowley a weak smile as his eyes slid shut. He thought he heard Crowley call his name, but lost consciousness before he could respond.

_*_

He was floating, surrounded by the comforting feeling of love. Aziraphale sighed and nestled closer to the warmth he was enveloped in. He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like ages, pain wasn’t consuming his every thought. It was a presence on the edge of his consciousness, but he pushed it away.

“Aziraphale? Are you awake?”

“Warm,” he mumbled, unable to think of any other response.

“Yeah, that’s the fever. It’s very high. I won’t lie to you, angel: you’re a right mess at the moment. But we’ll fix you up. You owe me multiple apology dances, remember?”

“Have I fallen?” Aziraphale murmured, nestling closer to the warmth he was enveloped in. He felt so groggy and wasn’t sure where he was. There was quiet for a moment.

“No, you haven’t fallen,” the voice replied calmly.

“I don’t want to fall. I don’t want to ascend either. I want to stay here,” Aziraphale said, tears welling in his eyes. “I-I just want to stay here. Please?”

There was quiet for another moment before that familiar voice, that beautiful familiar voice, replied, “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, Aziraphale. You can stay here, I promise. I won’t let anyone take you.”

If only it were that simple, Aziraphale thought as he sniffled. His mind was starting to clear and with it, the pain was starting to come back.

“Right, here we are.”

The angel felt himself being carefully lowered to another surface, this one warm and soft. He couldn’t help but smile a little. He really did like this, the feeling of comfort. Warm blankets were drawn up to his shoulder. Aziraphale tried to open his eyes, but they didn’t want to cooperate.

“You can’t save me, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, coughing and wincing in pain. He opened his eyes, looking at the demon who crouched down to better hear him. “The Metatron used Divine Retribution when he took my wings. There’s nothing more that can be done. Let us just enjoy what time we have left together.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl.

“So you’re just going to give up and let that sadistic bastard win? Forgive me for thinking you had a bit more fight in you,” Crowley said sharply. “I should have known. You chose the easy path once, obviously you will do so again.”

“Easy? You think my choosing to leave my bookshop, to leave you, and go to Heaven was easy?” Aziraphale asked incredulously. “Do you really think so little of me, Crowley?”

“You refuse to see the flaws of Heaven! Even when you have the opportunity to leave, you keep going back! I offered you a chance to be free of them and you threw it back in my face! You left! Yes, I think that was pretty damn easy!” Crowley got to his feet and started pacing around the room like a caged animal.

“I’m a principality! The world I swore to protect was in danger again! I asked you, begged you to come with me, to help me, and you refused! You turned your back on me!”

Crowley whirled on his heel, mouth dropping open and eyes widening.

“I turned my—!? I turned my back!?” he shouted in disbelief. “You wanted me to return to the place that cast me out for asking questions! I was sent to Hell for asking questions, Aziraphale! And you wanted me to return to that place?! Look what they did to you!”

“It was never about Heaven, Crowley! It was about this world! I cannot turn my back on Earth or the ones who call her home! The only way to keep this wonderful world, our home, safe was to accept the Metatron’s offer, so I could prevent its destruction.”

“The ones who call Earth home,” Crowley scoffed and shook his head.

“Which includes you!” Aziraphale snapped as he pushed himself partway up. That was a mistake. His badly injured wrist gave out instantly, pain shooting up his arm and making him lightheaded. The pull on the wounds on his back made him cry out as he slumped back, and his vision went white. For a moment, Aziraphale thought he was going to lose consciousness again.

“You idiot,” Crowley grumbled as he swiftly moved to the bed and maneuvered Aziraphale into a more comfortable position. He checked his bandages, feeling the bones in his wrist. He then checked the bandages on Aziraphale’s back. When he was done, he rose up and stormed over to the door.

“Why do you continue to help me? If you want nothing more to do with me, why do all this?” Aziraphale demanded, feeling warmth well up in his eyes. “What is the point, Crowley?”

Crowley spun around and yelled, “Because I don’t want you to die!”

Aziraphale flinched, blinking a few times. Crowley was glaring at him, his fists clenched at his sides, practically shaking.

He didn’t want Aziraphale to die. The angels had attempted to kill him, the ones who should have been his allies, who were supposed to be the good guys. It was a demon who didn’t want him to die, who was caring for him nonstop, who loved him.

The Archangels wanted him dead.

Crowley would move heaven and earth to save Aziraphale’s life. Crowley risked his very life to save and protect Aziraphale.

The angel’s head was spinning. He had always known Heaven had its flaws, and he accepted that Archangels were abusing their power, perhaps not intentionally. But now…Aziraphale was terrified to label Heaven a lost cause. He didn’t know what that meant.

There’s something to be said for shades of grey.

The demon sighed and rubbed his eyes, turning and moving to leave the room.

If he leaves, he won’t come back, Aziraphale thought, panicking.

“Please, don’t go,” Aziraphale murmured, hoping the demon heard him. “Please.”

Crowley paused, standing rigidly.

“Crowley, please?”

Aziraphale hated how much it sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t want to leave things the way they were. He was growing weaker by the day and even if Crowley couldn’t face reality, the angel couldn’t ignore it. He was scared. He didn’t want to die alone.

Crowley’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he turned, moving back to Aziraphale’s side. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed, gently resting a hand on the angel’s shoulder. He wouldn’t meet Aziraphale’s gaze, but he rubbed the angel’s shoulder gently with his thumb.

“I need to get some things from the Bentley,” he explained, his tone softer and calmer. “And I have to make dinner. I won’t go very far. I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.”

Aziraphale nodded as best he could, curling up more under the blankets. He trusted Crowley, as he always had. The demon had never let him down.

“Will you leave the door open?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Crowley replied. Then the demon stood up and exited the room, leaving the door open. Aziraphale felt tears spilling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was crying and was too tired to really think about it.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, not aware of much. Except for the sense of love that never wavered or left him. It was like an invisible lifeline, one the angel clung to. Soon, he could feel Crowley tending to his wounds with the gentleness Aziraphale had become accustomed to.

The gravely wounded angel found it was soothing to listen to his friend’s steps as Crowley moved about the room, putting things away. He loved how easily the demon moved.

It was becoming harder to breathe again, as though there was a heavy weight on his chest. The angel struggled to draw in breath, but he continued to fight. He wasn’t ready to go yet. He didn’t want to die. He couldn’t, not until he made things right with Crowley.

“Aziraphale?”

He felt arms slide under him and maneuver him into a more elevated position and just like that, breathing was a little easier. He could sense Crowley sitting behind him, using his chest to keep Aziraphale propped up, something he did when he was helping Aziraphale get nourishment.

“I have something for you,” the demon told him. “But first, I want you to try and get down some of this broth. I know it’s not the most exciting dish, but it will help you fight off the infection.”

Aziraphale nodded and felt a mug gently placed against his lips. He drank a little of the pleasantly warm broth. It wasn’t the most delicious thing he had ever consumed, but it did taste good. It felt nice going down his throat. He was only able to get down about half the mug, but Crowley didn’t protest. He placed the mug off to the side and propped Aziraphale up on the pillows.

“Can you open your eyes, angel? Just a bit?”

Aziraphale nodded, trying to open his eyes. He managed to get them part way open, and he looked at Crowley, who was sitting a little across from him. The demon was holding an old familiar photograph: the magic show they performed one night in the 40s. The angel’s eyes welled up with tears and he sniffled, smiling weakly.

“You do have it,” he murmured, so soft he wasn’t sure if Crowley heard him. He reached out, reverently touching the photograph. “Thank you.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “I’m going to put it right over here, by the lamp, so you can look at it whenever you like, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded, watching as Crowley placed the picture against the lamp. The angel smiled as he continued to look at the photograph, a memory of better times. It was one of his most cherished belongings. And once again, Crowley had returned it to him.

_*_

At some point, Aziraphale fell asleep again. When he next woke up, it was dark, and the pain was once again consuming his thoughts. He was shivering violently and started feeling nervous. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was and feared he was still in the cells in Heaven, awaiting further punishment.

Then he felt the protective arms holding him, heard the steady breathing behind him, felt the familiar love that enveloped him. Crowley.

Looking up, he saw the demon in question looking straight ahead, his gaze distant. Aziraphale was wrapped in a heavy blanket and Crowley was holding him in a slightly elevated position that made breathing easier. The angel wondered how often the demon slept. He knew how much Crowley enjoyed sleeping.

A particularly violent tremor tore through him, causing Aziraphale to wince and whimper in pain. Crowley was pulled out of his thoughts and looked to Aziraphale. His eyes were filled with worry as he studied his friend’s face.

“Hey there,” he said softly with a shaky smile. “Think you can drink a little more? You need to drink some water, angel.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, trying to sort through his muddled mind to come up with a response. He knew he was dying, and all this was pointless, but it would make Crowley happy. So the angel looked at his friend and nodded weakly. A look of relief crossed Crowley’s face as he adjusted his hold so he could reach over to the night table, retrieving a glass of water.

“We’ll go slow,” Crowley told him. Aziraphale looked at him, arching an eyebrow, and Crowley let out a huff of laughter at the look. He placed the clean smooth glass against Aziraphale’s lips, tilting it up slightly.

Aziraphale sipped the wonderfully cool liquid, which did feel heavenly going down his aching throat. He managed a few sips before his stomach started flipping. The angel turned his head away from the glass. He heard Crowley sigh and lean slightly as he put the glass back on the table.

“Coaster,” Aziraphale rasped.

“What?”

“Make sure you put the glass on a coaster. You don’t want to damage the wood.”

Crowley stared at him, his mouth partly open. “A coaster? That’s what you’re concerned about? That’s the most pressing matter?”

Aziraphale shrugged and instantly regretted it. The pull on the wounds was agonizing and he couldn’t prevent the soft cry that was torn from him.

“Dammit, Aziraphale,” Crowley grumbled, snapping his fingers. “There. The glass is on a coaster. The wood has been saved.”

“Th-thank you,” Aziraphale whimpered. He was shivering again, his entire body aching.

“Are you cold?”

The angel shook his head, nestling down more into the blankets, closer to his friend. He reached out and gently grasped Crowley’s arm, looking up at him with tired glassy eyes. The demon was looking at him, concerned. There was a hint of fear and Crowley’s protective grip tightened ever so slightly.

“D-d-don’t l-leave. Please?” the angel pleaded. The demon’s breath caught, and his eyes welled up, a tear rolling down his cheek. Visibly swallowing, Crowley shook his head.

“I won’t,” he promised. Aziraphale smiled a little, knowing the demon would not break his word. Crowley had never let him down. Aziraphale could trust him and always would.

The angel nestled closer to the demon, closing his eyes again and falling into an easy sleep. Just before he drifted off, Aziraphale thought he heard the faint sound of Crowley crying.

_*_

When Aziraphale next woke up, it was morning. He could faintly smell food cooking, which smelled delightful. His eyes traveled to the table beside the bed. The angel smiled weakly as he gazed at the photograph by the lamp. That had been a delightful evening. The first night I realized I was in love, Aziraphale thought as he closed his eyes again, falling back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: The Long Nights

“Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale jerked awake when he heard Crowley’s frantic voice, blinking a few times. He felt extremely groggy and slightly disoriented. Even though the shades were drawn, Aziraphale could tell it was day. He gripped Crowley’s wrists from where his hands were tightly grasping his shoulders. The intensity of his grip was adding to the pain the angel was in, but he was too concerned about Crowley to notice it. The demon sounded panicked. Crowley tended to be dramatic, but rarely did he panic.

The demon’s golden eyes were wide and swimming with tears. When he saw Aziraphale awake, he dropped his head to the angel’s chest, his fists balling in the loose nightshirt Aziraphale wore, letting out a shaky breath. The angel wasn’t certain, but it felt like Crowley might be trembling.

“Crowley? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, cautiously wrapping his arms around Crowley and holding him in a gentle embrace. “Are you alright?”

Crowley held him tightly and sniffled.

“You were…you were so still,” he muttered, sounding on the verge of tears. “I thought…”

“What?”

Crowley just shook his head, not responding. Taking another risk, Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s back, doing his best to comfort the demon. He could feel his friend’s heart hammering in his chest. Heavens, what had happened?

“Crowley?”

After a minute, Crowley drew in a deep breath and then he straightened up. The demon smiled shakily, swiping at his face with a shaking hand.

“Maggie just dropped off your books,” he told him, nodding to the side. Aziraphale looked to where he was indicating and felt his heart warm at the sight that greeted him.

There were his books, the big tomes he used to keep in the bookshop. He grinned when he saw labeled boxes all around the room. Aziraphale felt joy at seeing the large tomes he had collected throughout his time on Earth.

“My books,” he whispered happily. Crowley had no idea if he would ever see Aziraphale again, but he kept his books.

“I’m going to fix some lunch,” Crowley’s voice drew Aziraphale’s attention back to him. “If there’s anything in particular you want to read, let me know. I’ll sort through the boxes and find it for you.”

“I should like to read Shakespeare,” Aziraphale said softly, already feeling sleep dragging him down again.

When he next awoke, Crowley had brought lunch on a tray. He carefully helped Aziraphale into a sitting position, arranging the pillows behind him. Aziraphale loved the gentle touch and care. He picked at the food, eating what little he could.

Once he finished eating, Crowley took the tray away and then started sorting through the still unopened boxes. Aziraphale told him it didn’t matter what Shakespeare, but if he happened across The Tempest, he hadn’t read that in a while.

Crowley dug through three boxes before finding a copy of the play, which he brought to Aziraphale. He looked adorably triumphant, though also tired. He handed the book to Aziraphale, who thanked him as he took it. Crowley grunted as he sat beside the angel, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. Aziraphale turned his attention to the play, smiling a little. He had missed reading.

Try as he might, Aziraphale found he was unable to hold the book and turn the pages. His hands refused to grasp the book and the words blurred whenever he tried to focus on the page. After a few attempts, the angel sighed softly and closed his eyes. Apparently, he wouldn’t even be able to revisit his favorite books in his last days. Yet another thing the Metatron had taken from him.

Before Aziraphale could despair, the book was gently taken out of his hands, and he heard Crowley clear his throat. Then the demon started reading out loud. Aziraphale looked up at him, smiling softly, grateful. Crowley continued to read. The angel laid back, leaning slightly against Crowley’s shoulder, listening to his friend’s voice. He soon drifted off to sleep.

_*_

Aziraphale slowly woke up and immediately was consumed in agony. For a moment, he thought he was back in Heaven and panicked, his heart hammering in his chest. Then he noticed all the books piled around the room, books he recognized. His books. The angel smiled weakly, comforted by the sight. He slowly let out a shaky breath, grimacing. It was going to be another bad night.

Despite the pain he was in, Aziraphale could feel the overwhelming love in the room. Nothing like the cold sterility of Heaven. And it was dark, mercifully dark. Aziraphale slowly let out his breath, focusing on everything he could see and feel. He was in the large bed, propped up slightly with a mound of pillows. He could feel the softness of the blanket beneath his fingers. A gentle breeze floated through the partially opened window. Somewhere outside, a bird sang.

The angel was as comfortable as he could be.

Looking to the side, Aziraphale smiled even more. Crowley was lying on his stomach, sleeping peacefully. He had been caring for the angel nonstop, doing whatever he could to make sure his friend was comfortable, and Aziraphale worried he was neglecting himself. Aziraphale wasn’t often awake, but when he was, the demon was always right there, taking care of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the demon sleep. Crowley was determined to fight until the bitter end.

“Oh, Crowley. I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered. There was so much he had to apologize for, but he doubted Crowley wanted to hear it. He had wounded the demon deeply, in a way that he wasn’t sure Crowley could ever forgive. Aziraphale wanted to write him a letter, explaining everything and declaring he did love Crowley, but he couldn’t stay awake long enough.

He was too weak to even hold a damn book.

Looking to the window, Aziraphale looked up at the beautiful clear night sky. It was an all too rare calm night. No meteors or tempests. Just a sky full of stars. Aziraphale smiled faintly as he watched them, picking out all the constellations Crowley had taught him ages ago. Suddenly, a star shot across the dark sky.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, knowing his friend would be delighted to witness such a thing. Immediately the demon shot up, instantly awake and alert. One hand rested on Aziraphale’s chest while he held his other out in front of him, his wide yellow eyes darted around the room, searching for any kind of threat.

“What!? What is it? Are you alright?” Crowley shouted. His entire body was rigid.

Aziraphale smiled sheepishly. “I…I just…it’s a beautiful night tonight. I thought you would like to see the stars.”

Crowley lowered his arm and stared at the angel as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”

“The stars,” Aziraphale repeated, nodding towards the windows. “You can see them so clearly. The moon too. It’s quite extraordinary.”

The tension gradually left the demon’s body as he flopped back down on the bed, running his hands over his face.

“Fucking hell, Aziraphale, you’re going to be the death of me,” Crowley groaned. “I thought…never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale apologized, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean to scare you or disturb your rest.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re okay. That’s all that matters,” Crowley mumbled, looking over to the angel. “Since I’m awake, is there anything you need?”

Aziraphale looked past him, toward the window again. Crowley followed his gaze.

“There was a shooting star earlier,” Aziraphale mentioned. “Oh, Crowley, look! There’s another one!”

A small smile danced across the demon’s lips, which had become an all too rare sight in recent days. The light of the stars danced in his yellow eyes. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart. For a moment, he saw his friend as he had been before their parting, before they spoke those hurtful words. Before everything had fallen apart.

He saw simply a demon who loved. A demon who I love, who I will always love.

“Crowley?”

The demon looked back to the angel. Aziraphale suddenly couldn’t think of what to say. There was so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. He cursed how muddled his mind was. The fever was still sapping his strength. Aziraphale could feel sleep tugging at him and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer.

“‘S alright, angel,” Crowley said softly, seemingly reading his thoughts. “Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, unable to fight sleep any longer. He felt Crowley inch closer and gently put an arm around him.

“Crowley, you should enjoy the stars,” Aziraphale told him. “Whenever you wish to. I want you to take some time for yourself. Please?”

“Alright, angel,” Crowley replied, obviously already half-asleep again.

Aziraphale turned a little more towards him, sighing softly. He never appreciated how safe Crowley made him feel. Even now, when he was at his most vulnerable, the angel felt safe. And the feeling of love had not dimmed, not even a little.

A few hours later, Aziraphale awoke again, still in pain. His fever was high, and it made him miserable. He looked over to the side, where Crowley was asleep. At some point during the night, he had changed his position and was now lying on his back. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Aziraphale reached over, ignoring the ache that raced through him from the pull on his wounds, and carefully pulled the blankets up on Crowley, keeping out the early morning chill.

Aziraphale could hear the gentle chirping of the birds outside and smiled when he spotted a few sparrows on the sill. The angel felt his time was growing short. He was growing weaker every day, but he was strangely unafraid. Aziraphale had been terrified in Heaven, but here, in this little cottage with Crowley, he just felt comfortable. He felt loved.

This place felt like home. The home he had always hoped he and Crowley would settle down in eventually.

Of course, it is at the end of my existence that I find paradise. What a cruel kindness, Aziraphale thought mournfully.

Reaching over, Aziraphale gently ran a hand over the demon’s red hair. Crowley mumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake up. He would soon, and then prepare a simple breakfast for Aziraphale. He would clean and dress the angel’s wounds. Then he would likely read to him (and make some snarky comments about whatever he read to Aziraphale).

The times they had shared, the adventures they had gone on, Aziraphale wouldn’t trade them for anything. The time he spent with Crowley had been the best times of his life. Aziraphale wished they could have had more. There was so much he wanted to tell the demon, but feared he didn’t have enough time.

“I love you,” he whispered to the sleeping demon. “I always have. I always will.”

_*_

The nights were the worst, as the angel and demon would swiftly learn. The days weren’t easy, but something about the nights was always a struggle. It seemed when the sun set, that was when the angel would feel despair creeping up on him.

Aziraphale could feel himself slipping away. He could not even sit up without Crowley’s help. It was difficult to breathe, and he couldn’t keep much down. His fever was higher than it had been, he could tell by Crowley’s concerned expression every time he checked it. He was too weak to do anything other than feel pain. His body was failing him, and it wouldn’t be long now.

The angel watched as the demon wrung out another soft towel and placed it on his brow. He next picked up another towel and gently wiped Aziraphale’s mouth clean. The angel had just been sick a few minutes earlier. The demon held him as he retched into a bucket, assuring he would not fall off the bed. Once he finished, Crowly helped him lay back in a comfortable position. When he finished cleaning Aziraphale up, Crowley picked up the bucket and stood from the bed.

“I will be back shortly, angel,” he spoke softly in a tired voice. Aziraphale watched him leave before turning his eyes back up to the ceiling. Crowley wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But Aziraphale’s time was short. He needed to tell Crowley so many things, but he didn’t have the time. For the past few days, the angel had been trying to figure out something he could give Crowley, one last kindness he could bestow upon his friend, one good memory to help Crowley endure the grief he would undoubtedly experience once Aziraphale passed away. The angel could not leave his friend in despair.

When Crowley returned, Aziraphale watched as he climbed up on the bed, taking up his usual spot. He looked at the angel and smiled. Aziraphale’s heart ached to see those gorgeous yellow eyes. How beautiful they were. They had always reminded Aziraphale of the sun.

“What would you like me to read tonight?” Crowley asked gently. Aziraphale, using what little strength he had, laid a shaking hand over Crowley’s.

“Crowley, take me to Alpha Centauri,” he requested.

“I will, when you have recovered,” Crowley promised and Aziraphale shook his head.

“I’m not going to recover. Please? Take me tonight.”

“No. You won’t survive the journey,” Crowley said, pulling his hand away from Aziraphale’s. There was an edge to his tone, a warning to stop. Normally, Aziraphale would respect it, but he couldn’t this time. He wanted to give Crowley the chance to say goodbye.

“We must face reality, Crowley. I don’t have long. A few more days at most. Please, let me do this one last thing for you. You have always wanted to show me. We can leave, right now.”

“Stop!” Crowley snapped. “You chose Heaven over me once and now you’re going to do it again! You are cruel, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale’s eyes teared up. “I-I don’t know…I didn’t…”

“I don’t want my lasting memory of Alpha Centauri to be the place where my only friend died. I don’t want it to be a place of grief,” Crowley told him, his tone softening. He slumped back, suddenly seeming very tired. It was the first time Aziraphale had ever seen Crowley look completely defeated. It hurt his heart.

The angel looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He would not push his friend to do anything or go anywhere, not if he wasn’t ready. But Aziraphale had to do something for Crowley, some kindness as thanks for all the demon did. Some small gesture to express the love he felt for Crowley. He wanted to do something to make Crowley feel at least a little happy, give him some measure of respite. Aziraphale’s eyes fell on a pile of books, and he smiled faintly.

“Crowley?”

“What is it, Aziraphale?” Crowley replied, weariness seeping into every word.

“Will you read to me tonight?”

Crowley sighed and straightened up. “Of course, angel. What would you like me to read?”

“One of Shakespeare’s plays. One of the comedies, Much Ado About Nothing,” Aziraphale requested, looking over at the demon. Crowley furrowed his brow, staring at him.

“Really?” he asked, confused. Aziraphale nodded, smiling shakily.

“I find I’m in the mood for more lighthearted fare tonight,” Aziraphale told him. “I believe it’s over there in the stack by the wardrobe.”

Crowley looked at him suspiciously. Then, he easily rose to his feet and moved over to the stack of books, running his fingers down the spines until he found the one he was looking for. He pushed the ones on top of it off (making Aziraphale cringe) and brought it back to the bed, resuming his usual spot. Aziraphale snuggled up to him, watching as he opened it to the first page. The angel closed his eyes, listening to the demon’s soft voice recite the lines of the play.

_*_

The next morning, as the sun rose, Aziraphale was looking at the ceiling. Crowley was curled around him, sleeping peacefully. For the first time since the demon had found him, Aziraphale felt a little better. He was still in a lot of pain and his fever was still high, indicating he wasn’t out of the woods. But he felt like perhaps today might be a little easier.

The angel turned his head, studying the demon. There were tear streaks on Crowley’s face, as there had been almost every day that week. Aziraphale gently brushed his cheek, his heart aching. Crowley inched somehow closer, clutching the angel tighter, but didn’t wake up. He must have been fighting all night to keep the angel alive, as he had every night since finding him. Heavens, how exhausted he must be.

Unlike most angels, Aziraphale had never believed demons were incapable of love. He’d been around Crowley long enough to know it wasn’t true. But sometimes he didn’t think about just how much Crowley loved him. They had been friends for so long that there were some things Aziraphale took for granted.

The angel had always believed that casting Crowley out from Heaven had been an error. He tried not to focus on it, questions of any sort were frowned upon in Heaven, but it often wormed itself into his mind. When the Metatron offered to restore Crowley, Aziraphale had leapt at the chance. He had his own motives and intentions, but he also believed he could finally right a wrong, he could right what Heaven got wrong so many years ago.

Without speaking to Crowley. Without talking to him about what he wanted.

Aziraphale was starting to understand why Crowley was so upset, why he felt betrayed. The angel was starting to realize just how much he had hurt his friend. He had been so focused on saving Earth and the humans, something he knew Crowley wanted as well, that he hadn’t paused to consider how his offer might come off. I have made a complete mess of things, Aziraphale thought, tears starting to creep down his face.

He just wished he knew how to make amends.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale blinked a few times, looking away. He felt Crowley gently brush away the tears that were falling down his face.

“What’s the matter? Where does it hurt?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something. To apologize or to tell Crowley how much he cared about him. How much he loved him, no matter what he was. Anything.

But anything he could think of seemed terribly insufficient. So, the angel closed his mouth again and shook his head, attempting to feebly smile at the demon.

“No, nowhere in particular. I’m alright,” Aziraphale said, his voice still hoarse. Crowley studied him for a moment. He felt Aziraphale’s brow, making a “hm” noise.

“You’re very pale, but you don’t feel as warm. Hopefully your fever is breaking,” Crowley lied, as he started to push himself up. “I’ll try making crepes again. I know what went wrong the last time.”

“You left a towel too close to one of the burners and nearly set the kitchen ablaze,” Aziraphale teased him. Crowley gave him a sarcastic smile.

“Like I said. I know what went wrong,” the demon replied. “Do you want crepes or not?”

“Yes, but could we…could we sleep a little longer?” Aziraphale asked. “The pain isn’t as terrible as it has been the past few days. I am quite comfortable and would like to rest a little longer.”

Crowley furrowed his brow a little, but nodded and laid back down again, wrapping his arm back around the angel, holding him close. Aziraphale relished the feeling of comfort and warmth, closing his eyes, falling back into an easy sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: The Demon’s Devotion

Aziraphale jerked awake in the middle of the night, his stomach lurching. He leaned over the edge of the bed, vomiting whatever was in his stomach into the empty bucket on his side of the bed. For the past few days, Aziraphale hadn’t been able to keep anything down, not even broth. His arms shook and he was certain he was going to fall out of the bed onto the unforgiving ground. His entire body shuddered at the thought of how much that was going to hurt.

A warm arm snaked around his torso, steadying him.

“Okay, angel. It’s okay, get it all out,” Crowley’s soothing voice came from beside his ear. “I’ve got you.”

It felt like he retched for hours, but eventually, the nausea subsided. Aziraphale slumped back in Crowley’s arms, wheezing for breath. The demon guided him to lay on his side and rose from the bed, switching on the lamps with a snap of his fingers. The large room was bathed in a warm glow. Crowley picked up the bucket on Aziraphale’s side of the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” Crowley told him as he stepped out of the bedroom. Aziraphale saw the light in the hall switch on and soon heard running water. He felt so groggy and hot, and it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath as he panted for air. His body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to. The dying angel’s gaze drifted over to the picture on the night table. A weak smile danced across his lips as he thought about that night in the 40s.

Aziraphale glanced at the windows when he heard rustling. Crowley kept the windows partly open, allowing in fresh air. At night, it felt positively heavenly. The songs of the nightbirds were lovely and often allowed the angel to focus on something other than the constant pain he was in. He could not walk or even stand up on his own, relying heavily on the demon, who was always right beside him, providing whatever the angel needed.

Eventually, Crowley re-entered the room with a bucket of sweet-smelling water and some towels. He knelt beside Aziraphale’s side of the bed and began to clean the angel’s face, as he had been doing all week. He gently wiped around Aziraphale’s mouth with one towel. When he finished, he started working on the rest of his face with a clean towel. The towel smelled heavenly, like newly blooming lilacs in the spring. I’m going to miss seeing blossoms in the spring, Aziraphale thought mournfully.

“We need to find something that agrees with your stomach, angel. You don’t want to waste away,” Crowley said with a shaky smile as he continued cleaning his friend up.

Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes. Sometimes the sense of love from the demon was so powerful it almost hurt.

Crowley paused when he noticed the tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. He swallowed, obviously unsure what to do or say. Hesitantly, he ran his hand over Aziraphale’s hair, and the angel closed his eyes, relishing the kind gesture.

“Are you feeling better? Would you like some water or tea?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale felt a tear crawl down his cheek.

“Why do you do this? After everything?” Aziraphale rasped. Crowley frowned as he continued stroking his hair.

“Because…you’re my friend,” Crowley said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You would do the same, if our positions were reversed.”

That he sounded faintly unsure broke the angel’s heart. He really had hurt the demon, perhaps worse than anyone ever had. Crowley’s trust was not freely given, but he had trusted Aziraphale. He had been vulnerable with the angel in a way that perhaps he never had been with anyone else.

Aziraphale knew Crowley felt rejected when the angel went to Heaven. They had both been incredibly clumsy with their words, Aziraphale more so, and unintentionally hurt each other. And now. Now Aziraphale didn’t have enough time to make amends for that, to earn back his friend’s trust. But he had to at least try. He had to at least try to heal whatever wounds he had caused.

“I would,” Aziraphale whispered. He reached out and touched Crowley’s hand. The demon flinched and looked down. “I would lay down my life if it meant yours would be spared.”

Crowley looked back at him. Then he cleared his throat and refocused on cleaning Aziraphale up, gently pulling his hand away. The angel felt warmth invade his eyes, his heart hurting. Crowley let Aziraphale cling to him after a nightmare, let him hold his hand when the pain was too much, and allowed him to lean on him when he needed help getting up and moving.

But other than that, the demon pulled away whenever the angel reached out.

Why was he fighting so hard to save him? Surely he must realize it was pointless. No angel could survive their wings being cut off, especially not so crudely, and the Metatron had wielded Divine Retribution against the angel to ensure Aziraphale didn’t survive his wounds. Aziraphale was dying.

Why did Crowley continue to fight when there was no hope?

Because he loves me.

Crowley finished cleaning him up and took the bucket out of the room. When he returned after a few minutes, he placed a newly cleaned empty bucket by Aziraphale’s side of the bed. Then the demon stretched out in bed next to Aziraphale, holding him close, as he did every night. He shut off the light with a snap of his fingers.

“I’m here if you need anything,” Crowley mumbled, pulling the covers up on them. “Sleep well, angel. Things will be better in the morning.”

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think…was I good angel?” Aziraphale asked, looking over at the demon. Crowley opened his eyes and furrowed his brow.

“Of course you’re a good angel. The hell kind of question is that?”

Aziraphale blinked back tears and looked up to the ceiling. The light switched back on, illuminating Crowley’s weary face.

“Aziraphale, you are a good angel. Better than any of the wankers in Heaven, certainly better than the Metatron. You’ve done more good here on Earth than they have done in their entire existence.”

The angel couldn’t meet the demon’s gaze, sniffling. He felt so helpless and ashamed. Everything was a complete mess, and he couldn’t fix it. He had broken so many vows and failed to do so many things he had sworn to do. He was a principality, and he hadn’t even been able to fulfill his most basic duty: to protect.

“Is this about what happened in Heaven?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale swallowed, tears crawling down his cheeks. He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, swiping his tears away. He grimaced at the pain that flared up even at so simple a movement. The demon was quiet for a moment and Aziraphale could feel him looking at him.

“Angel, I don’t know exactly what happened, but none of it was your fault. What the Metatron did…it was barbaric and cruel. Nothing you did could have ever warranted what he did to you. You have done so much good on this planet, you love humans, God’s favored creations. You protect those who can’t protect themselves. You are loyal and hopeful and selfless and kind, and the Archangels had no right to harm you.”

I hurt you though. Angels should never hurt anyone, Aziraphale thought, swallowing thickly. He nodded and slowly let out his breath, offering the demon a shaky smile. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the light went out again. He gently held the wounded angel.

“Wake me if you need anything,” he murmured as he settled under the covers. Aziraphale turned his face slightly toward the demon. His breath soon evened out. Crowley was the very picture of relaxed. Aziraphale coughed and agony knifed through him. Crowley inhaled, adjusting his hold slightly. The angel closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come easily.

He stood in a field of slaughtered angels, demons, and humans, the aftermath of a great battle. Aziraphale could smell the stench of blood that hung thick in the air, and it turned his stomach. But that wasn’t what held his focus.

Love. He could no longer feel love.

He could no longer feel Crowley.

Crowley was among the bodies, but Aziraphale couldn’t find him. There were too many. His love was among them. His love was lost to him. Tears streamed down his face, and he shouted Crowley’s name again and again, begging him to respond. He searched frantically, desperately hoping to find some flicker of that sense of love that was so uniquely Crowley.

The love that made Earth home, that comforted him even in his darkest hours.

But there was nothing.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried as he woke up, searching frantically in the darkness. Next to him, a shadowy form shot up.

“What!? What is it? What happened?” Crowley shouted anxiously, looking around for whatever had upset the angel. Aziraphale was weeping, the images from the nightmare still vivid in his mind. It was horrifying and it felt so real. He was in so much pain, but all he could think about was the field of death. What if it had been a vision?

The bedside lamp switched on and he could feel Crowley’s gaze on him.

“Aziraphale? What’s the matter?” he asked, sounding a little calmer. Aziraphale’s heart was pounding, and he couldn’t stop crying. He had a splitting headache, but he wasn’t thinking of that. The images from the horrible nightmare were still vivid in his mind.

A gentle hand rested on his brow and then on the side of his face.

“This damn fever won’t break. You’re still burning up,” Crowley muttered. “Hey, hey, angel. It’s okay. Look at me. You’re safe, Aziraphale, I promise. Breathe. That’s it.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s night shirt, gripping it weakly. His vision was blurry with tears, but he could make out the flame-colored hair of his friend.

“You were…you were gone. You died in the final war, and I was all alone. I couldn’t find you, Crowley. I couldn’t help you.”

He let out a cry, his entire body shivering. The pain in his back was excruciating, almost as bad as when his wings were being severed. Tears continued spilling down his cheeks and he felt ridiculous. He had experienced a few bad dreams in the past. He knew they were nothing to worry about, silly images dreamed up by tired minds.

But Aziraphale knew what was coming. He wouldn’t be around to protect humanity with Crowley. And after he passed, Crowley would likely be grieving. What if it distracted him?

Aziraphale should not have returned to Earth. He should not have let Crowley find him. Please, God. Please, protect him in my absence.

He could feel the demon’s arms wrapped around him and Crowley started rocking slowly as he held his weeping friend. Aziraphale turned, burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream, angel,” Crowley murmured.

“Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave,” Aziraphale wept.

“I won’t,” Crowley promised him. “Hey, hey, breathe, Aziraphale.”

“It hurts. It hurts so much,” Aziraphale whimpered, letting out a cry of pain. “Please, make it stop. Crowley, please.”

His head was spinning as pain overwhelmed all his senses. His entire body was shaking violently, and he could barely breathe. He sent a prayer to Heaven for any angel who had ever had to experience their wings being severed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he had made it this long.

“Shh, shh, I know. I know it hurts. I’m alleviating what I can, Aziraphale. The damn Divine Retribution is making it difficult. It’s blocking my miracles,” Crowley told him calmly, a hint of anger in his voice. Aziraphale sniffled and looked up at him.

“Why do I have to go? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you,” he babbled deliriously. He was wheezing as he tried to draw in breath. Crowley swallowed, tears welling in his eyes. He cleared his throat and shook his head, carefully hugging Aziraphale closer.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. Keep fighting, Aziraphale. You can stay, but you have to keep fighting.”

“I can’t. I’m too weak.”

“You’re not. You’re anything but weak, my friend. I don’t know anyone else who could survive an execution and make their way back to Earth. I certainly couldn’t,” Crowley said, holding him against his chest so he could breathe a little easier. “After I fell, it was almost a week before I could even move again. You somehow transported yourself back to Earth and then managed to get into your bookshop. And then you held on long enough for me to find you. I daresay you’re one of the strongest angels there has ever been.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly, but it turned into a grimace of pain.

“I’m so cold,” Aziraphale mumbled. He felt Crowley tug the covers up even more, bundling the angel up.

“Lucky for you, your friend is a demon from Hell. We’re naturally hot,” Crowley told him.

Aziraphale held him tighter and to his relief, Crowley did not protest or pull away. He was right: Crowley had always been naturally warm. His warmth helped keep away the worst of the unnatural chill. Aziraphale sighed, still trembling, trying to push the disturbing images out of his mind.

It wasn’t long before the demon fell asleep again, holding onto the angel. The lamp was still on. Aziraphale had his arms around Crowley, tears crawling down his face. He closed his eyes, feeling safe in Crowley’s arms. His entire body was shivering violently.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered weakly, hoping the demon heard him. He repeated those words every night, just in case he didn’t wake up again. He hoped one day Crowley would believe them.

_*_

“Crowley, may I ask you a bit of a strange question?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly.

“Stranger than whether or not I’m still a demon?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle at the response.

They were sitting in Aziraphale’s room at the inn in Rome. Both were a little tipsy from the amount of good wine they had consumed. Lunch had been delicious. Crowley loved the oysters. Once they finished, they wandered about, enjoying the sights. Crowley bemoaned the hedonism of the emperors. He was sick of the constant debaucheries and Caligula was a right cunt.

“Ask away angel,” Crowley added with a sweeping gesture, nearly spilling the rest of his wine.

“Well, I don’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re still wearing your glasses. I was wondering if you were experiencing any discomfort,” Aziraphale said carefully. He hated to broach the topic, but the angel worried his companion, dare he say his friend, was experiencing some sort of physical discomfort. As an angel and a principality, he was compelled to make sure he provided comfort and relief to those who were hurting.

Crowley furrowed his brow. “No, I’m fine. I always wear these.”

“But why?”

“Aziraphale, you know what my eyes look like.”

“Yes, they’re beautiful,” Aziraphale responded, the wine making his tongue looser than it would normally be. Crowley’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“You’re drunk, angel,” Crowley replied.

“I am not. I’m a little tipsy, but I’m not drunk.”

Crowley looked down at his wine, swirling it a little in the cup, a bittersweet smile dancing across his face. “My eyes are serpentine. It’s very unnerving to humans, makes ‘em run off screaming. Kind of hard to blend in with ‘em when they’re terrified.”

Aziraphale rose to his feet and moved over to the bed, where Crowley was sitting. The demon watched him, suddenly seeming a little uncomfortable. The angel sat beside his friend, smiling warmly.

“May I?” he asked. Crowley swallowed, nodding his consent. Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s glasses off, smiling at his beautiful golden eyes.

“There they are,” he said softly. “I have missed your eyes.”

Crowley smirked. “You’re very peculiar, angel. I mean that in a good way.”

Aziraphale chuckled, placing the glasses off to the side. “You never have to conceal your eyes around me, Crowley. It is your decision, obviously, but I do like them.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Crowley said, putting his empty glass off to the side. “You should get out of Rome, we both should. This Caligula is a lunatic and he’s not going to meet a good end. You know the kind of pandemonium that happens when an emperor dies, particularly when they die by violent means.”

“I do, unfortunately,” Aziraphale said, grimacing. “I have finished my business here. I thought I might wander the countryside for a bit. What about you?”

“I was supposed to tempt another senator, but I passed that off to Hastur, was going to leave tonight,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale tugged at his fingers.

“I don’t suppose you would consider traveling with me for a bit,” he started hesitantly. “Our meetings are always so brief, feels like we never have much of a chance to talk.”

“What do you call this?”

Aziraphale gave him an irritated look, to which he just smirked. Being friends with a demon was sometimes maddening, but the angel didn’t mind. He wouldn’t trade Crowley’s company for anything.

The demon in question flopped back on the angel’s bed. “I suppose I could travel for a bit. But won’t Heaven be a little cross with you? Consorting with a demon?”

“Part of my assignment is to keep an eye on you,” Aziraphale told him, shrugging. “Traveling together for a short time will make that significantly easier.”

Crowley snorted. “Angel, you are surprisingly good at finding loopholes.”

“Perhaps it is your influence,” Aziraphale countered with a gentle smile. “So, you will travel with me?”

“Sure, for a bit,” the demon agreed with a shrug. “Not tonight though. Haven’t slept in ages. Goddamn Romans and their carrying on. Do you mind if I sleep here? Once our assignment is finished, Hell no longer gives us a place to stay.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said as he stood up, picking up the few scrolls he had tossed onto the blankets before leaving for lunch. “The bed is quite comfortable. I don’t sleep but I have been lounging on it while I read scrolls.”

Crowley swung his long legs up onto the bed. “You should try sleeping some time. It’s delightful.”

Aziraphale smiled as he turned and started putting the scrolls onto nearby shelves.

“Your eyes are blue.”

Aziraphale frowned and twisted back to look at his friend, who was watching him with half-lidded eyes. A small sly smirk dancing across his lips.

“Yes, they are,” the angel agreed, feeling a little self-conscious. Of the many things that set him apart from other angels were Aziraphale’s eyes. They had always been blue rather than the more common violet of most other angels.

“I like them. Blue’s always been my favorite color,” Crowley slurred, obviously half-asleep. Aziraphale grinned, suddenly feeling rather bashful. His heart fluttered and he felt color rise in his cheeks.

He turned his attention back to the shelves, admiring them for a moment. The angel had organized his few scrolls meticulously. Retrieving a spare blanket from a chair, the angel approached the bed and draped it over his now sleeping friend, tucking in the edges. The nights did get terribly cold, and he imagined it was dreadfully uncomfortable for someone used to warmer climes.

“Sleep well, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, hoping the demon had pleasant dreams.

Then the angel went to the modest desk and picked up the scroll he had been reading earlier that morning. His heart was fluttering, and he found he was looking forward to traveling with Crowley, even if it wouldn’t be for very long. He had never traveled with a companion before.

After that encounter, Crowley began to take off his glasses whenever he was with Aziraphale. Every time he saw those golden eyes, Aziraphale would smile a little. Crowley did have the most beautiful eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Understanding

The days blurred together. Aziraphale continued to decline. His time was growing short, but he could not give in without explaining everything to Crowley. He had to let the demon know that he returned his feelings. We wasted so much time, the angel thought mournfully.

Whenever he tried to reach out, Crowley would pull away. Whenever Aziraphale attempted to broach the topic, Crowley would brush him off. It was never cruel or violent, and the sense of love never wavered. It hurt, nonetheless. There was distance between them and it broke Aziraphale’s heart.

Still, Crowley didn’t leave his side. Even when the angel pushed a little too much or when he was frustrated, the demon stayed as he promised he would. There were times when his patience wore thin, when he became snappish, but Crowley stayed. He took care of the dying angel nonstop, without comment or complaint. His dedication was unwavering.

One morning, after a sleepless night, Aziraphale asked Crowley take him outside so he could watch the sun rise, knowing he likely would never experience such a beautiful sight again. Crowley, who also hadn’t slept the previous night since he had been taking care of the angel, nodded, and lifted Aziraphale into his arms, bringing him out to the front yard. He let Aziraphale hold his hand, holding the angel against his chest. We would have been so happy here, the angel thought sadly. Once the sun had risen, Crowley brought the angel back inside, to bed. Before he fell back asleep, Aziraphale noticed the tears in Crowley’s beautiful gold eyes.

The rest of the day had been difficult. The angel coughed up blood all day and could barely stay awake. Crowley remained at his side, holding his hand as he weakly writhed in pain, cleaning him up when he was sick or coughed up blood, wiping away his tears when the pain overwhelmed him. He held Aziraphale against his chest so the angel could watch the sun set. It was the most beautiful sunset Aziraphale had ever experienced. The different shades of orange, purple, and pink colored the sky. He closed his eyes and sighed when he heard the beautiful songs of the nightbirds. It was the perfect night.

When the moon rose, Crowley was reading to Aziraphale, as had become part of the daily routine, the angel felt himself drifting. It was time.

Aziraphale decided to try explaining things one last time, knowing he would not get another chance. As Crowley continued to read, Aziraphale carefully figured out what words to use. He didn’t want a repeat of when he had departed for Heaven.

Crowley finished reading and looked at the copy of Hamlet he held. “The silly ones are better.”

He placed it off to the side and leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. Aziraphale finally decided on what to say but didn’t know how to start. He was nervous. This was the last chance he had to make amends, to hopefully heal the hurt he unintentionally inflicted.

“What do you say, angel? Shall we call it a night?”

“I hoped I would be able to make it worthy of you,” Aziraphale blurted out. It was a clumsy way to start, but it was a start. Crowley opened his eyes and looked at Aziraphale, confused.

“What?”

Aziraphale swallowed. He’d witnessed some of the most Earth-shattering moments over millennia and been unfazed. He had faced a death sentence without blinking. But in that moment, he was terrified. No going back. I have to do this. I have to explain everything and tell him how much I love him.

“I had hoped I could make Heaven worthy of you again. I remembered back when we first met, your delight with the stars, how utterly happy you were. And then, I remembered the graveyard in Edinburgh, when we helped that lovely young woman. When you were dragged back to hell, just for doing the right thing, just for…for being kind. You came back changed.”

Crowley swallowed and looked away, which made Aziraphale panic. If he left now, if he pulled away, Crowley would never know. He would never know how much he meant to Aziraphale. How much Aziraphale loved him. He would never know that Aziraphale reciprocated his feelings.

“I never wanted that to happen again. I didn’t know any other way to keep you safe.”

“I didn’t need you to—”

“I thought perhaps if we could make Heaven worthy of you again, you would be safe, and we could be together. We would never have to be separated again,” Aziraphale pressed on, relieved when Crowley looked back to him. “I made a horrible mistake, and I realized it shortly before I was sentenced. You were right, Crowley. We don’t need Hell or Heaven. Heaven will never be what I hoped it would. This world, it is our home.”

Crowley was staring at him, understanding starting to take over his expression. Tears welled up in his yellow eyes.

“Aziraphale, why did the Metatron take your wings?”

Aziraphale swallowed, feeling unease coil around him. He curled up closer to Crowley, closer to the feeling of love that had always kept him safe. He took a deep breath, preparing to recall what led up to the loss of his wings.

“I did…I did what I could to protect Earth while I was up there. When I realized nothing would dissuade the Metatron from his plan to bring about the second coming, I resorted to sabotage. I foiled every plan to bring about another Armageddon. When angels started being charged with treason and disappearing, I destroyed all the files Heaven had on us and on you, in particular. Then I confronted the Metatron. I told him I would not stand for what he was doing. I stood in front of him with a flaming sword and said I would cut him down if it meant saving humanity,” Aziraphale paused, glancing at Crowley. “He didn’t take it well. He shattered my sword with a wave of his hand. Bit of a pathetic last stand, I’m afraid. I didn’t stand a chance.

“He sent me away and I thought I would be banished to Earth. I was…I was looking forward to seeing you again and hoping I might make amends. I assumed we would thwart whatever plans the Metatron had together,” Aziraphale paused, shivering as a wave of pain went through him. “But as I was preparing to leave, the legions came and shackled me. I was brought before the Metatron for judgement and…well, you know the rest.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, tears spilling from his eyes. He was shocked to see tears running down Crowley’s cheeks. The angel wasn’t sure he had ever seen the demon cry. He tried to offer him a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“At least we’re finally together, at the end,” he said, pausing to cough, his entire body shuddering. “Thank you for bringing me here, Crowley. Thank you for staying.”

That was it. He had said what he needed to say, done what he needed to do. The angel patiently waited for Crowley’s response. He was undoubtedly still angry and hurt. He might storm out, slam the door behind him. Aziraphale might never see him again. Whatever he did, Aziraphale would understand and accept. He would still love Crowley. He would love him until he drew his last breath.

Aziraphale was not expecting Crowley’s reaction. The demon let out a sob and embraced the angel, gently but still firmly.

“You bloody stupid angel,” he wept. “You idiot. Why didn’t you come back once you realized how pear-shaped everything was? Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you.”

Aziraphale embraced him as tightly as he could, also crying. “I didn’t want to believe things were as bad as they were. I thought I could make him see reason. By the time I realized I couldn’t, it was too late.”

It felt good, speaking this aloud and finally being able to be open about all that had happened just before Aziraphale left for heaven. The chasm between them seemed to lessen significantly. Crowley was clinging to the angel as though he could keep him there through sheer will.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley shook his head, still crying. He wouldn’t let go of the angel. The angel comforted the weeping demon, relieved that he could finally hold him. He could not undo the hurt he had caused, but perhaps he had convinced him it hadn’t been his intention and maybe Crowley knew his apology was genuine. He didn’t know whether Crowley would ever forgive him, but at least Aziraphale had been able to apologize for hurting him. That was all that mattered.

Aziraphale kept his arms around Crowley after the demon fell into a light sleep on the angel’s chest. He felt his heart warm at the realization that the demon was comfortable falling asleep around him. Crowley trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him and Aziraphale was ashamed he had never appreciated that before.

Nobody had ever been gentle with Crowley, taken care of him, treated him with love. Both Heaven and Hell were cold and indifferent to their inhabitants. Aziraphale was starting to realize he was just as touch starved as his friend. It was difficult to admit, and even more difficult to accept, but Heaven could be just as cruel as Hell.

Aziraphale pulled the blankets up more on Crowley. The demon sighed in his sleep, clinging a little tighter to the angel. It made Aziraphale’s back ache, but he ignored it. Crowley needed to hold onto him and Aziraphale wasn’t going to deny him that. Truth be told, he still needed closeness, still needed to be touched. His dreams were haunted by his experiences in Heaven. The only reason he had been able to rest at all was because Crowley slept beside him, held him, and comforted him when he needed it.

Who took care of Crowley when he needed it? Who was there to comfort him?

Crowley who always did the right thing. Crowley who loved the world and had a soft spot for humans. The demon who loved, who radiated love. He deserved love as much as anyone else did. Heavens, did the angel love him. Aziraphale loved Crowley with all his heart and soul, more than he had ever loved anyone.

Aziraphale gently kissed Crowley’s red hair. He had to fight, had to try to survive this. He owed Crowley that much. The angel didn’t know if it was possible, but he was going to fight with everything in him.

Crowley inhaled deeply, his eyes opening. He blinked a few times and shifted off Aziraphale’s chest, but didn’t let go of his hand. The angel swallowed. If he was to die, there was one last thing he wanted to experience but hesitated to ask.

He looked at his friend, smiling faintly. Crowley was beautiful, always had been. In the soft light of the moon, he looked divine. A dark protector who radiated love. It was such a funny contradiction, one of the many things that made Crowley so unique. One of the many things Aziraphale loved about him.

“Crowley, I have a request, something that would mean a great deal to me, but I do not want you to feel obligated,” Aziraphale started. Crowley furrowed his brow, studying his friend’s face.

“Alright,” he said, caution coloring his tone. “What is it?”

Aziraphale toyed with the blanket, wincing at the pain that traveled up his back. “Will you…will you kiss me again?”

Crowley blinked a few times. His face was unreadable, and he turned his gaze toward the window. Aziraphale waited patiently, unable to do anything else. He wasn’t sure if he was asking too much of Crowley, but he had to at least ask. Aziraphale braced himself for Crowley to turn him down. The demon sighed and swiped the lingering tears from his cheeks, turning back to his friend.

He leaned over Aziraphale, holding him gently, and placed his lips on the angel’s. Aziraphale closed his eyes and sunk into the kiss. Unlike their previous kiss, this one did not feel like an act of desperation. This one was tender and loving. Aziraphale was able to savor Crowley’s lips and could taste his love as their kiss deepened. He was too weak to hold Crowley, but the demon positioned himself so the angel could at least rest his hand on Crowley’s back.

And yet…the kiss still wasn’t what the angel had hoped it would be. Aziraphale always dreamed that their first kiss would be joyful, two hearts joining together. In his dreams, they kissed outside on a beautiful spring afternoon, under the shade of a large tree. He wanted it to be happy, to smile against Crowley’s lips. Aziraphale wanted to be able to hold the demon against him.

Their first kiss had been frantic, a last-ditch effort, and tasted of despair.

And now this kiss, while loving, felt like and tasted of grief.

Aziraphale could taste the salt of Crowley’s tears, could feel the growing grief the demon was experiencing. Crowley could sense Aziraphale fading, even if he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Aziraphale could feel the demon’s heart breaking. And it hurt. Oh, did it hurt.

Yet, if this was to be their last kiss, their last declaration of love for each other, Aziraphale was satisfied with it. After all, one could not grieve without love.

Eventually, Crowley pulled back. He lay on his side next to Aziraphale, watching the angel, who smiled lovingly at him.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale murmured.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodbye,” Crowley warned. Aziraphale chuckled softly, but it turned into a coughing fit. He could taste the bitterness of blood in his mouth.

“I know,” he replied, slightly breathless.

Crowley reached over and wiped away the blood from Aziraphale’s lips. He had always been so attentive to the angel. The angel marveled at his friend’s dedication, at the depth of his love.

Aziraphale took a wheezing breath. Just in case…he needed to prepare Crowley, just in case. He looked at the demon again, weakly squeezing his hand.

“Crowley, you know there’s a chance I won’t survive this,” he began calmly.

“Hey, what have I said about dying talk? Stop it,” Crowley immediately cut him off. He would fight until the bitter end. Aziraphale wondered how he had gotten so lucky to befriend this amazing demon, to have shared so much of their lives together. If he had to go all the way back to the beginning, Aziraphale would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

He gently put a hand on Crowley’s cheek. A few more tears escaped Crowley’s eyes as he kept Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Oh Crowley, it’s okay. I’m grateful that I’m here with you. There’s nowhere else I would rather be,” Aziraphale told him, gently brushing away his tears with his thumb.

Crowley’s face crumpled and he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale again, sobbing.

“Please don’t leave. You can’t leave, Aziraphale. Not like this,” he begged, desperation bleeding into his voice for the first time. And the angel could hear the plea hidden in those words: Please don’t leave me again. It broke his heart.

Aziraphale held him as tightly as he could, gently rubbing his back and comforting him. He couldn’t give up. He had to keep fighting.

“I will try, Crowley,” he whispered to his friend. “I will try to stay. I promise.”

_*_

“How could you let this happen? Out of all the angels, why Aziraphale? How can you be this cruel to one who has always been loyal to you and loved you, who has always believed in you and done his duty without question, who only ever wanted to protect the ones you claim to care about the most?”

Aziraphale heard his friend’s voice but was too weak to fully wake. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He was drifting away; everything was fading into peaceful nothingness. The pain was a distant memory. The angel felt as though he were floating. The temptation to let go, to finally be at peace, was strong.

But Aziraphale was aware of something else.

He could feel Crowley holding his hand between his own and it was lovely.

“I know, I know, you don’t like being questioned. It was his choice, and I should have…I should have protected him better. I should have told him how ruthless the Archangels were. He never would have believed me or maybe he would have and chosen to go anyway, but I should have told him so he could have been more prepared. I tried, I really tried, but you should have stopped them. You could have interfered at any point, divine intervention or ordered them to stop. How could you just stand by and watch what they did to him, how they hurt him?”

The demon paused, likely gathering himself. He was breathing heavily and very obviously on the verge of tears.

“Please, do something. Help him, please. At least neutralize the effects of the Divine Retribution. I can do the rest, I can pull him through this, but I can’t do it on my own. I…I need help. It’s the least you can do,” Crowley continued, his voice shaking. Aziraphale could feel himself drifting and he felt at peace. It would be so easy to let go, to be free of the pain that tormented him.

But Crowley wouldn’t be there.

It wouldn’t be home without Crowley.

“I have not asked you for anything since I fell, because I know you never talk to anyone least of all demons, but I’m begging you now. Please, please, spare Aziraphale. Do not take him from me. I will do anything, just please. Have mercy this one time.”

Aziraphale’s heart was breaking listening to Crowley’s desperate pleas. He struggled to wake up. He needed to comfort Crowley, to hold him, to heal whatever was hurting him.

“Crowley?”

Through sheer force of will, Aziraphale managed to speak. He slowly urged his eyes open and managed a weak smile when he gazed upon Crowley’s beautiful face. The demon was kneeling at his bedside and using the heels of his hands to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his face. He attempted to smile, but couldn’t manage it.

“You’re…you’re crying,” Aziraphale murmured, concerned.

“No, I’m not,” Crowley muttered stubbornly even as he continued wiping tears away. Aziraphale wondered how close he had been that evening. He felt so much weaker than he could ever remember feeling. He was shivering again, feeling an unnatural chill. No, I will not give in. I will not leave him in despair.

“Do you need something, angel?” Crowley asked, sniffling. “Another blanket maybe? I could uh, make something or read you something. If you want to listen to music, I might be able to find a—”

“Crowley, come here,” Aziraphale whispered. “Come to bed.”

The demon swallowed and crawled back into bed, curling up next to Aziraphale in his usual space. The wounded angel turned to face him.

“May I hold you tonight?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded his consent. The angel wrapped his arms around the demon, the way he had wanted to for decades. It felt wonderful, as though Crowley had been made specially for him. It felt the same when Crowley held him.

The demon was crying softly, weeping tears he had undoubtedly kept bottled up for weeks. Aziraphale held him as tightly as he could, ignoring the ache in his back. The pain wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been, but that was likely due to how weak he was. Will I wake up tomorrow?

He could still feel the love that was part of Crowley, but he could also feel the despair that was creeping up on the demon. Aziraphale whispered words of comfort, but it seemed as though the demon couldn’t hear them.

“Crowley?” his voice was barely above a whisper. The demon looked at him. Crowley always heard him, and he always listened. Tears were still welling in those beautiful golden eyes, which were so expressive. The tear streaks on his cheeks glistened in the moonlight. Aziraphale considered what to say. Crowley didn’t like platitudes, which tended to bring out his bitter side.

But everyone needed hope. Crowley had never wanted forgiveness or empty reassurances, but he did need hope. Even if he balked at it. The few times Crowley had been snappish at him recently had been when Aziraphale spoke as though he was resigned to his fate.

That is how he has been able to fight for so long, even though it seems pointless. He has hope. I need to help him keep that alive.

“When I recover, can we dance again?” Aziraphale asked. “Our first was so wonderful and…it was so rudely interrupted.”

Crowley perked up a little, a sad smile dancing across his lips. He nodded.

“Of course, angel,” he responded. “That would be nice.”

Aziraphale smiled and held him closer, closing his eyes as sleep tugged at him. “There are…some dances I wish to teach you, if you were amenable.”

“Yeah, Aziraphale. We can do that,” Crowley replied, relaxing more into the angel’s arms.

“Let’s talk more in the morning. Over breakfast,” Aziraphale suggested. He felt Crowley snuggle up more against him, resting his head on the angel’s shoulder.

If this is how it is to end, then I am satisfied. I do not wish to die, but I am ready if that is what is to happen, the angel thought, feeling calm and at peace.

It was only when Aziraphale heard Crowley’s breathing even out that Aziraphale allowed himself to drift away from the waking world, still holding the demon he loved.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: The Pain of Separation

The fight to live was agonizing. But Aziraphale fought every single moment, refusing to give in. He was certain it was not yet his time. He was more exhausted and in pain than he had ever been before, but he kept fighting.

Crowley continued waiting on him hand and foot, seeing to his every need. He tended to Aziraphale’s wounds every day, changing the bandages and applying ointment to help with the pain and discomfort, cleaning him up when he was ill. He slept beside him every night, just in case Aziraphale needed something or if he couldn’t sleep. Crowley made broth and tea then more substantial meals when Aziraphale could finally keep down food again. The angel never realized what a good cook the demon was (occasional kitchen fire aside). Everything he made was delicious. Something as simple as toast with jam was a heavenly experience when the demon prepared it.

When Aziraphale’s fever finally broke, tears of joy filled Crowley’s eyes. He slumped as though a huge weight had suddenly been taken off his shoulders, burying his face in his hands. Aziraphale couldn’t help but grin, pleased to see the demon so happy. He gently put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. The demon looked over at him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, embracing him tightly while being careful of the healing wounds on his back. The demon cradled the back of the angel’s head and let out a shuddering breath.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Aziraphale. Do you hear me?” Crowley whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking with emotion.

Aziraphale smiled, briefly burying his face in Crowley’s shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing in his scent. “I shall endeavor not to. Thank you, Crowley.”

He started feeling a little better after that. His back ached fiercely, and he slept quite a lot, but he could hold a book on his own again. Crowley brought him a coin he used to practice sleight of hand. Soon, the angel could walk short distances, bathe, and stand for short periods of time on his own. It was small, but it was a start.

Crowley still slept beside him every night, protectively holding the angel. He insisted it was just in case Aziraphale needed something. But the angel knew it was deeper than that. Crowley was rattled by how close he had come to losing his best friend. He was still scared of losing him. He needed reassurance that the angel was still there, that he wasn’t alone.

Truth be told, Aziraphale found it easier to sleep when he wasn’t alone. He was still scared of waking up and finding himself in Heaven again. In front of the Metatron. Many nights he would jerk awake, panting, unsettled by a horrific nightmare. Yet he was always lulled back to sleep by the feeling of Crowley’s arms around him.

Aziraphale worried about what was happening to the world. The Metatron was never idle. He tried asking Crowley, but the demon refused to answer. If Aziraphale pushed, Crowley would glare at him and shake his head. He refused to bring Aziraphale a newspaper or let him watch the news, which indicated things were getting worse.

Aziraphale didn’t push him. He was concerned, but he knew he was in no shape to fight. He still required Crowley’s help to even just stand for extended periods of time.

The angel distracted himself with books, while the demon took care of his plants. He seemed intrigued when Aziraphale suggested creating a small garden outside. They ate their meals together, which was Aziraphale’s favorite part of the day. Now that he was able to eat actual food again, it was a joy to share meals with Crowley.

As the days continued, Crowley seemed to be distracted by something. Some nights, Aziraphale would wake up from a deep sleep to see the demon standing at the window, staring out into the night. Crowley would always brush him off when he asked after him. “Focus on getting better, angel,” was his go to response. It started to frustrate Aziraphale, but he was too groggy to really press the issue.

Then one night, Aziraphale awoke from a nap when he heard the front door open. He frowned when he heard voices out in the hallway, trying to place them. He easily recognized Crowley’s tone and instantly relaxed. Yawning, the angel rolled onto his other side and closed his eyes, falling asleep again.

He was woken by Crowley gently shaking his shoulder. Aziraphale opened his eyes, looking over to Crowley and smiling softly.

“Hello,” he said quietly. The demon smiled slightly.

“Hi there,” Crowley replied. “I brought dinner. Nothing fancy tonight, I’m afraid.”

“It’s quite all right. I’m sure it’s scrumptious. It always is,” Aziraphale said as he started to push himself up into a sitting position.

“You flatter me, angel,” Crowley said with a faint smile.

The angel grimaced when pain raced up his back. Being in constant pain was exhausting and Aziraphale was tired of it. He was mourning the loss of his wings and hated having the daily reminder of the entire incident.

“Aziraphale?”

“I’m all right,” the angel reassured his friend. He opened his eyes and offered his friend a sheepish smile. “Could you help me?”

“Of course,” Crowley replied. He allowed Aziraphale to grip his shoulders and helped the angel sit up. Aziraphale leaned back against the pillows, briefly closing his eyes and letting out his breath.

“Thank you, Crowley,” he said gratefully. “I’m learning that healing isn’t an entirely pleasant experience, but it is infinitely preferable to the alternative.”

Crowley swallowed, smiling a little. He reached for the tray he had brought, placing it over Aziraphale’s lap. The angel looked at the delicious plate of food, marveling at the scent. He reached for the cutlery, watching as Crowley poked at his own food. There was something on his mind, Aziraphale could tell.

They ate their meal together as they always did, but it was the first time they ate in silence. Aziraphale watched as Crowley poured himself a glass of wine, swirling the dark red liquid around the glass. The angel started to feel nervous. He missed the days when he could outright ask Crowley what was bothering him. Though they had started to mend their rift, they still had a long way to go before they were back to how they had been before.

The quiet started to bother Aziraphale, as did the tension in Crowley’s shoulders. The demon was looking straight ahead, occasionally sipping his wine. Eventually, he glanced over to the angel.

“Are you finished?”

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley took the tray away, placing it on the chest of drawers across the room. He returned to the bed, sitting on the edge and looking down at his hands. Aziraphale played with his fingers, trying to figure out how to ask what was bothering his friend.

“Am I a demon?” Aziraphale asked, not knowing what else to say. Success! Crowley chuckled softly and straightened up, looking at the angel with a smile. There was a hint of sadness to the expression that worried the angel.

“Afraid not, Aziraphale,” he said with surety. Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, his back aching fiercely. He realized he wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Surely he wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t mortal. That meant he was some sort of fallen angel.

“How can you be certain? I was cast out of Heaven,” Aziraphale countered. Crowley still smiled warmly, even as he dropped his gaze. He shook his head, looking back to Aziraphale.

“It’s not quite so simple. Being cast out from Heaven doesn’t automatically make you a demon. You have to put in a bit more work than that,” Crowley explained. He paused and reached forward, gently tapping Aziraphale’s temple. “Also, your eyes are the same. Not even a hint of a different color or shape. You’re still an angel, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale sighed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. As if on cue, pain raced through his back.

“A rather sorry one,” Aziraphale said softly. “A wingless one.”

He felt rather ridiculous, still feeling ashamed of the loss of his wings. Especially after coming so close to losing his life. I should be grateful that I lived rather than mourning a superficial loss, Aziraphale berated himself.

“Wings don’t make you an angel. You stood before the voice of God to protect all of humanity. You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save billions. Your heart is still utterly pure. That’s more important than wings,” Crowley replied easily, dropping his gaze. “Makes you more of an angel than any of the other ones who fall in lockstep with the ineffable plan.”

Aziraphale sighed and leaned back against the mountain of pillows that kept him propped up, wincing at the ache in his still healing back. While the pain was no longer overwhelming, it was still a constant presence. A constant reminder.

Yet Crowley reminded him that he hadn’t lost everything. Not yet. The angel had to focus on recovering. His home was still in mortal danger. The ones he dearly loved were still in peril. The inhabitants of this world, the ones he had sworn to protect, needed him.

Aziraphale looked toward the room door. “Did I hear a knock at the door earlier?”

Crowley nodded. “You did. Maggie and Nina have been having trouble finding a safe harbor. We have some extra space, so I invited them to stay here.”

The angel smiled, feeling warmth spreading through his chest. No matter how much he protested it, Crowley had a good heart and was a good person.

“That was very kind of you, Crowley.”

Crowley shrugged. “Figured it was the least we could do. And Nina makes a decent cup of espresso. It’s near impossible to find good espresso anymore.”

Aziraphale smiled even wider. He did love when Crowley attempted to brush off good deeds. The angel’s smile fell slightly, wondering if Hell still kept track of his friend. Was Crowley still in danger of Hell’s wrath? Then again, he’d been caring for Aziraphale for over a month and not been bothered.

“I should like to say hello, after they have gotten settled,” Aziraphale said. He was still self-conscious of the state he was in, but he had greatly missed all his friends on Earth. Plus, he had always been naturally inclined to take care of humans, see to their needs, to protect them. They were such delightful creatures and had such short lives.

“Of course,” Crowley replied softly. “I know they would like to see you again.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow as he studied his friend. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Feeling Aziraphale’s eyes on him, Crowley looked over at him and smiled slightly. Something about the expression sent a chill down the angel’s spine.

“You’re hiding something,” Aziraphale said, not looking away. He was tired of dancing around issues and not talking about things directly. That was how he lost Crowley the first time. Aziraphale couldn’t lose him again.

“Usually yes. I am a demon, after all.”

“Crowley.”

A smirk danced over Crowley’s face, but it fell as quickly as it appeared. “Things are getting somewhat disastrous out there. Every day, more of the legions arrive, wreaking havoc, razing towns to the ground. The Metatron is apparently intent on bringing about the final judgement.”

Terror coiled around Aziraphale, and he dropped his gaze. He could feel his hands shaking. Sending a prayer to God, he asked her to keep he and Crowley safe. Then he let out his breath and started to push himself up. The pain was blinding, and his vision went white briefly, but Aziraphale was determined.

He was going to protect this world and humans until his dying breath. If he had to give his life to save his home and friends, he would do so gladly.

Crowley immediately lunged forward, pushing Aziraphale back.

“Absolutely not, angel!” he growled. “You were at death’s door recently. You haven’t healed yet. You’re in no shape to go into battle.”

“He cannot be allowed to destroy the world!” Aziraphale argued, trying to push Crowley’s hands away. “We must stand with humanity! We must protect them, Crowley. They have no one else. Now help me up.”

“The Metatron won’t be allowed to destroy anything. I give you my word,” Crowley reassured him. Aziraphale frowned as he looked at the demon. Crowley didn’t idly give his word, but he couldn’t promise such a thing. Especially not if he was insisting Aziraphale stay…

Oh no. No, no, no, no, he wouldn’t. He can’t!

The nightmare of the battlefield, the bodies of angels and demons alike, flashed across Aziraphale’s mind and the angel felt panic flare up. He had to talk him out of it.

But Crowley might be the only chance this world has.

“Crowley, no,” Aziraphale pleaded. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be back before you know it,” Crowley said easily. But Aziraphale knew his friend. He could hear the nervousness the demon kept well-hidden. Crowley was many things, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew how dangerous the Metatron was.

“He’s too powerful. You’ll be killed,” Aziraphale protested, feeling frantic. He didn’t want what happened to him to happen to Crowley. And that was what the Metatron would do.

Crowley rolled his eyes and Aziraphale could feel him start to pull away. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t let his friend go off to his death.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Aziraphale,” the demon said coldly.

“Don’t do that. You know that’s not what I meant,” Aziraphale replied, frustrated. Why couldn’t they understand each other? Why couldn’t they ever communicate?

Crowley looked at him expectantly and Aziraphale could read what he was thinking. Offer an alternative, a reasonable alternative, something that has a decent chance of working and that’s what we’ll do.

Aziraphale tried to think of something, anything, that would work. Anything that would prevent Crowley from going off without him. We never have enough time.

The angel slumped when he realized there was no other choice. Not if they wanted to have a decent chance at saving Earth and those who called her home. He could feel warmth gathering in his eyes and he sniffled. Looking up again, he met Crowley’s gaze.

“We’re a team, a duo. An us,” he tried. Crowley let out a bitter huff of a laugh, which stung Aziraphale. He could tell the demon was thinking about when Aziraphale left for heaven. The angel felt tears starting to crawl down his cheeks. What did he have to do to prove to Crowley that he loved him? That he chose him? That he was always going to choose Crowley over Heaven?

Did Crowley truly still doubt his love?

“Sometimes we have to work separately. Don’t worry, Aziraphale. I’m not going to put myself in the line of fire. You’re the noble one, not me,” Crowley told him.

I’m losing him. I’m losing him right now. How do I prevent this? How do I show him that he is loved? That I do love him?

And then, Aziraphale had a realization: I have to trust him. I have to let him go.

Without thinking, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s jacket and pulled him into a deep passionate kiss. He poured all the love he felt for Crowley, all the love he had always felt for him, into it. At first, Crowley went rigid with surprise. But then, he opened his mouth and returned the angel’s passion. Aziraphale felt the love radiating from Crowley wrap around him. It felt familiar and safe, like home.

In his mind, Aziraphale could see all the times they had shared together over millennia. And he saw what their future could be. A future he wanted so much that it physically ached. He could feel the familiar love that had always come from Crowley. He had to protect Crowley, had to keep him safe, but he also had to respect his friend and trust him as he always had.

He had to let Crowley do this. Earth was Crowley’s home too and, as much as he denied it, Crowley liked humans. He cared about them, about what happened to them. He always had.

Tears streamed down Aziraphale’s face as he clung to the demon who saved his life, who had saved his life a number of times over the years, who loved him for millennia, who would do anything for him. Who trusted him. It wasn’t a kiss goodbye. It was a declaration of love and a promise: I trust you. I love you. I will wait for you. I will be here when you return.

He just hoped the demon understood the message. Aziraphale had faith in him.

Eventually they pulled back, but kept their brows rested against each other. Aziraphale realized Crowley didn’t want the moment to end any more than he did. He could see tears welling in the demon’s eyes and could see his friend was struggling to maintain his resolve.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered. He had wanted to say those words for years, but had always been too afraid. Too afraid of what it would mean, for him, for Crowley. His fear was partly what had gotten them into this mess.

Aziraphale wasn’t afraid anymore. He had already declared his love for Crowley in front of a heavenly host. It was only right the demon heard it from him as well.

He heard Crowley’s breath hitch and the demon shivered, clinging to Aziraphale’s arms. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Aziraphale, realizing he was still clutching Crowley’s jacket, reluctantly let go. The angel’s fingers brushed against the coin he used to practice sleight of hand and he impulsively slipped it into Crowley’s jacket pocket. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he believed in luck, but he was willing to try anything to keep Crowley safe.

The demon’s yellow eyes met his once more and Crowley looked as though he wanted to say something. But then he leaned back and rose to his feet, clearing his throat.

“Maggie and Nina will be here, if you need anything. I’m leaving the Bentley with you three, in case you need a fast getaway. I don’t know where you could go, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out, should it come to that,” Crowley told him, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. He put his sunglasses on, looking everywhere except at Aziraphale.

“I convinced Gabriel and Beelzebub to help defend humanity,” Crowley told him, irritation dripping from his voice. “The Metatron is hanging around London mostly, seems to have taken a shine to the place. We’re going to head there tonight, start putting our plan into motion. With any luck, this’ll all be over in a week or two.”

Aziraphale was startled by the faint sound of a car horn outside. He looked back to Crowley, who was looking over at the windows. His hands were in the pockets of his tight jeans.

“Get plenty of rest, angel. I’ll come back when all this is over.”

The angel’s heart was breaking. Tears were streaming down his face as he watched Crowley turn and reach for the doorknob.

“I’ll look after your plants while you’re away. The Bentley too,” Aziraphale promised him. Crowley dropped his head and for a split second, Aziraphale thought he would turn around and return to bed. That he would wrap his arms around Aziraphale and not let go. There was still time, there was always still time. Stay. Stay with me, please.

Crowley opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. Aziraphale looked over toward the window. Carefully pushing himself up, Aziraphale rose from the bed, gritting his teeth and clutching the bed frame as he made his way over to the window in the room. Each step sent pain racing up his back and made him lightheaded, but the angel was determined. Leaning heavily on the window frame, he looked out into the night, soon spotting the car parked in front of the cottage. He watched as Crowley strode down the pathway, making his way towards the car.

“Turn around, please turn around,” Aziraphale whispered under his breath. Crowley reached the car and opened the door to the backseat. He paused and then twisted, looking back at the cottage. Aziraphale tried to smile as he raised a hand, waving goodbye. Crowley waved back, then dropped into the backseat.

Aziraphale watched as the car sped off into the night, the familiar sense of love fading as it went further and further away. Before long, it had vanished down the dark road.

The angel let out a sob as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, weeping. He hugged himself as he cried. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. They had just found each other again. They had finally started working things out, talking to each other. He had finally told Crowley that he loved him. They had reunited only to separate yet again.

“Mr. Fell?” Maggie’s sweet voice came from out in the hall, followed by a soft knock on the door. “Mr. Fell, are you alright?”

Aziraphale could not respond as he continued to weep. He heard the door open and Maggie’s footsteps approach. The woman knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him, allowing the angel to cry on her shoulder. He clung to her as he continued to weep.

“He’s gone. Crowley’s gone,” Aziraphale sobbed.

“It’s alright. He’ll come back,” she murmured reassuringly. “Have faith in Mr. Crowley. He loves you. More than anything. We’ll take care of each other, and he will be back before you know it.”

“I can barely feel him. How will I know if he’s okay? How will I know if he needs help?” Aziraphale wept. He heard Nina enter the room and she sat on his other side, wrapping her arms him as well.

“It’s okay, Mr. Fell,” Nina said. “Everything will be fine.”

Eventually the two women helped him back to bed where Aziraphale fell asleep rather quickly. He woke in the middle of the night and instinctively looked to Crowley’s side of the bed. It was empty. Tears fell from the angel’s eyes anew. Aziraphale reached over and pulled the pillow Crowley normally used to him, bringing it to his chest and burying his nose in it.

If he focused, he could still faintly feel Crowley and prayed he would be safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Return to London

Things got bad for a month. There were reports of cities being razed. Aziraphale, Maggie, and Nina stayed in the cottage in the South Downs. They remained vigilant, watching for any signs of legions in the area. Nina made sure the Bentley was always in working order, checking to make sure it had enough gas, and the engine was in top shape. They had an escape plan, which they reviewed daily.

Then, humanity won. Something changed and things started returning to normal. People started rebuilding. The angels and demons, the ones that survived, started leaving.

Once Aziraphale was feeling strong enough, he started preparing meals for himself and the two women who shared the cottage with him. Sharing meals together was delightful and kept the angel’s loneliness at bay. They shared stories and laughter. It seemed like nothing could touch them in their peaceful little sanctuary.

After their meals, they would watch the news, keeping track of current events. They celebrated when the last of the legions left Earth, sharing a celebratory dinner and wine together. During the meal, Aziraphale couldn’t help but glance at the empty seat at the table. The seat Crowley would normally occupy. He will come back. He never breaks his word, Aziraphale reassured himself.

That night, Aziraphale stood outside, closed his eyes, and let out a breath. The world was finally safe. He felt more relaxed than he had in years. Their home was free. The angel opened his eyes and gazed at the twinkling stars above. His thoughts strayed back to millennia ago, during the creation of the Universe. The redheaded star maker, how his beautiful brown eyes sparkled with joy.

“You did it, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. “You did it. I knew you would.”

Aziraphale wanted to feel relief when things started returning to normal, but he just couldn’t. He was painfully aware of Crowley’s absence. He knew he wasn’t dead, at least he didn’t think it likely. There was the faintest hint, little more than a flicker, of that familiar love. Crowley was still out there somewhere. Aziraphale knew it. He could feel it.

He put a lamp in the front window and switched it on every night, hoping it would be a beacon to the demon. Every day he woke up alone, Aziraphale felt a little crestfallen. But he trusted Crowley. He trusted him to return.

A few weeks passed and there was no word from Crowley.

That was as long as Aziraphale could wait. It was time to start searching for his friend.

“I just don’t know where to begin,” Aziraphale told Maggie and Nina over breakfast.

“Have you reached out to friends?” Nina asked before taking a bite of toast. “You told us about how you two averted Armageddon the first time. What about the people who were there?”

Aziraphale nodded. “That’s actually a splendid idea. I don’t suppose I could borrow one of your cellular devices?”

Nina made a confused face at his question, but Maggie grinned.

“Of course, Mr. Fell. Here you go,” she said, producing a phone from her pocket. Aziraphale thanked her as he accepted her phone, smiling as he felt a sense of hope.

“Call Seargent Shadwell,” he told the phone screen.

“Oh, you have to dial the number you’re calling,” Maggie said. Aziraphale shook his head.

“My dear, I use my miracles for such tasks,” he explained, looking back to the phone. The screen was still dark. He swallowed and placed the phone on the table.

“Apparently, I still can’t use my miracles,” the angel said sadly. He was trying to stay hopeful, but he was worried.

“Do you know this Seargent’s number?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Aziraphale replied, his eyes widening as a thought came to him. “Crowley’s number! I know Crowley’s number! Oh heavens, why didn’t I think of that to begin with?”

He quickly grabbed the phone off the table and dialed in Crowley’s number, which he knew better than the back of his hand. He smiled widely as he held the phone to his ear.

“It’s ringing,” he told the women excitedly. They smiled back at him, waiting. The phone rang and rang. And rang. And rang.

Aziraphale’s smile fell when he heard Crowley’s familiar voicemail message, and he hung up the phone, rubbing his eyes. Where was his friend?

“It’s alright, Mr. Fell. We can try again later,” Nina told him.

“We’ll try every day until he picks up,” Maggie promised. Aziraphale offered them a watery smile and pushed some food around on his plate.

You promised to come back, Crowley, he thought sadly.

_*_

“Mr. Fell, there is something we would like to speak to you about,” Nina said as Aziraphale put plates of food in front of her and Maggie. It was a lovely spring evening and he had just finished making dinner for all three of them. Aziraphale smiled excitedly.

“Are you two planning your nuptials?” he asked. “If you like, I could officiate.”

Maggie and Nina stared at him. Aziraphale’s smile fell, and he cleared his throat.

“Oh dear. I take it from your expressions that was not what you wished to speak to me about,” Aziraphale said, feeling mildly embarrassed.

“No, not today,” Maggie said with a kind smile. “We called Muriel, and they told us that London is making great progress rebuilding. The flats have all been repaired enough to be lived in again. They’re still rebuilding, and will be for some time, but people are starting to return to the city.”

She paused and exchanged a look with Nina, who nodded.

“Our building is one of the ones welcoming tenants back,” she finished. Aziraphale smiled as he looked between the two women, even though he felt a pang in his heart.

“That’s wonderful. I take it you intend to return,” he said.

“We do,” Nina replied. “We miss the city and our little home. As well as the shops. Don’t get us wrong, this place is lovely, and we are so grateful that you and Crowley offered us a haven when we couldn’t find any.”

“It was the least we could do,” Aziraphale replied, taking a sip of tea. “Having you both here has been a great comfort to me while I recovered.”

He winced when he felt a stab of pain where his wing used to be. He reached back and massaged the sore area.

“Mr. Fell, we wanted to ask you to come back with us,” Maggie said.

“You’re still healing, and we don’t want to leave you on your own,” Nina added.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Aziraphale reassured them with a smile. “London is your home, and you should return to it. I will help you move back. Shall we go at the end of the week?”

“Are you sure, Mr. Fell?” Maggie asked as they continued enjoying their dinner. “I hate thinking of you here alone. It seems rather lonely.”

“We have a spare room in our flat,” Nina put in. “It’s small, but it’s cozy. You could stay for as long as you like.”

Aziraphale smiled. He really did love humans.

“That’s very kind of you, but I could not possibly impose. Besides, this place is home for Crowley and me. He will be back eventually. He promised he would be,” Aziraphale told them, softly adding, “He always keeps his promises.”

The women exchanged a look. It had been more than a month since Crowley had left, and they hadn’t heard a word from him. The daily calls just went to voicemail.

“Mr. Fell,” Maggie started. Aziraphale looked at her. She swallowed and offered him a shaky smile, shaking her head.

“Never mind. I’m sure Mr. Crowley will be back soon,” she said, obviously humoring him. Aziraphale smiled and focused on his dinner. He tried to feel the love that was so unique to Crowley, but try as he might, he couldn’t sense it.

_*_

The next week, Aziraphale went with the two women to London. They stopped on the way to pick up groceries.

“Hope we still have a fridge,” Nina mentioned.

“You do,” Aziraphale replied. “I had Maggie call Muriel and I told them to make sure you had all the utilities and comforts you had before this whole mess happened. It was the least I could do.”

Both women smiled at each other. The sense of relief was palpable. Aziraphale grinned, pleased that he had been able to do something for his friends. He was going to miss them terribly but intended to visit once he found Crowley.

London was well on its way to being fully rebuilt. The damage from the war was still noticeable and there were a few sights that were gone, likely too damaged to be repaired, but Aziraphale was happy to find he still recognized his former home.

He eased the Bentley down the road, feeling his heart beating a little faster as they got closer to the bookshop. Aziraphale didn’t want to visit the place where he had nearly lost his life. Eventually he believed he would be able to visit the bookshop again, but it would never be what it once was. Something about that made the angel sad.

“Not as many people as usual,” Maggie observed.

“There will be. Eventually,” Aziraphale said, stopping the car so a family could cross. “The area is still healing.”

It wasn’t long before the coffee shop came into view and instantly, Aziraphale’s eyes welled up. He started trembling as he thought back to the whole incident with the Metatron. He slowly let out his breath, doing his best to remain calm.

“Are you alright, Mr. Fell?” Maggie asked. Aziraphale looked over at her and nodded, turning his eyes back to the road.

“Here we are,” Nina said. “Home sweet home.”

The angel smiled and pulled in front of the building, parking the Bentley. It looked a little smoke damaged, but otherwise, good as new. His eyes turned a little to his bookshop just down the street. It looked a bit more damaged than Nina and Maggie’s building, but it was still salvageable. Aziraphale got out of the car, as did the two women. They shared a loving peck before retrieving their few belongings from the backseat of the Bentley.

“Oh, I brought you a small housewarming gift,” Aziraphale said as he leaned to retrieve something from the backseat. He straightened up again and presented them with a plant.

“Mr. Fell, you shouldn’t have,” Maggie said, beaming. “Look, Nina, it’s a Philodendron. I love these. I had one in uni.”

“Is it one of his?” Nina asked gently. Aziraphale swallowed and nodded.

“He would want you to have it. A token of our gratitude,” he said. “Also, this.”

He handed Nina a book. She took it and studied the cover.

“A first edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, charming tale. It doesn’t quite fit with my collection and I have wanted to find it a suitable home for some time now. I can’t think of a better one than with the two of you,” the angel explained. Nina swallowed and then wrapped her arms around the angel, careful of his sensitive back.

“Don’t be a stranger, do you hear me? I expect you to call at least once a week to let us know you’re okay. Mr. Crowley will have our heads if we let anything happen to you,” she murmured. Aziraphale embraced her, nodding. Tears were welling in his eyes. He was going to miss seeing them every day.

“I will,” Aziraphale promised. “You are always welcome to visit us in the South Downs. Our home shall always be yours as well.”

“Take care, Mr. Fell,” Maggie said as she stepped forward to hug him. “I put our number in that phone we got for you. If you need anything, anything at all, you just call us, and we’ll come straight away.”

“Thank you, ladies. And let me know if I can ever do anything for you.”

“Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale didn’t have a chance to react as a sudden weight slammed into him, causing him to sit down hard on the ground. He winced and yelped at the pull on his still tender back. He could hear Maggie and Nina protesting, but Aziraphale just wrapped his arms around the young recording angel. He hugged them tightly, briefly closing his eyes as relief flooded through him.

“Muriel,” he exclaimed happily. “Oh thank the heavens. I am so happy to see you again.”

They pulled out of the hug, smiling with tears in their eyes. They realized they had knocked him down and their face flushed with embarrassment as they quickly went to help him up. Aziraphale couldn’t prevent the cry of pain that escaped him when they tugged on his arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Muriel cried, but Aziraphale waved them off.

“It’s quite all right, Muriel. Just a bit tender after…” Aziraphale trailed off, swallowing. He still hadn’t come to terms with the loss of his wings and wasn’t ready to speak of it to anyone.

“Would you two like to come upstairs for a proper cup of tea?” Maggie quickly interjected, noticing Aziraphale’s discomfort. Nina moved to his side and helped him to his feet. The angel smiled gratefully and nodded.

A few minutes later, the two angels were sitting at Nina and Maggie’s dining table. There was a kettle on the stove and Nina was going through the cabinets, putting away the last of the groceries they had picked up on the way to London. Maggie approached with a plate of biscuits.

“Muriel?” Aziraphale started. “Have you seen or heard from Crowley?”

Muriel’s face fell, as they looked between the three of them. They swallowed and looked down at their hands, shaking their head.

“No, I haven’t seen him. I hoped he would be with you,” they said. Aziraphale’s heart sank, and he glanced over at Maggie, who exchanged a look with him.

“We haven’t seen him since he left, just before the great final battle,” Aziraphale told them.

“I would be dead if it weren’t for him,” Muriel said. “I really hope he is okay. It was a brutal fight and so many fell.”

“You saw him during the actual fighting?”

Muriel nodded. “I fought on the side of humanity, but I don’t have much experience fighting. I’m just a recording angel. The Metatron knocked me to the ground and…”

The angel swallowed, dropping their hands to their lap, and looking down. Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand over theirs. He felt a brief flare of anger as he thought about what the Metatron might have said to Muriel to elicit such a reaction.

“He said…he said I was defiled, corrupted by the forces of Hell and the humans,” Muriel murmured, their breath hitching.

“Oh, Muriel,” Aziraphale said comfortingly, reaching forward and hugging them. “He was wrong. He had no right to say such awful things to you.”

He felt Muriel tremble against him. He gently kissed the top of their head, comforting them as best he could. Maggie moved to their side, gently rubbing Muriel’s back.

“This Metatron sounds like a sadistic cunt,” Nina mentioned. Muriel drew in a deep breath and straightened up, tears shining in their large brown eyes.

“He had me on the ground and was ready to strike me down, said he was going to take my wings. I was so scared. How could any angel even consider doing such a heinous thing? It’s barbaric.”

As if on cue, Aziraphale felt a twinge in his sensitive back. He ignored it as he continued comforting Muriel. They swallowed and drew in a deep breath.

“I begged him not to and tried to get away, but he had me pinned. Then Crowley appeared and blocked his stroke. He shoved him away from me, stood between the Metatron and I. Crowley was so angry. I-I thought he was going to kill the Metatron.”

Muriel paused, swiping away a tear. “I thought I heard him say something about the Metatron… executing you, but obviously I misheard.”

Oh Crowley, what did you do? Aziraphale thought. He looked over to the windowsill where a few sparrows were perched. It really was a lovely day and the angel wished he could enjoy it.

Muriel swallowed and looked at Aziraphale. “Crowley put up a good fight and had the upper hand. Then the Metatron grabbed Crowley by the throat and threw him clear across the battlefield. I didn’t see him after that. I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I wish I could be more helpful.”

“It’s quite all right. Crowley will turn up again eventually. He always does,” Aziraphale said, though in his heart he worried. Where are you, Crowley?

“Do you think—?” Nina asked.

“No,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “Until I see his body, I won’t believe he’s not still alive. Even if…even if he’s not, he deserves to be laid to rest. I’m going to find him. If it’s the last thing I do, I will find Crowley and bring him home.”

“I’ll help you!” Muriel declared enthusiastically.

“As will we,” Maggie stated, wrapping an arm around Nina’s waist. Nina grinned and nodded.

“Where do we start looking for your wayward paramour, Mr. Fell?” she asked, a hint of teasing. Aziraphale smiled gratefully at the three of them, his heart warming.

“First, we need to make sure that all our Earth contacts are aware of our search. I want everyone we know to keep an eye out for Crowley. I will contact Anathema and Newt tonight. Anathema can scry for Crowley. Madam Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell should also be on the lookout. Nina, do you think you can help Muriel with that?”

“Of course,” Nina agreed, smiling at the recording angel. “No questions about my love life, kid.”

Muriel beamed and nodded eagerly.

“Muriel, do you happen to have any holy water?” Aziraphale asked. The kettle started whistling and Maggie took it off the burner. She started preparing a couple cups of tea.

“I do, actually. A fair amount,” they looked a little uncomfortable, shifting their weight. “The legions were stockpiling it in the bookshop, so I…moved it to a different location. You always said, no holy water in the bookshop!”

Aziraphale smiled at them, kissing their brow. “Muriel, you are truly amazing. Maggie, bit of an odd request, do you think you could get your hands on a large water gun, one of those super soakers children are so fond of?”

Maggie blinked a few times, placing a cup of tea in front of each angel. “Er, yes, I probably could. Why?”

Aziraphale put a couple cubes of sugar into his teacup, stirring the hot liquid with a small spoon.

“Before I search this world for Crowley, there are two places I must first rule out,” the angel explained simply. “Our former places of employment.”

“You don’t mean…?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’m going to take a quick trip to Heaven and Hell.”

Muriel exchanged a concerned look with Maggie and Nina. Aziraphale sipped his tea, listening to the songs of the birds in the open window. The angel felt a new sense of determination. He had a plan, and he was going to follow through on it.

He was going to bring Crowley home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: To Hell

The next day, Aziraphale returned to London, intending to stay with Maggie and Nina for a few days. He had left a note for Crowley on the coffee table. Just in case.

He had Crowley’s plants in the backseat, along with some other odds and ends that he would need for his unannounced visits to Hell and Heaven. His back was uncomfortably stiff, as it had been all day, but Aziraphale disregarded it.

He smiled when he saw Nina and Muriel waiting outside for him. Muriel waved excitedly and Aziraphale pulled into the perfect parking spot, parking the Bentley. As he undid his seatbelt, the muscles in his back started spasming. Aziraphale gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his grasp. The angel gritted his teeth and slowly let out his breath.

“You can do this,” Aziraphale said to himself. “It’s just healing pains. Crowley needs you. I won’t let him down.”

The angel swallowed and opened the door of the Bentley. He got out of the car and greeted his friends.

“Mr. Crowley certainly likes his plants,” Nina observed as she opened the back door and grabbed a box containing two rather large plants.

“Oh yes, very much,” Aziraphale replied, reaching in and grabbing another. Muriel grabbed a couple more and hurried behind them. He could feel the muscles in his back twitching and the pain growing but ignored it.

“You alright, Mr. Fell? You look a little unsteady and rather pale. Paler than usual, anyway,” Nina mentioned as she closed the door.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Aziraphale replied. No sooner had he said those words than the muscles in his back seized up painfully and Aziraphale dropped the plant he was holding, letting out a cry. His hand went to his back, and he clenched his eyes shut. For a heart stopping minute, he thought he was going to faint.

“Mr. Fell, what’s wrong?” Muriel asked, obviously worried. Nina quickly put down the box of plants she was carrying and gently pulled Aziraphale’s arm over her shoulders.

“Come on, hold onto me,” she told him, wrapping an arm about his waist and taking most of his weight onto her. “Let’s get you inside.”

“The plants,” Aziraphale protested, even as he let her help him. “I promised Crowley I would take care of them.”

“I’ll come back for the plants, Mr. Fell. Come on, it’s just up this flight and our flat is right there,” Nina reassured him. Aziraphale nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain, and Nina slowly led him up the short flight of stairs, allowing the angel to lean heavily on her.

“I’ll stay here with the plants,” Muriel told them.

Though the stairs looked daunting, they were relatively easy to go up. Nina was gentle and didn’t rush him. Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t still been upright without her help.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Aziraphale said, apologetically. “I haven’t had one of these episodes for a while.”

“Don’t apologize, Mr. Fell. We all need help sometimes. Your body is still healing. Don’t fight it,” Nina replied.

They reached the top of the stairs and Nina led him to the green door of their flat. She quickly opened it and led the angel inside.

“Mags, Mr. Fell has arrived,” Nina called. “He needs a bit of help.”

Maggie stepped into the main area from the kitchen. “Oh Mr. Fell, are you alright? How bad is the pain?”

“I’ll be fine,” Aziraphale reassured her, easing himself down onto the couch and gritting his teeth when the muscles in his back continued to seize up. “Crowley was right: wings can grow back. He failed to warn me that it hurts like the dickens.”

“I’m going to go help Muriel with Crowley’s plants,” Nina said. “Back in a bit.”

Aziraphale grunted, placing a hand on his aching back, trying to steady his breathing.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Maggie asked. “I just took a kettle off the burner.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you,” Aziraphale replied. “I suppose I’m going to have to tell Muriel what happened to me. I dread it, but they should know if they’re going to help us find Crowley.”

“You don’t have to reveal anything you don’t want to, Mr. Fell,” Maggie called from the kitchen. “It’s your body.”

“I know, but they have become quite dear to Crowley and me. I trust them,” Aziraphale replied. He looked over to the door when it opened, allowing Nina and Muriel entrance. The young recording angel looked a little shaken, which made Aziraphale feel guilty. Maggie stepped into the room from the kitchen with a cup of tea. She handed it to Aziraphale, who thanked her.

“I’ll get the rest of the plants out from the Bentley,” Nina said. She kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. Maggie smiled and twisted when she heard a ding.

“The muffins are done,” she said. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Aziraphale said gratefully. He leaned forward to place the tea on the coffee table and winced in pain.

“Are you alright, Aziraphale?” Muriel asked. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale sighed and ran a hand over his brow, considering where to begin. He turned as much as his healing body would allow, smiling faintly at the recording angel.

“Muriel, there’s something you should know. About what happened in Heaven, the manner of my return,” he said.

“You didn’t come back to fight on the side of humanity?” Muriel asked, curious.

“No, I’m afraid not. I would have, but unfortunately, I never got the chance,” Aziraphale told them, taking a deep breath. He felt sick to his stomach and was already regretting his decision to relive the horrible experience. His muscles spasmed again and he grimaced.

“You’re in pain,” Muriel observed. “What happened?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. I don’t have to go into graphic detail. I will just give them the gist of what happened, the angel quickly decided. Aziraphale had come to realize he wasn’t yet ready to relive all that had happened, not again. He leaned back a little, meeting Muriel’s gaze.

“I went to Heaven with ulterior motives. I decided I was going to save Earth, as I had sworn to do as a principality. I tried to convince the Metatron of the good of humans, asked for mercy for the planet. He would not listen to any argument. He said God’s ineffable plan required humans face a horrible final judgement. I could not allow that, Muriel. I could not allow so many innocent lives to be taken. So, I started foiling the Archangels efforts. For a while it worked. I don’t like to brag, but I was rather good at it. I destroyed many sensitive files. Including the ones Heaven kept on Crowley.

“However, my luck eventually ran out. Shortly after confronting the Metatron, I was caught and brought before him. He sentenced me to death for treason,” Aziraphale paused, slowly letting out his breath. He reached for the teacup, sipping the drink. He could feel a tremor go through his hand, but the pain in his back was starting to fade.

“They…the Archangels cut off my wings, Muriel. And the Metatron used Divine Retribution to ensure I would not survive the ordeal,” Aziraphale told them quietly. Muriel gasped, their hands flying to their mouth and tears welling in their eyes.

“What?” Muriel asked, their voice trembling.

“I was dying, but I managed to make it back to Earth. Crowley found me near death in the bookshop. He took me out of the city, to a cottage in the South Downs. Apparently, Gabriel and Beelzebub had been staying there for a short while before venturing off to find a home of their own. For over a month, he cared for me, bringing me back from the brink of death. By all rights, I should not be here, but Crowley never gave up. He fought hard, even when I lacked the strength to do so.

“Since he left, I’ve slowly been recovering. I’m still experiencing spells of pain, sometimes rather intense pain,” Aziraphale explained. “After Crowley left, Nina and Maggie took care of me until I had healed enough to take care of myself. According to them, my wings are starting to grow back. Which is part of the pain I’m experiencing.”

“Aziraphale, I am so sorry that happened to you,” Muriel said, swiping away a tear. Aziraphale offered them a gentle smile and patted their knee.

“It’s quite alright, dear. I lived and that’s the important part,” Aziraphale told them.

“I’m happy you did,” Muriel replied.

Both angels looked to the door when Nina came through with the last of the plants.

“So you’re going to hold off on the trip to Hell, I imagine,” Nina said as she started putting the plants around the apartment. Maggie stepped out of the kitchen with a plate of fresh muffins. Muriel eagerly helped themselves to one.

“No, I’m still going today,” Aziraphale replied, drawing the shocked looks of all the others in the room. He sipped his tea, already feeling better.

“Mr. Fell—”

“I appreciate your concern, really I do,” Aziraphale interrupted, looking over at Maggie. “But Crowley has been missing for over a month. If he’s in Hell…an hour in Hell feels like a hundred years up here. No, I am not waiting even a moment more. Crowley would not leave me if our positions were reversed. I won’t give up on him.”

“Are you certain you don’t need a cane or something?” Nina asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“No, I shall be okay to walk without an aid,” Aziraphale told her, turning to Maggie. “Were you able to get a water gun?”

Maggie ran a hand through her hair. “I did. I borrowed it from one of our neighbors. It’s…rather colorful.”

“That’s fine,” Aziraphale said, watching as she went back in the kitchen. “Did you get a chance to fill it?”

“We did,” Muriel answered. “I will go with you.”

“No,” Aziraphale quickly said. “Muriel, Hell is not a pleasant place. It’s dangerous and horrid. Crowley is different from other demons. I will be going on my own.”

“I know all about Hell. I have read about it extensively and I have encountered demons already. I’m younger than you, but I’m not a child. I can help.”

“I understand you wish to help, but this is something I must do on my own,” Aziraphale told them, before looking over their shoulder and furrowing his brow. “What the heaven is that?”

Maggie had stepped out of the kitchen with a water gun that was colored with the brightest yellows and greens Aziraphale had ever seen. There were sparkly unicorn stickers all over it. It looked ridiculous. Oh Crowley, I wish you were here to see this, Aziraphale thought, a pang in his heart. He missed Crowley’s laugh.

“I told you, it was borrowed.”

Aziraphale sighed, holding out his hand and wincing at the faint ache the movement caused. Maggie handed him the gun and he examined it. It was relatively simple, and it would do what he needed. Its ridiculous appearance was superficial.

“Thank you, Maggie. This is perfect,” Aziraphale said gratefully. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up into a standing position. He tested his balance and was pleased to find the worst of the pain had passed. He was nervous but determined.

“Well, no use putting this off any longer,” Aziraphale said. “I shouldn’t be long. We can have a nice supper when I get back. Heavens know I will probably need it.”

“We’ll wait for you at the coffee shop,” Nina said as she grabbed the keys to the flat. Aziraphale nodded. He sent a prayer to heaven to keep Crowley safe.

_*_

Aziraphale clung to Crowley, his entire body shaking. His heart was hammering in his chest, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Aziraphale swallowed and looked up at Crowley with teary eyes. Crowley looked back at him, his arms protective around the vulnerable angel.

“Another nightmare?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale swallowed and nodded.

“Of what happened?” Crowley continued. The angel sniffled and nodded again. He laid his head back on Crowley’s chest, wishing the shaking would stop. Crowley was quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Aziraphale shook his head, tears streaming down his face. The last thing he wanted to think about when he felt as vulnerable as he did was all that had happened in Heaven. He felt Crowley kiss his head and Aziraphale closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t deserve the love he felt from Crowley.

“I wish I was fearless like you,” he whispered. “Maybe I would have done some good in Heaven if—”

“I’m not fearless.”

Aziraphale swallowed and held Crowley tighter. “You’re braver than I am.”

The demon adjusted his hold slightly so that he could turn onto his side.

“Do you know, when I first fell, I wept for days? I was terrified,” Crowley admitted, his eyes darting about briefly. “I hid for a long time after that. I didn’t want to be a demon. I just wanted to go back to the only home I had ever known. Even prayed for quite some time. Didn’t win me any friends, but I was desperate.”

Aziraphale sniffled and embraced Crowley even more. He didn’t like thinking of what happened to angels after they fell. It was brutal, undoubtedly, and cruel. Aziraphale berated himself for being so disturbed by his own memories. How could that even compare to physically falling to Hell?

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” he whimpered.

“Aziraphale, please stop apologizing for things you had no fault in,” Crowley sighed, keeping his arms around the angel. For a moment, they just lay in silence. Aziraphale’s fever had finally broken the previous afternoon, but the angel was still very weak.

“Has the pain gotten any better?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded weakly.

“A little, after you changed the bandages,” he replied. Crowley smiled sadly, running a hand through Aziraphale’s hair.

“Good,” he said. “Do you want to try to sleep tonight?”

Aziraphale didn’t want to sleep again, but he knew Crowley would stay up all night if he did. The demon was already sacrificing so much to take care of Aziraphale. The angel didn’t want him to give up yet another thing he enjoyed.

“Yes, I think I do,” Aziraphale said, pretending to yawn. “I’m very tired.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow, obviously seeing through the angel’s act. Still, he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, holding the angel against his chest. Despite still feeling haunted by the images from his dreams, Aziraphale felt himself relax in Crowley’s arms.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

The demon paused. “If you ever need, or want, to talk more about what happened while you were in Heaven, you can. Obviously, you don’t have to, but…I will listen, if that’s what you need. Anything you need, you just have to ask, alright?”

“I know, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. “Thank you.”

The angel closed his eyes, smiling faintly when he felt the demon gently stroke his back. The steady beat of Crowley’s heart lulled him back to sleep.

_*_

Aziraphale kept his eyes forward as he rode the elevator down to Hell. The sense of dread grew the further down the elevator traveled. He hadn’t been to Hell since he and Crowley had swapped bodies to protect each other. Aziraphale had been rather amused how easy it was to frighten demons. Crowley had never spoken of what he experienced in Heaven as Aziraphale. The angel hadn’t thought much of it at the time. After all that had happened, Aziraphale worried about what the demon might have witnessed or experienced.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open, letting in the fetid stench of Hell. Aziraphale didn’t react as he stepped out into the squalor and filth. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see demons cowering, scurrying behind pillars and into shadows like cockroaches. The demons had taken the heaviest losses in the war, from what Aziraphale heard. It would take them some time to be close to functioning again.

Hell was neutralized and the demons wanted no trouble.

“You stink of love.”

Aziraphale paused and turned his gaze to the side. He saw a one-armed demon sitting on some boxes. He vaguely recognized the hair done up as ears. His eyes were downcast, and he was holding his one arm close to his chest, the fingers curled stiffly into claws. It looked as though he had suffered a lot of wounds in the battles.

“You won’t find him here,” the demon said, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “He wouldn’t come here.”

Part of Aziraphale wanted to keep walking, but something about this pitiful demon stirred up sympathy within him. He moved over toward him, and the demon sprang up, backing away, his eyes wide and fearful.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Aziraphale reassured him. “My name is Aziraphale. What is yours?”

“Eric,” the demon replied, looking nervously at the water gun in Aziraphale’s hands. The angel placed it down on some nearby boxes.

“That’s a nice name,” Aziraphale complimented, nodding to his hand that was curled into a claw. “That looks uncomfortable. May I?”

Eric looked at him, suspicious. “Why would an angel want to help a demon?”

“I want to help you because you appear to be in pain. I don’t care what you are,” Aziraphale replied. Eric took a cautious step forward.

“You’re a weird sort of angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and held out his hands. “You’re not the first one to tell me something along those lines. I will take it as a compliment.”

He gently took Eric’s rigid hand, holding it between his own and reached deep down within himself. Come on, just a small miracle. Just to alleviate this poor soul’s pain.

To his great shock, he felt a faint surge of power travel through him, and his hands glowed briefly. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and a smile spread over his face. He’d done it! He had performed a miracle, albeit a small one. Sure, he felt a little weaker and slightly dizzy, but he had done it.

Eric stared at his hand in shock, flexing his now limber fingers. He looked to Aziraphale.

“Don’t suppose you could grow me another arm,” he said. Aziraphale let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

“I’m afraid that is beyond my abilities,” he replied, wiping some sweat from his brow and retrieving the super soaker. He looked back to the demon, who was still flexing his fingers. There was a faint hint of awe in his face.

“Have you seen the demon Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. Eric looked at him and shook his head.

“No, not since the bookshop.”

“I imagine Shax is sitting on her throne,” Aziraphale said, looking down the corridor before looking back at the demon. Eric nodded and then stepped back in the shadows. The angel sighed and continued on. He walked with his head held high, as though he had walked these filthy halls his entire life. He was an angel on a mission, and he would not be deterred.

Shax was sitting atop her throne, looking every inch the prince of Hell she was. Her black hair fell to her shoulders. She wore dark clothing, which matched the overall aesthetic. There was a jagged scar across her face, undoubtedly from the war. There were demons milling about, but they scattered when Aziraphale entered.

Shax narrowed her eyes and gripped the throne a little tighter, obviously unhappy with Aziraphale’s unannounced visit. Aziraphale stopped when he stood in front of the throne, smiling pleasantly.

“Shax,” he said cordially.

“Aziraphale,” she greeted. “I don’t recall requesting or approving a visit from Heaven.”

“Oh, I’m not here on heavenly business,” he replied. “This is a purely personal endeavor.”

“You still need—”

“I’m looking for Crowley. Is he here?” Aziraphale interrupted, looking around the space. “Perhaps hidden away somewhere?”

“If that traitor were down here, rest assured, we would be enacting the most painful and twisted tortures upon—what the hell is that?”

Aziraphale looked at her innocently as he fiddled with the plastic toy he held. “Hmm, this? It’s a delightful toy humans call a Super Soaker. Very popular during the warmer months on Earth. You fill it with water and then just fire it at your friends. It’s rather delightful. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

Not waiting for an answer, Aziraphale sprayed a jet of water at the nearest demon, who immediately started screaming and smoking, melting away into a puddle of goo. The color left Shax’s already pale face and she stared at him, her mouth dropping open. Aziraphale pumped the hand grip, still smiling, though now there was coldness in his bright blue eyes.

“Now, as I mentioned before, I’m looking for Crowley. Any help you could offer would be most appreciated,” he stated.

“You’ll pay for this!” she hissed at him.

“Oh, I already have,” Aziraphale said, his pleasant smile slipping for a split second. “Crowley, where is he?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled. “Nobody does!”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! Look around if you must, but you won’t find him here. He has no place in hell, not anymore.”

Aziraphale concentrated, searching for the love that was so unique to Crowley.

There was nothing. Crowley was not here. Part of the angel was relieved, but another part of him was crestfallen. He missed the demon. More than anything, Aziraphale wanted Crowley back. He wanted Crowley more than he wanted his wings or his books.

Aziraphale sighed and lowered the super soaker. “Very well. But I don’t want any of you ever looking for him or contacting him again. Leave him be or you’ll answer to me.”

To punctuate his point, he sprayed a stream of holy water at Shax’s foot, burning her shoe. She let out a yelp and jumped up.

“Bastard!” she snapped.

“Just a bit,” Aziraphale replied. “Have I made myself clear? You will leave Crowley alone.”

“Yes, yes, fine! Just get out,” Shax spat at him.

“Wonderful. I’m glad we understand each other. Ta,” Aziraphale said. He turned and made his way out of hell. It really was a terribly dreadful place. He didn’t intend to return ever.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: A Ruckus in Heaven

The next morning, Aziraphale continued his search for Crowley. He went to the place he dreaded more than Hell. At one time in his life, he hoped that eventually it would feel like home.

After all that had happened, he knew that would never be.

Aziraphale swallowed and forced himself not to fidget as he rode the elevator up to Heaven. He could not stop his hands from shaking and his heart was starting to race. Sweat beaded on his temples. Muriel had offered to go with him, but he insisted they stay in the bookshop. If things got dicey, he didn’t want them in the crossfire. The more selfish part of him wanted Muriel to stay in the bookshop as much as possible just in case Crowley returned.

The doors slid open and Aziraphale let out a steadying breath, steeling his nerves, and stepped out into the vast lobby, making his way towards Michael’s desk. His blue eyes briefly darted to where the bodies of executed angels had been. A shudder went through him, and he continued forward. He didn’t want to be here, but he had to be sure. It’s for Crowley. I must find him. I will do anything to find my friend, my beloved. I will do anything to bring him home. He has proven time and again he will do the same for me.

Aziraphale thought back to when Crowley found him in the bookshop. His memory was very hazy of that night, but he remembered how Crowley refused to leave him. Despite the danger he was in. Had the legions caught him, Crowley would have been discorporated on the spot. Rather than save himself, the demon risked it all to save the dying angel. He had carried Aziraphale out of a burning shop into the night when the streets were crawling with legions. Despite the nervousness the demon undoubtedly felt, Crowley had still been so incredibly gentle.

Aziraphale blinked back tears, clearing his throat. He continued forward, determined.

Heaven was unusually empty. No doubt the angels were still hard at work cleaning up the mess the Metatron had made. What few angels Aziraphale passed looked shocked at his presence and quickly averted their eyes. He ignored them. He tried to sense the love that came from Crowley, but he could not.

It wasn’t long before the angel entered the vast space that was Michael’s office. The Archangel was sitting at her desk and glanced up from the file that held her attention. She did a double take, her mouth dropping open and the color draining from her face.

“Aziraphale,” she said, stunned.

“Based on your reaction, I take it you didn’t expect to see me again,” Aziraphale replied. “Yes, I am still alive. Against all odds, I survived.”

“I-I-How?” Michael sputtered. Aziraphale looked over to the large spinning globe.

“The love and devotion of a demon,” Aziraphale answered softly, briefly thinking of Crowley’s gentle touch on his back, the way the demon held him at night. Aside from physically taking care of him, Crowley had protected Aziraphale from the horrors of his memories. The angel gathered himself and looked back to the Archangel.

“I’m looking for Crowley. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie? Heaven doesn’t care about some insignificant demon. If you’re looking for Crowley, you should ask his own kind. Hell would probably have a better idea about where he is than Heaven would.”

“I’ve already been down there, and they don’t know where he is,” Aziraphale replied, feeling the stirrings of frustration. It seemed like every lead he thought of led to a dead end. Where are you Crowley?

“As I told Muriel before, I don’t know Crowley’s whereabouts,” Michael said, exasperated. “I didn’t even know he was missing. We have bigger things to worry about than some wayward demon.”

“Surely someone must have some idea where he is!” Aziraphale insisted, feeling a hint of desperation. “He fought in the great battle.”

“Not on the side of Heaven,” Michael replied. Aziraphale glared at her, not appreciating the flippant retort. He looked at the globe again, wondering if there was some way to use it to locate Crowley. He had done it before, but that had been when he had been discorporated.

“You know, if you were to take up your position again, you would have access to all of Heaven’s resources,” Michael offered.

“No,” Aziraphale said immediately, much sharper than he intended. “I want nothing more to do with Heaven or the angelic orders. I made that mistake once and I won’t make it again.”

“Aziraphale, we need help. The Metatron left the place in shambles. I’m sorry you were—”

“I was accused of one of the worst acts an angel can commit and sentenced to death without any sort of trial. He cut off my wings, right over there,” Aziraphale said coldly, nodding in the direction of where the execution stage had been. “And you stood there and watched. You and all the other Archangels. I remember, Michael. I remember how you stood over me while I lay bleeding out. I remember how you watched as Sandalphon picked up my severed wings and laid them at the Metatron’s feet. How many executions did you witness? How many more were you willing to watch mutilated? How many wings did the Metatron collect while you stood by and did nothing?”

Michael looked stunned and sat back, a hint of shame crossing her otherwise blank expression.

“I should have died that day. The only reason why I did not when so many others did was because of Crowley. A demon. He took care of me in a way the angels never could. He cleaned and dressed my wounds for over a month, stayed by my side when I lingered in a place between life and death, read to me when I could not hold a book, fed me, clothed me, comforted me as I healed. He showed more compassion and care and love than any Archangel is capable of,” Aziraphale continued. “I’m glad he didn’t take me up on my foolish offer of becoming an angel again. He’s better than that. He always has been. I only wish I understood that sooner.”

Aziraphale glanced at the globe again. He could not sense the love that was part of Crowley in this place. He wasn’t surprised. The only reason why he had come was just to be thorough, just to be certain.

The principality stood from his chair, straightening his coat. “Goodbye, Michael. I am officially resigning from the angelic orders. I want nothing more to do with the Archangels. Earth is my jurisdiction and I want it left alone.”

Aziraphale turned to leave but paused and turned back.

“And Michael, I want it known that if I discover any angel harmed Crowley in any way, I will be coming back. And my visit will be significantly less cordial. Do you understand me?”

Michael swallowed and nodded.

“Good. Make sure the other Archangels understand it too. Both Crowley and I are to be left alone, as is the Earth and the ones who call her home. Enjoy cleaning up the mess you helped create.”

Aziraphale was about to start making his way back to the elevator but sighed, his shoulders dropping. I am soft.

He twisted back to look at Michael. “I hope you are able to clean up everything with little trouble. And perhaps when all is running again, you will focus more on peace and forgiveness. I still believe that is Her will. I believe it with all my heart.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I do forgive you, Michael. I only hope you and the other Archangels can eventually forgive yourselves. Farewell.”

Then he turned and started walking back to the elevator, intending to go home. The sterile light and unpleasant brightness was beginning to get to him. As he walked, he felt eyes on his back.

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale’s skin crawled when he recognized the superficially pleasant voice. Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned to face Sandalphon, who smiled in his usual slimy manner.

“Rather surprising to see you up and about. Thought they would have burned you with the rest of the bodies. Bloody cherubs can’t do anything right, apparently.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. He had never cared for Sandalphon and was eager to never see him again.

“What are you doing up here? Looking for those pretty wings of yours? We burned them long ago, along with the wings of the other traitors.”

“I’m not a traitor, though I suspect you use that term to alleviate your own guilt over what happened,” Aziraphale said calmly. “If you will excuse me, I have other matters that require my attention.”

Aziraphale turned to continue on his way, but Sandalphon was quick to block it. The principality bit the inside of his cheek, wondering how long it would take the Archangel to get bored.

“What was the name of that redheaded demon you fancied? That creature who defiled you? Started with an M, didn’t it?”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Sandalphon, clenching his fists. The Archangel scoffed as he looked at Aziraphale with disgust.

“You didn’t even fraternize with a creature of standing, like Gabriel. You just went for a common filthy demon. Was he that good a lay?”

“You should stop talking,” Aziraphale warned. “Right now.”

Sandalphon smiled, realizing he had found a weak spot. “What’s the matter? Can’t find him? You won’t. We killed so many demons. He probably wound up on the end of my sword, just like a number of other—”

It was Aziraphale’s fist that cut off Sandalphon’s words the second time. Everything became a blur as Aziraphale punched the Archangel in the face before grabbing him by the lapels and pushing him back until he slammed him against the windows, cracking one of the enormous panes of glass. Fury blazed through him like white hot flame. He ignored the shouts of other angels, focused only on Sandalphon, who squirmed in his vice-like grasp. Blood was dripping from the Archangel’s nose and split lip, splattering on the pristine white ground.

“If I find out you harmed even a single hair on Crowley’s head, I will drag you down to the deepest depths of Hell and toss you to the demons. Let one of them make a name for themselves by tearing apart an Archangel. And I will feel not even a hint of regret. Do you hear me, Sandalphon?” Aziraphale yelled.

It was the only time Aziraphale had ever seen Sandalphon look nervous. The Archangel nodded rapidly, obviously scared. Aziraphale felt a muscle twitch ominously in his back and forced himself to remain calm. He threw Sandalphon to the ground, towering over him.

“I never liked you,” Aziraphale snapped. “You’re a bully, and you delight in the pain and suffering of those you see as beneath you. You are a…a…very bad angel. And I am glad to take my leave of you, wretched being. Stay away from me and from Crowley.”

Aziraphale straightened his jacket and turned, continuing to the elevator, quickening his pace ever so slightly. He stepped inside the car, pressing the button to send him back to the world he had grown to love. His home. Where he was going to live with the demon he loved with all his heart and soul.

He was halfway to Earth when the pain struck, driving him down to his knees with a grunt. Aziraphale gulped in air, clutching the railing in a white-knuckle grip.

“Not here, please not here,” he whimpered.

The muscles in his back spasmed, causing him to gasp. Tears welled up in his eyes and Aziraphale gritted his teeth. He slowly let out his breath, waiting for the spell to pass. For one heart stopping moment, Aziraphale felt alarmingly lightheaded. He didn’t want the other angels to know of these spells, this vulnerability.

“Crowley,” he murmured. He thought about Crowley’s touch, how attentively the demon had cared for him. How he let Aziraphale clutch his hand when the pain became too much to bear, how he always stayed nearby so Aziraphale never felt alone. That familiar sense of love.

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale imagined Crowley was there with him. If he focused, he could almost feel his gentle touch on his back. His mind drifted back to when he was recovering as he panted for breath.

**

“Your fever just broke—”

“Last week,” Aziraphale countered. Crowley ran a hand over his face in exasperation, shaking his head. The angel felt frustrated, but he quickly brushed it aside. After all they had gone through recently, Aziraphale couldn’t blame Crowley for being a little uneasy. The angel reached out and laid his hand over the demon’s.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale begged. “I cannot lay in bed forever. I need to move again.”

“Aziraphale, I—ngk,” Crowley started, visibly swallowing. He rose from the bed and started to pace the room. Aziraphale laid back, watching his friend.

“You just started getting better. Aziraphale, I’m not a healer. If something goes wrong…” Crowley trailed off and shook his head. Once again, the angel felt his heart bursting with love for the demon.

“I know you’re nervous. I am too, Crowley,” he said gently. “Believe me, I know how close I came to no longer being here and I am sorry I put you through that. You have done the impossible, and I am grateful to you, for that and for so many other things. But now this body needs to heal. I need to start getting out of bed and moving around.”

Crowley sighed, closed his eyes, and turned his face to the ceiling.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “But we start slow. Very, very slow. And if you feel even slightly off, you tell me immediately. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale nodded eagerly, feeling a little lightheaded at the rapid movement. He was positively giddy at the idea of finally being out of bed.

The demon approached him and helped him maneuver so that he was sitting up with his feet on the floor. Aziraphale winced at the sharp pain in his back, tightly gripping Crowley’s arm.

“I should like to try to stand on my own,” Aziraphale told him. Crowley nodded and stood next to him, allowing the angel to clutch his forearm. Aziraphale focused on the task at hand, drawing in a few deep breaths.

“Just take it slow, angel,” Crowley told him. Wiggling his toes, Aziraphale braced himself with his other hand and carefully pushed himself up to a standing position. He whimpered a little in pain, briefly slumping against Crowley. Swallowing, Aziraphale looked into his friend’s eyes.

“Can we try walking a bit, please?” he asked. Crowley nodded, still supporting him.

“How about to the end of the bed and back?” Crowley suggested. “Seems a good distance to start with.”

Aziraphale couldn’t hide his disappointment, even though he knew that would likely be all he could manage. Sweat was already starting to bead at his temples. Gripping Crowley’s arm, Aziraphale took a cautious awkward step forward. It made pain race up his back, but Aziraphale was determined. He took another step, his legs wobbling a little.

“Easy, easy,” Crowley encouraged softly. “You’re doing great, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale swallowed and took another step forward, when his back muscles suddenly spasmed painfully and his legs gave out. The demon easily caught him and Aziraphale pressed his head against Crowley’s chest, tightly grasping the demon’s shirt. For a moment they stood there in the warm light. Aziraphale shivered in pain, closing his eyes and cursing his weakness.

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice shaking. He looked up at his friend, his eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry I’m so weak.”

Crowley furrowed his brow and shook his head. “You’re not weak. Don’t call yourself that.”

“But I am. I’m weak and a fool. I should have known I was no match for the Metatron. It was a damn foolish plan I had and now I have made a complete mess of things and I’m too feeble to help fix it,” Aziraphale babbled. “I’m sorry.”

Crowley placed a hand on the side of his face. “What have I told you? What happened to you was not your fault. It is not your shame, it is Heaven’s. Do not absolve them of their guilt, not this time. You did nothing wrong, and you have nothing to apologize for. And you are not weak. You owe me a favor and what I want is for you to never refer to yourself with that word again.”

Aziraphale swiped away some tears. “I owe you more than one favor, Crowley.”

“Yeah, you owe me multiple apology dances, so focus on healing and recovering.”

Aziraphale let out a strangled laugh, and Crowley brushed away the rest of his tears. The angel met his gaze, the smile falling from his face.

“What if I never fully recover? What if I’m always like this?” he asked hesitantly. Crowley shrugged.

“Then we’ll adapt. Humans have figured out how to get around with all manner of mobility devices. There are canes and chairs, even motorized scooters.”

“Yellow ones?” Aziraphale asked, grinning slightly at the dry look Crowley gave him.

“Yes, Aziraphale. If you require a motorized scooter, we’ll find you a yellow one.”

The moment was interrupted when the ground shook underfoot and there was a faint rumble in the distance. Crowley swiftly wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, supporting him even more. He snapped his fingers, turning off all the lights in the house, then carried the angel over to the opposite side of the room, placing him against the wall and the chest of drawers. Aziraphale held onto him as Crowley placed himself in front of the angel.

There had been strange quakes every night that week, indicating the war being waged by Heaven and Hell was intensifying. It greatly worried Aziraphale. It was only a matter of time before the war reached their cozy little haven.

Crowley was rigid and alert, his eyes never moving from the window. Aziraphale felt a tremor go down the demon’s arm. Swallowing, he placed his hand on Crowley’s waist.

“I’m here,” Aziraphale whispered. “It’s alright.”

Crowley turned his head slightly, glancing at Aziraphale before turning his attention back to the window. Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He didn’t want to leave the small cottage, but he would if they had to. He would go anywhere Crowley went.

After a short time had passed, Crowley cautiously straightened up, snapped his fingers again, and the lights turned on. He turned around to face Aziraphale, who was leaning against the chest of drawers and the wall for support. The angel sighed and prepared himself to be carried back to the bed, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

“I have an idea,” Crowley said, standing in front of Aziraphale and holding out his arms. “Hold onto me.”

Aziraphale stared at him, startled. “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, nodding at his outstretched arms. Aziraphale did as instructed, grasping Crowley’s forearms.

“You enjoy dancing, right angel?” Crowley said. “I’m going to take a step back and you take a step forward. If you feel weak or lightheaded or in pain, lean against me. I won’t let you fall.”

“I know,” Aziraphale replied with a warm smile. He held tightly to Crowley’s arms and when the demon took a small step back, the angel took a small step forward. It still made his back ache, but it was surprisingly easier. A hesitant smile crossed Aziraphale’s lips, and he saw a similar grin on Crowley’s face. The demon took another step back and the angel took a step forward.

“I’m doing it,” Aziraphale exclaimed joyfully. “I’m walking.”

“Yes, you are,” Crowley said with a quiet laugh. “Turns might be a little tricky with this method.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Aziraphale replied confidently.

Eventually, Crowley led him back to bed and helped him lay back. Aziraphale smiled as he watched him.

“We’ll keep practicing, increase the distance and time a little bit each day,” Crowley promised as he pulled the covers up on the angel. “We’ll have you running marathons in no time at all.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. The smile fell from his face, and he looked down at his fingers, fidgeting.

“Do you really think I’m not weak?” he asked softly. Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, waiting until the angel looked at him.

“I know you’re not, Aziraphale. You are the strongest being I have every known, stronger than any Archangel or demon,” Crowley told him. “You have proven that time and time again throughout your life. And I will keep reminding you of it until it gets through that thick skull of yours.”

**

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath, grasping the handrail in the elevator.

Come on, angel. Just take a deep breath. That’s it, Crowley would likely say if he were there with him.

Stand up, Aziraphale told himself as he carefully rose to his feet, still gripping the railing tightly. He slowly let out his breath, ignoring the stabbing pains in his back. Sweat beaded at his temples and on his brow. Crowley told me I was strong, and he never lies to me. I can do this.

Aziraphale swallowed and opened his eyes again, look up at the numbers overhead. The elevator dinged and the doors easily slid open, revealing Muriel waiting for him. They smiled when they saw him, but it quickly turned into a look of concern.

“Mr. Fell, you’re so pale,” they said as they stepped inside the elevator, supporting Aziraphale and helping him exit the car.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” Aziraphale told them, breathlessly, grunting when another spasm ripped through his back. Muriel nodded and led him over to the coffee shop where there were tables and chairs. Aziraphale sighed as he sunk into a chair, briefly closing his eyes. He inhaled the fresh Earth air, which made him feel moderately better.

“I’ll get you some tea,” Muriel said before dashing off towards the shop. Aziraphale’s eyes roamed over to the café, lingering on the table where he and Crowley had sat together, back when Jim had first turned up at the bookshop. 6 shots of espresso in a big cup, Aziraphale thought, tears welling up in his eyes. He cleared his throat and pulled out his pocket watch, glancing at the time. He wanted to pop into a few shops and gather some supplies for his upcoming trip. The angel was in no particular rush, but he did want to get a wiggle on. If only his body would cooperate.

It wasn’t long before Muriel returned with a steaming mug of tea. Aziraphale was relieved to see it was in a proper mug and not a disposable cup. Since the whole mess with the Metatron and Crowley, Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to drink from one. When he did, all he could think of was the look of pain on Crowley’s eyes when he responded to the demon’s confession. The naked heartbreak on his face.

“Did the Archangels know of Crowley’s whereabouts?” Muriel asked, hopeful.

Aziraphale shook his head. “No. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or frustrated. I don’t want agents of Heaven or Hell to be able to find Crowley…but I’m afraid that means it will be harder for me to find him.”

Muriel looked a little uncomfortable. “Mr. Fell, are you certain—”

“Crowley’s alive,” Aziraphale stated with more confidence than he felt. He still had hope, but with each passing day, he began to worry. The angel wasn’t a fool. He knew there was a possibility Crowley had fallen in the final battle. But…something deep within his soul told him to keep looking.

“I believe you,” Muriel said. “I was going to ask if it’s wise to travel the universe on your own.”

Aziraphale sipped his tea. “Crowley would do the same, if the situation were reversed, and has done so in the past. I can’t just give up. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s lonely?”

“But what about your own wounds? You survived something no other angel has, sir. You very nearly died and, forgive me for saying, but you’re not entirely healed from the experience. What if you have one of your pain spells when you’re traveling?”

“It’s a risk I must take,” Aziraphale replied.

Muriel nodded. “When will you leave?”

“Likely in two weeks time, but possibly at the end of the month,” Aziraphale told them. “I will let you know when I have a better idea.”

Aziraphale wanted to leave right away, but there were still a few leads he wanted to follow up on first. And he was rather uneasy about leaving the cottage. What if Crowley returned while he was away? Aziraphale could just picture them spending the next six thousand years searching for each other.

He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky. He was looking forward to returning to the South Downs. Even being near the elevator leading upstairs made him uncomfortable.

The angel was looking forward to returning home to the cottage he shared with the demon.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Middle of the Night

More than two weeks later, Aziraphale was still chasing down leads to Crowley’s whereabouts. Every time he thought he had a promising lead, it wound up being a dead end. Aziraphale was starting to despair. Will I ever see him again?

It had been so long since the angel had felt the love that was part of the demon, and he was losing his hope that he would ever feel it again.

He regularly spoke to the Youngs. Adam and his friends, now teenagers, were constantly on the lookout for the missing demon. They even went back to the former hospital, now a paintball arena, where the infamous baby swap had taken place. Alas, there was no sign of Crowley.

One night, he received a call from a very cross Mr. Young, who demanded Aziraphale speak to Adam and tell him he couldn’t just wander onto a military base. The military police were displeased with the nosy teenagers who were caught poking around in the area. The angel readily agreed and patiently waited for Adam to pick up the phone.

“Mr. Fell?”

“Adam, you cannot investigate a military base. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but please don’t put yourself or your friends in any danger or get in trouble on my behalf,” Aziraphale tried to sound as stern as he could, rubbing his brow. “Please, stay away from military facilities and other private property.”

“Okay,” Adam agreed too quickly. Aziraphale sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Mr. Fell, we’ll stay out of trouble. But…you two saved my life and faced the devil for me. I want to find Mr. Crowley too,” Adam said gently. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. Every time he spoke to Adam, he could see his and Crowley’s influence as well as the boy’s parents. He was growing into a fine young man with a good heart.

“I know you do, and I am grateful. But try not to get arrested. I daresay your parents would be quite cross with me,” he replied, hesitating. “Did you see any sign of Crowley or clues about where he might be?”

“No, we didn’t. I’m sorry, Mr. Fell.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank, and he toyed with the corner of his vest. “It’s alright, Adam. One of us will find him, eventually.”

They exchanged a few words of parting and Aziraphale hung up the phone, running his hands over his face. He turned around and looked at the map of the world he had taped up there. He’d spent much of the past two weeks trying to figure out where Eden was located. It had been so many years and he’d completely forgotten the location of the garden. There were a few red circles around various places, locations that were important to him and Crowley.

Aziraphale picked up the phone again, scrolling through the contacts and picking out a number. He pressed call and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end answered. He smiled when he heard a child squealing in joy and Newt’s chattering in the background.

“Hello, Anathema. It’s Aziraphale,” the angel said.

“Hi Aziraphale,” Anathema greeted warmly, and the angel could hear the smile in her voice. “Any luck?”

“I’m afraid not,” Aziraphale replied. “What about you?”

“I tried scrying for several hours this afternoon. Absolutely nothing,” Anathema apologized. Aziraphale dropped his head, warmth invading his eyes. How could Crowley just disappear like this? Where was he?

“I’ll keep trying, Aziraphale,” Anathema promised. “I just…I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Thank you, Anathema,” Aziraphale said gratefully, his voice wobbling a little. “Any hope is better than none at all.”

They exchanged a few words of parting and then Aziraphale hung up the phone. He thought about everyone he had spoken to over the past two weeks: anyone Crowley might reach out to or that might be able to help find him. It was a very short list, which made the angel a little sad. Crowley was selective when it came to those he interacted with. Aziraphale had contacted all of them.

Nothing.

The angel looked over to the famed picture of him and Crowley at the magic show they had put on so many years ago. The picture Crowley had returned to him not that long ago.

“Where are you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked the picture, wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

He didn’t know where the demon could possibly have gone. What if he was badly hurt? What if he had somehow forgotten who he was, a head injury perhaps? He could be out there wandering and lonely.

What if Aziraphale couldn’t find him?

Aziraphale focused on the map of the world. He’d circled all the places he and Crowley had met over the years. The angel intended to visit every single one. And if Crowley wasn’t there, he would go searching elsewhere.

“I’ll go all the way to Alpha Centauri if I must, Crowley. I promise. I will find you again,” Aziraphale murmured. He closed his eyes, the memory of Crowley’s lips on his invading his thoughts. How he missed the demon’s golden eyes, his gentle touch, even his snark. He missed everything about Crowley and vowed to tell him when he found him again.

Moving through the cottage, Aziraphale made his way to the front window and switched on the lamp. It was a habit he had fallen into. Every night he left a light in the window. Just in case Crowley found his way back home. The angel looked out into the peaceful night outside. After a moment, he turned away from the window.

Please come back, Crowley. I need you.

_*_

In the middle of the night, Aziraphale was awoken from a deep sleep by a quiet sound. He cracked open an eye, wondering what that had been. It sounded vaguely like the door opening, but that was impossible. He’d locked the door, as he did every night. Briefly debating getting up to investigate, the angel closed his eyes again, pulling the blankets up more. He would deal with it in the morning, whatever it was. Aziraphale had a long day ahead of him tomorrow and he intended to get a good night’s sleep. He soon fell asleep again and was surrounded by a sense of love. It was so familiar…

A sudden weight collapsing next to him woke Aziraphale fully and he let out a shout of surprise, springing from the bed. He fumbled in the dark, switching on the lamp and yanking it off the table, holding it aloft as he prepared to confront the intruder, whoever or whatever it was.

The warm lighting spilled on Crowley, who was laying on his stomach on the bed. He was wearing his usual dark clothes but had shed his jacket and shoes. Aziraphale froze, scared to believe his eyes. It seemed like time stopped for a moment.

Then Crowley scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brow.

“Turn off the bloody light, angel. I’m tired,” he grumbled.

It was him! It was really him!

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, not bothering to hide the tears that spilled down his face as he put the lamp back on the table. He gathered the demon in his arms and showered his head and face with kisses. The angel’s heart was practically bursting with joy as he relished in the familiar warmth of the demon he held in his arms. The soft red hair that brushed against his cheek. The faint subtle scent that was so uniquely Crowley. He hugged Crowley tightly, never wanting to let go. He ignored the faint ache that raced through his still healing back. God, thank you. Thank you. Thank you for his return.

“Thank the heavens,” Aziraphale said, still holding and kissing Crowley. “I was so worried, Crowley. I didn’t know where you were. Nobody could find you. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Before Aziraphale could hold him at arm’s length and look him over, Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, burying his face in the angel’s neck. Aziraphale was a little startled, but swiftly and instinctively wrapped his arms around the demon, embracing him. A tremor went through Crowley, and he was breathing a little heavily, as though trying not to cry.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, worried. And then he thought about it. Crowley had been through hell in the months leading up to the attempted second coming. First, Aziraphale had left for Heaven after Crowley declared his love for him, after they had shared a kiss. Then, Crowley found the angel, the one he loved more than anyone, near death in the bookshop. He fought for more than a month to pull him through what should have killed the angel (the whole time believing he was going to lose his friend forever). After he pulled Aziraphale back from the brink of death, Crowley had gone off to war, to save the world they loved so much. Not knowing if he would return.

The poor demon was probably exhausted in every way imaginable.

“Oh. Oh, it’s okay, darling. I’m here,” Aziraphale murmured, rubbing the demon’s back. “Shh. Let’s just sit for a moment.”

Crowley held him for a moment more, sniffling. Then he hesitantly released the angel.

“Put me down. I haven’t slept since the damn battle,” Crowley muttered, his voice muffled by Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale humored him, as he reluctantly let go of the demon. Crowley sat back against the headboard, looking over to the angel with tired eyes. Aziraphale’s heart fluttered as he gazed upon the demon. His heart was so full, and it took everything in him not to gather Crowley in his arms again.

“Where have you been? I was worried,” Aziraphale said as they sat side by side. Crowley yawned.

“Had to wrap up some loose ends,” he replied vaguely. “Took a bit longer than expected.”

“I searched everywhere for you. I went to Heaven and Hell.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes, arching an eyebrow. “You went to Hell? Again?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being imprisoned down there,” Aziraphale replied, blushing slightly. “I fear I was a little cruel.”

Crowley’s eyes opened a little more. “Oh?”

“I brought a super soaker with me,” Aziraphale admitted. “Filled with…holy water. I ruined Shax’s shoe.”

Crowley burst out laughing. He all but doubled over. Aziraphale smiled, he did love seeing the demon happy. He had greatly missed Crowley’s laugh.

“You must be really fond of me,” the demon teased, glancing at the angel.

The angel couldn’t resist leaning forward and gently kissing the demon. Oh how he had wanted to do this the entire time Crowley had been away. He was relieved when Crowley returned his passion, obviously having missed Aziraphale. The angel could feel the love of the demon wash over him. The kiss was warm and tender, two souls who had missed each other and were now finally reunited. Together as was always meant to be. It was a kiss of joy.

“I always have been,” Aziraphale murmured when he sat back. Crowley’s smile became a little more subtle.

“I resigned from Heaven. I told them Earth was my home and I wanted nothing more to do with them,” Aziraphale told him. Crowley stared at him, his face unreadable.

“How’d they take it?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “About as well as can be expected. But I’m officially free, which is what matters. No more angelic orders.”

“And…how do you feel about it?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure. Relieved, obviously, but well, I had always hoped Heaven would be something different. I dedicated my life to the ineffable plan, sacrificed so much for it, and I still believe in Her. I thought Heaven could change, work to serve humanity,” Aziraphale said. “I think a part of me will always grieve the loss, but I know I’m happier on Earth. With you.”

Crowley leaned more against him, leaning his head against Aziraphale’s and the angel relished the feeling. How he had missed the demon.

“It hurts at first,” Crowley told him. “But it fades eventually. You realize that you appreciate Earth even more. This beautiful messy place will always feel like home.”

Aziraphale grinned, reaching out and intertwining his fingers with Crowley’s. For a moment, they just sat quietly. The sounds of the night were soothing to the two celestial beings, who had finally reunited.

“I’m afraid I caused a bit of a stir when I was leaving Heaven,” Aziraphale admitted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Crowley straightened up a bit so he could look at his friend.

“Oh?” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I struck Sandalphon,” Aziraphale told him, blushing. Crowley’s mouth dropped open, amusement twinkling in his tired gold eyes.

“You what?” he asked, trying to suppress his laughter. “You slapped him?”

“Punched, actually.”

Crowley chuckled. “Oh, Heaven must have loved that. What could he possibly have done to elicit such a response? Other than just being Sandalphon.”

“He implied,” Aziraphale paused, suddenly regretting bringing it up.

“Yes?”

Aziraphale sighed. “He implied that he had harmed you.”

Crowley threw back his head and laughed. “You punched an Archangel to avenge me? I’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, shocked. Crowley smirked at him.

“Sandalphon had it coming, angel. I envy you. Would have loved to have hit the bastard myself.”

Aziraphale shook his head, though he couldn’t hide his smile. He rotated one of his shoulders, his back starting to feel a little stiff. The movement did not escape Crowley’s sharp eyes.

“How is your back?” he asked.

“Still rather sensitive, I’m afraid. But my wings have started to grow back,” Aziraphale replied. He extended his small healing wings, grimacing a little. “Rather ridiculous looking at the moment, but they’re healing. They’re growing back, just like you said they would.”

“Good. They will be proper sized before you know it,” Crowley said. “I would like to look at them in the daylight, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Aziraphale replied. “Is there anything you would like for breakfast? I have a bit of everything at the moment. I was planning to travel the globe to find you.”

Crowley yawned again, shaking his head as he tried to keep his eyes open. He was obviously exhausted. Aziraphale ran a hand down his cheek, smiling when Crowley leaned slightly toward his touch. He turned his head a little so he could kiss Aziraphale’s palm.

“We can speak more in the morning,” Aziraphale told him, and Crowley nodded. The angel reached over and switched off the lamp, laying back. Crowley laid with his head on the angel’s chest, curling up slightly and sighing. The angel smiled warmly and wrapped his arms around demon, which seemed to relax him more.

“Thank you for coming back, Crowley.”

“Told you I would,” Crowley murmured. “Goodnight, angel.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Crowley.”

It was the first time in quite a while that Aziraphale didn’t have any trouble falling asleep.

_*_

When the sun rose the next day, it painted the sky with brilliant shades of purple and pink. The gentle light of the dawn illuminated the peacefully sleeping angel and demon. It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing, and wind swept softly through the grass outside.

Aziraphale slowly woke up when he felt rustling beside him. He blinked a few times and immediately looked over at Crowley. The demon was mumbling in his sleep, and his form was rigid. Crowley’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped sharply. He immediately looked over to Aziraphale, relaxing a little. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

“I was wondering if I would wake up alone,” Crowley murmured. It was meant as a joke, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt in his heart. Pushing it aside, he wrapped an arm around Crowley.

“I love you,” he whispered, gently kissing his cheek. He repeated the words as he kissed Crowley’s temple, again when he kissed his brow, his eyelids, his nose and finally Crowley’s lips.

“I love you, Crowley,” he murmured, nuzzling the demon. “I promise, I won’t leave again. And if ever we are separated or if I am wounded in some way, I will fight with everything in me to return to you. I won’t give up. I hope one day you will believe me.”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked over at Aziraphale, smiling a little. “I do, angel. And I…ngk.”

The demon looked frustrated as the words caught in his throat. Aziraphale could practically read the self-condemnation in his friend’s form. No, none of that, my love, the angel thought. He wrapped his arms around Crowley, gently embracing him.

“Shh, you don’t need to say it. Not until you feel ready and comfortable. I don’t need to hear the words. Your actions speak much louder than words. Having you here with me is enough.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, holding Crowley close, intending to go back to sleep. A moment passed and then he felt Crowley press his lips against his brow and then his lips.

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley mumbled, pulling the covers up more. Aziraphale smiled and nestled against Crowley’s chest, his heart warming.

They fell back asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Healing Together

Aziraphale and Crowley slept the entire day after the demon’s return, wrapped in each other’s arms. It was the best rest they had ever experienced. Aziraphale awoke briefly in the afternoon and called their friends, informing them that Crowley had returned safely, and they were going to spend a few days just the two of them. Everyone was ecstatic to hear about Crowley’s return and Aziraphale had a feeling they would have to drop by for some visits, which warmed his heart. Once he finished his calls, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley again and fell back asleep, a soft smile on his face.

The following morning, Aziraphale woke before Crowley. He lay on his side, studying Crowley’s peacefully sleeping face. The angel was holding the demon’s hand, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. How he loved the feeling of Crowley’s hand within his own. He still had trouble believing this was real. Aziraphale had been so scared of waking up and finding the previous nights had been a beautiful dream. He had been overjoyed when he saw Crowley beside him. He briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the familiar sense of love that surrounded him. Crowley really was back.

Though his heart was still filled with joy, the logical part of Aziraphale was worried. He was worried about the Metatron’s disappearance. Had Crowley had something to do with it? Had he killed the high-ranking angel?

No. Crowley was many things, but he wasn’t a killer. And he wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t risk bringing Heaven’s Wrath down upon his head, knowing it would affect Aziraphale too. He knew Aziraphale would eventually find him, and the angel would never leave his side. He would face any danger with him. And Aziraphale would share in any punishment.

But the angel suspected Crowley knew what had become of the Metatron.

He will tell me when he’s ready. Right now, he needs to rest, Aziraphale thought as he leaned forward and kissed Crowley. A faint smile danced across Crowley’s face.

“Morning,” he murmured sleepily without opening his eyes.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied. He couldn’t stop smiling. They could finally be together without fear. They could kiss and cuddle and sleep in the same bed and live in the same house without the constant fear of their respective sides finding out. He was going to wake up every single day next to Crowley.

They were free of Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale rested his brow against Crowley’s, his hand resting on the demon’s side. “I have dreamed about this for so many years, sometimes without realizing it. We can be together, just the two of us.”

“Mmhm,” Crowley replied. That subtle smile never wavered. Aziraphale beamed as he closed his eyes. He never realized one could be so happy.

Some time passed, and Aziraphale just enjoyed the coziness of the bed, as well as Crowley’s warmth beside him. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right with the world. The demon sighed in his sleep, pulling up the covers more and snuggling closer to the angel. Aziraphale opened his eyes again, noticing the light spilling through the blinds.

“We should get up,” Aziraphale said.

“Too comfortable,” Crowley replied. “We should definitely stay in bed.”

“Crowley, it’s almost afternoon,” Aziraphale told him. “We have been in bed for hours.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Crowley practically whined.

Aziraphale snickered and kissed Crowley’s nose.

“I’m going to make us some breakfast,” Aziraphale began. Crowley groaned and held the angel tighter, snuggling closer, grasping his arm.

“Stay in bed with me,” he mumbled, still not opening his eyes. Aziraphale kissed him again.

“Darling, I’m hungry and I’m sure you must be as well,” he said.

“‘M not,” Crowley replied stubbornly. “Bed’s comfortable. Stay.”

Aziraphale ran the backs of his fingers down Crowley’s cheek. “It would mean a great deal to me if I could make breakfast for us.”

Crowley sighed and reluctantly released Aziraphale. “Alright, angel.”

“If you like, we can have breakfast in bed. I’m more than happy to make something simple and bring it in here," Aziraphale offered.

Crowley yawned and rolled onto his back. “No, it’s alright. I’ll get up and we can eat in the kitchen.”

Aziraphale gently kissed his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when the food is ready.”

Crowley nodded, still smiling, and soon fell back asleep. Aziraphale pushed himself up to a seated position and stood from the bed. He pulled the blankets up on Crowley, making sure he was warm. “I shall take care of you the way you have always taken care of me,” Aziraphale silently promised the demon as he kissed Crowley’s brow.

He stepped out of the room and made his way to the kitchen. Putting a kettle on, the angel moved to the fridge and examined what ingredients he had. Thankfully, he had gone shopping the previous day and had a little bit of everything. After all, the angel had been preparing to travel the world to find the demon.

“Let’s see. What would he like for breakfast?” Aziraphale murmured to himself. Of course, he knew. Crowley tended to gravitate more towards savory foods. Grabbing a carton of eggs and a package of sausages and some cheese, Aziraphale moved over to the stove and started preparing breakfast.

The angel enjoyed cooking, which was similar to magic. He enjoyed gathering ingredients and combining them to create delicious dishes. And, as a principality, it felt like another way to fulfill his duties to Earth and those who called her home. He loved preparing food for others, especially for his friends. And he had a knack for it. His dishes left guests feeling full but not uncomfortable and it seemed to make their problems and stresses disappear if only temporarily.

“Are we expecting guests?”

Aziraphale jumped a little and looked over to where Crowley was standing, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. The demon smirked, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. He did love the rare occasions when Crowley looked content. He hoped they would be more common now that they were free.

“I thought you were going to sleep a little longer,” Aziraphale said, checking the omelet on the stove. It was almost finished.

“I was going to,” Crowley replied. “Something smells rather nice, figured I’d wander in and see what was for breakfast.”

“Nothing fancy, just a regular ordinary breakfast,” Aziraphale said as he turned to the cabinets, opening them and grabbing a couple plates. “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I made a bit of everything.”

“Is that an espresso machine?” Crowley asked.

“Mmhm. You enjoy espresso, so I figured it would be worthwhile to get one. Nina helped me pick one out. This is apparently top of the line.” Aziraphale replied. “Would you like a cup?”

Crowley was examining the machine, grinning. “Definitely, but a little later. I think I shall have coffee with breakfast today.”

“The brewer is over there, and the coffee is in that cupboard behind you,” Aziraphale gestured as he returned to the stove.

It wasn’t long before the two were sitting across from each other at their kitchen table, with plates of delicious food in front of them. Crowley grinned as he watched Aziraphale enjoy his breakfast. It was blissfully quiet. The birds were singing their sweet songs outside. The weather was perfect. Spring had just begun, and they had opened the windows to let in the fresh air. The faint smell of numerous flowers was carried in on the breeze.

The angel dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

“So the war is over? It’s really over?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded, sipping his coffee.

“Apparently, God and Satan came to an agreement. Humanity is to be spared, Earth is to be left alone, aside from the occasional temptation or blessing,” Crowley replied. “Their spats are going to be confined to Heaven and Hell. No more using the world as a battleground.”

“Good,” Aziraphale said softly. “Good.”

Crowley reached across the table and placed his hand over Aziraphale’s. “It’s not much comfort, after everything you went through, but the Metatron has been removed from his position and banished from Heaven. He will never harm you again.”

Aziraphale’s eyes welled up with tears and he swallowed, gently grasping Crowley’s hand. For a moment, they just sat in a comfortable quiet.

“Oh, before I forget,” Crowley said, fishing around in his pocket and producing a silver coin. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Ah, you found it.”

Crowley smirked. “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly. “Of course, Crowley. Oh, I have something to tell you!”

“Yes?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale beamed.

“I performed a miracle! When I went to Hell, I was able to heal a demon’s pain. I know, I know,” Aziraphale said at Crowley’s questioning look. “But he was in so much pain, Crowley. We have run into him a time or two in the past and he’s harmless—”

“You still don’t have your miracle ability?” Crowley asked, concerned. Aziraphale shook his head, grinning.

“No, but that’s to be expected,” he replied as he picked up his fork and speared some food onto it. “But Crowley, it’s coming back. I can do small miracles. I’ve been practicing a little every day and I expect I will be able to perform full miracles again by next year.”

Crowley grinned widely. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The angel winced and dropped his fork when a sharp pain suddenly went through his back. Rubbing his shoulder and sucking in his breath, he wondered how long the spells of pain would last. He knew it was possible he would always experience them, but he hoped it would at least become less frequent.

“Aziraphale?”

Crowley swiftly got to his feet and moved over to the angel’s side.

“I’m alright,” Aziraphale reassured the demon as he gently lifted the collar of the angel’s shirt. Crowley knelt beside the angel, searching his face.

“Muriel mentioned you were still experiencing back pain.”

“Muriel? When did you see them?” Aziraphale asked, wincing as the muscles in his back seized up painfully.

“Stayed with them for a bit before I came here,” Crowley replied vaguely, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. “Aziraphale, are you still having pain in your back?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale admitted. “But it’s infrequent and never lasts very long. Please do not worry too much, dear. I’m fine.”

Crowley still looked concerned and offered his hand, which Aziraphale immediately grasped.

“May I have a look at your back and wings later? For my peace of mind?” the demon asked as he rose to his feet. He moved back to his chair, sitting down again.

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed. “Maggie and Nina were a great comfort while you were away. They helped me immensely.”

Crowley grinned. “They are resourceful humans and I imagine they were welcomed company.”

“They were, but I still missed you. Every day you were gone,” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley pushed some food around on his plate, smiling softly.

“I missed you too, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale looked around the small cottage. “So, what next?”

“Well, I think we have earned a really long rest,” Crowley replied. “Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

Aziraphale smiled. “We’ll figure it out together.”

_*_

Later that afternoon, Aziraphale was laying shirtless in bed while Crowley examined his back. The angel was resting his chin on his arms, which were folded in front of him. A smile danced over his lips as Crowley’s gentle hands roamed over his back. While he was still self-conscious about his scars and the state of his wings, feeling Crowley’s love made the angel feel safe and comfortable.

“Is it quite a gruesome sight?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“Nah, nothing gruesome about you, angel,” Crowley replied. “There are a few scars, but that shows you have a story. The muscles are a little tight. Here, let me try something.”

Crowley started gently kneading the muscles, working out the knots. Aziraphale groaned softly and turned his head to one side. Crowley’s touch felt heavenly and alleviated whatever tension was in his shoulders. He smiled, enjoying the moment.

“This is a marvelous skill you have kept hidden, dear,” Aziraphale mumbled. He heard Crowley laugh softly.

“A useful talent I picked up during a temptation in Persia,” Crowley replied, pausing. “Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“I would like to look at your wings, but it doesn’t have to be today. If you’re uncomfortable, after everything that happened,” Crowley said, a bit hurriedly. Aziraphale sat up, twisting around and kissing Crowley. The demon smiled as he sunk into the kiss, cradling the back of the angel’s head.

“I trust you, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, resting his brow against Crowley’s, enjoying the feeling of Crowley’s fingers in his hair, massaging his head. “I always have.”

Then, the angel laid back down again and extended his small wings. There was no one else he would feel comfortable revealing his healing wings to. He swallowed when he thought back to the day they were severed, a shiver going through his body.

“Are you alright, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“They look good. They’re healing,” Crowley told him. “I’m going to touch them, alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale consented.

“Let me know if it gets to be too much or you want me to stop.”

“I will.”

Crowley gently touched one wing, running his fingers along the feathers. Aziraphale shivered in pleasure. Crowley’s hands were so warm and soft. His touch was soothing.

“What color are they?” Aziraphale asked. “I haven’t been able to look at them very much.”

“Kind of a sandy blond, almost caramel colored,” Crowley replied. “They will likely lighten up as they continue growing. Chances are they will be as snowy white as ever. They still have streaks of gold in them.”

Aziraphale smiled, turning his head a little. “I don’t think anyone ever noticed that about my wings.”

“It’s unique,” Crowley said. “I noticed it when we met in Eden. It suits you.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes as Crowley continued massaging his wings, gently stretching and folding them, checking their range of motion. It felt heavenly.

“Well, they’re healing beautifully, even better than I thought they would. Do they cause you any discomfort?”

“Occasionally they cramp up, which is to be expected,” Aziraphale responded, shivering a little. “Oh, please, do that again.”

He could practically feel Crowley smirking as he obliged the angel. Aziraphale groaned, enjoying the sensation that traveled through him. His back felt better than it had in some time.

“If you like, I can do this regularly,” Crowley offered. “Might help with the episodes of pain you have been experiencing.”

“I would love that, dear,” Aziraphale replied. “It feels wonderful.”

A comfortable silence fell between them. Once Crowley finished massaging his wings, Aziraphale sat up and retrieved his shirt.

“Where were you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, curiously, as he buttoned up his shirt. “I know you said you were tying up loose ends, but I went to Heaven and Hell. I could not sense you anywhere.”

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I wandered around for a while. After the big final brouhaha, I rested and recovered with Beelzebub and Gabriel. They decided to stick around for a bit after the end of the war. After parting ways with them, I ended up back in London because I can’t seem to escape the damn place. I stayed with Muriel in the bookshop, helped them rebuild the place.”

Aziraphale leaned back against Crowley, who wrapped an arm around him.

“You rebuilt the bookshop?” Aziraphale asked, his heart practically bursting with love.

“Eh, I helped a bit. It has always been…cozy. I hated seeing it in shambles.”

Aziraphale kissed his arm, stroking it. “I should like to see it again, someday.”

He felt Crowley kiss the side of his head. “I’ll drive you back, whenever you’re ready. We’ll make a day of it.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I was in London. Were you there?”

“I was,” Crowley answered hesitantly. “I was in the bookshop. I was concealing myself.”

Aziraphale turned slightly. “From me?”

Crowley looked uncomfortable, swallowing. “Among others. I didn’t…I wasn’t sure if…”

The demon looked away, his lips clamping shut. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt, but he pushed it aside. He came back, that’s all that matters. That’s all I care about. We can work everything out now that we’re together.

“What made you decide to come back?” he asked. Crowley let out a huff of a laugh, looking down briefly as a smile danced across his lips.

“It’s a funny story, if you would like to hear it,” he said.

“I would love to, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied with a grin.

“Well, I was staying with Muriel, obviously,” Crowley began. “They kept trying to convince me to return here, but I ignored them. Until one day…”

*

Crowley hadn’t planned to stay in the bookshop after helping rebuild it. He was going to leave once it was restored to its original state. Muriel had somehow convinced him to stay. Every time he was getting ready to leave, they would think of another reason he needed to stay. As much as he hated to admit it, it was nice to have a place to stay that felt warm and inviting. It was interesting to see how Muriel was making the shop their home.

There was just one space he couldn’t bear to see: the spot where he had found Aziraphale bleeding to death on a stormy night some time ago. The memory of that harrowing night, of feeling Aziraphale’s hot blood spilling on his hands as he had bandaged the wounds, how pale his friend had been, how much pain he had been in, still haunted Crowley. He’d lost count of how many nightmares he’d had of that night.

The demon avoided the windows and didn’t leave the shop. He occasionally glanced outside, just to watch the people on the sidewalks. It was nice to see the population gradually grow again as more and more people returned to the city. It began to look a little more like the place he had once called home. Watching the humans regain some sense of normalcy made Crowley smile. It had been worth it, saving this beautiful world. It was home.

Then one day, he glanced out the window and saw the Bentley.

Crowley swiftly dropped to the ground, closing his eyes and hoping he hadn’t been spotted. The window was opened a crack, and he could hear the voices of Maggie and Nina. Then he heard a familiar voice. Aziraphale. Tears welled up in the demon’s eyes and he closed his eyes, thumping his head back against the wall, staying hidden, his heart aching with longing.

In his mind, he imagined the angel he loved with all his heart and soul. Alive, likely right across the street. Crowley opened his eyes again, glancing at the blinds to make sure they were closed. He crawled over to the bed, climbed into it, and swiftly fell asleep.

A few weeks passed and Muriel kept trying to broach the topic of Aziraphale, but Crowley would always shoot them down. He didn’t want to hear about what the angel was up to.

Then one day, Muriel went out, which wasn’t uncommon. Crowley was bored and decided to go down to the main part of the shop to get a book to read or flip through. As he cautiously made his way down the stairs, he looked around the shop and out the windows, checking to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted. When he was satisfied that he had a window of opportunity, Crowley swiftly descended the rest of the stairs and started looking through the shelves.

He soon found a book that looked interesting and stepped out into the main part of the bookshop, intending to bring it back to the room upstairs. He saw a spot of blue out of the corner of his eye and turned his head, freezing when he saw the blonde woman standing there.

Tears welled up in Maggie’s eyes and she looked just as startled to see him. Her lower lip trembled, and she covered her mouth with her hands, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

Crowley remained still as stone, barely even blinking. He swallowed, watching the woman, wondering if he should speak first. In the back of his mind, he was a little annoyed at being caught off guard by a human.

“Um,” he finally started. “I don’t suppose I can convince you this is just a dream and I’m not really here.”

Maggie swiftly closed the space between them, wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. The demon was so shocked he almost stumbled back. Maggie was crying quietly, her embrace tightening.

“Oh, we’re hugging. It’s a hugging moment,” Crowley said, a little uncomfortable.

“Mr. Crowley, you had us so worried,” Maggie cried. “We didn’t know where you were. We have been looking for you for weeks. I thought something terrible had happened.”

“Erm,” Crowley replied, gently patting her shoulder, unsure what else to do. “There, there, no need to cry, human. I’m alive and well.”

The door was thrown open, and a furious Nina stood in the entrance of the shop, holding a cup, glaring at the demon.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Six shots in a big cup? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know that damn order!?” she asked, sounding accusatory. She stormed over to him and wrapped her arms around the baffled demon.

“Dammit, Muriel,” Crowley grumbled, tossing the book he had retrieved over to the nearest table so he could wrap his arm around Nina. The recording angel soon appeared in the doorway. Crowley glared at them, and they offered an apologetic smile and wave, though they still looked rather pleased. Eventually, and much to the demon’s relief, the women stepped out of the hug.

“Have you spoken with Mr. Fell yet? He’s been worried sick about you,” Maggie told him, swiping her tears away. “We got him a phone when we moved back here. Muriel has the number.”

“No, not yet. I’m, uh,” Crowley replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I’m going to.”

“What?” Nina asked, sounding just as stunned as her partner looked. “You went through all that, practically begged us to make sure he would be okay, and you’re not sure if you’re going to talk to him again? Did you hit your head during a battle or are you just an arsehole?”

“I mean…I haven’t decided what I’m going to do or where I’m going to go. I will call him eventually,” Crowley said. “But I just…I need some time.”

“You can’t let him keep wondering what happened to you. After all he’s been through. That’s cruel,” Maggie sounded horrified. “Mr. Fell loves you.”

Crowley cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “I was standing right over there, the first time I confessed my feelings to him, right before he decided to leave for Heaven. When he chose Heaven over me, over us.”

“And he came back, didn’t he?” Nina pointed out.

“He was dying and delirious,” Crowley shot back.

“He fought with all his strength to return to this shop and to you because that’s what matters most to him. He was dying and all he wanted was to be in your arms,” Maggie countered. “Mr. Crowley, trust me, Mr. Fell loves you with all his heart and he just wants you to come home.”

“I don’t have one of those.”

“Yes, you do. It’s a cottage in the South Downs with the angel who is waiting for you,” Maggie replied, looking over her shoulder. “I have to get back to the shop, but I’m coming back at close and I’m bringing you home.”

She turned and strode out of the shop. Crowley bristled, crossing his arms over his chest. Nina patted his shoulder, smiling sympathetically.

“Good to have you back, Mr. Crowley. Give Mr. Fell my love,” she said as she turned and followed her partner out of the bookshop. Crowley ran his hands over his face, irritation creeping up on him. Muriel timidly approached the demon.

“Are you mad?” they asked. Crowley looked over at them, raising an eyebrow. After a moment, he shook his head and retrieved the book he’d come downstairs for.

“They’re right, you know,” Muriel stated, making Crowley pause. “I know…I know you were hurt by Aziraphale going to Heaven with the Metatron, but he went to protect this world, to protect all of us, including you. He’s a principality, that’s what they do. You love him, so you must have known that.

“And he came back, Mr. Crowley. Aziraphale was dying and he chose to return here. He came back to spend what little time he thought he had left with you, because you mean the most to him. Because he loves you. And I don’t think you would have fought as hard as you did to save his life if some part of you didn’t understand that.”

Crowley sighed. He ran a hand over his face.

“Mr. Crowley, please. Go to Mr. Fell. You two belong with each other. You are soulmates and I know you’re smart enough to realize that.”

The demon dropped his shoulders. “Well, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. That blonde human took on a legion of demons. I’m certainly not foolish enough to challenge her will.”

He offered Muriel a small half smile. “I’m not mad, kid.”

The recording angel beamed and closed the distance between them, ignoring Crowley’s protests as they wrapped their arms around him.

“Humans do this. It’s called hugging and it’s delightful.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.

*

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, angel. I know you’re probably—”

He didn’t get out another word as Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly.

“Crowley,” he murmured. “I don’t care how long it took. All that matters is that you’re here now. I’m just happy you came home.”

Crowley hugged him back. “Of course, Aziraphale. All I ever wanted was to spend eternity together. I just…I wasn’t sure if you wanted the same.”

Aziraphale pulled out of the hug and captured Crowley’s lips with his own. He could feel a rush of love from the demon, and it made his heart flutter.

“Oh Crowley,” he said warmly. “I just always assumed we would spend our lives together. I could not imagine a life without you, nor do I want to.”

The demon smiled and closed his eyes, resting his brow against Aziraphale’s. The angel grinned, savoring the moment. He looked to the side, noticing the beautiful weather.

“It’s such a lovely day. How about we sit out front?”

Crowley nodded, offering his hand. Aziraphale accepted it, reaching to the side and grabbing a book from the bedside table. It was going to be a very good day.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Visiting a Friend

“You should get married!”

It was the first time Aziraphale spit out tea, he was so startled by Muriel’s sudden excited declaration. He and Crowley were sitting on the lounge in Aziraphale’s old bookshop. The demon was stretched out, his legs resting on Aziraphale’s lap, while the angel was sitting upright as he normally did. Crowley looked from Muriel over to Aziraphale, a faint hint of amusement dancing across his otherwise bored expression. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” Aziraphale warned, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks. Crowley snickered as he laid back, crossing his arms over his chest.

The two were visiting Muriel as they regularly did. For the first month after Crowley’s return, he and Aziraphale remained in the South Downs. It was a peaceful existence. Aziraphale regularly read a book on the porch while Crowley lounged next to him, usually with his legs in Aziraphale’s lap. They had planted a garden and regularly tended to it together. They shared meals, taking turns cooking and cleaning up. Their smiles were frequent and regular. Living together proved to be good for them. Crowley and Aziraphale were happier than they had ever been.

The angel still experienced intense nightmares about the botched execution and all that had happened in Heaven. Crowley regularly woke up to his partner thrashing about in his sleep, often crying and begging for help. The demon did his best to comfort the frightened angel, holding him close and reassuring him they were safe, and all was well. Being near Crowley helped a great deal and Aziraphale often fell back asleep wrapped in his lover’s arms.

Crowley made sure he was with Aziraphale whenever the angel wanted to rest. Even if he wanted a simple catnap, the demon would curl up with him on the couch. Aziraphale found sleep came easy when his dark protector was by his side. He knew they were safe when he felt Crowley’s arms around him.

Eventually, the angel started confiding in the demon about everything that had happened in Heaven. Crowley would sit beside him, listening. He never reacted, which was a relief to Aziraphale. It was hard enough coming to terms with everything, all the conflicting emotions he felt about it. Aziraphale needed someone to listen and was grateful when Crowley did just that. Sometimes Aziraphale was angry, sometimes he was sad, sometimes he was frustrated because he didn’t know how he felt. But Crowley always sat with him, letting him work through whatever he was feeling or experiencing, letting the angel tell him what he needed.

There were times when Aziraphale just needed Crowley to hold him, when he just desperately needed to feel the love that was part of the demon. Sometimes, his memories were too horrific to speak aloud and Aziraphale needed to be held, to remind himself the horrible memories were in the past. And the demon always obliged. No matter what he was doing, Crowley would drop everything and hold Aziraphale for as long as the angel needed.

Aziraphale hoped he did the same for Crowley. There had been a few nights when the angel had awoken to find the demon muttering in his sleep, shivering imperceptibly. Instinctively, Aziraphale would wrap his arms around Crowley and hold him close. It seemed to soothe the demon and he frequently slept more peacefully afterwards.

While he didn’t need comforting as frequently as Aziraphale, Crowley still needed it. He found it significantly more difficult to ask for it, especially out loud, but Aziraphale had known him long enough to be able to read his partner. Whenever Crowley was irritable, Aziraphale was patient. When he needed space, Aziraphale respected that. There were times when Aziraphale was reading, and Crowley would sit next to him and lean against him. Without looking up from his book, Aziraphale would wrap an arm around his lover and interlace their fingers.

They had their own secret language that they were both fluent in and they didn’t always need words to communicate with each other.

Eventually, they both needed a change of scenery. They loved their home, but they also missed their friends. Aziraphale suggested they visit London to see Muriel, Maggie, and Nina. Crowley made a big show of it being a hassle but, in the end, he stayed true to his word and brought Aziraphale to London. The trip was enjoyable, and they decided to make regular trips to the city.

“Well, that’s the tradition on Earth, isn’t it? When you’re in love, you get married, right?” Muriel continued excitedly, looking between the two. They were practically vibrating with excitement. Their face was as bright as their smile.

“They have a point, angel,” Crowley teased. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think either of us needs or wants the approval of Her,” he pointed out. “Besides, such ceremonies are held on consecrated grounds and the last time you entered a church, you had blisters on your feet for over a week.”

“Bah,” Crowley waved a hand. “It was nothing. The foot bath you gave me set me right.”

Aziraphale gave him a look of exasperation, to which he smiled.

“It doesn’t have to be denominational or on consecrated ground,” Muriel eagerly told them, rising from their seat and hurrying over to one of the shelves. “I have been reading up on Earth matrimonial ceremonies and there are so many different sorts. Heaven doesn’t need to be part of it at all. It can be anything you want it to be, however simple or elaborate.”

They returned with a thick book and sat between the two, perched on the edge of the lounge. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, who was peering at the book with interest. The angel smiled. He still couldn’t believe he got to spend the rest of his life with his amazing partner, the demon who loved him more than perhaps anyone had ever been loved.

Sipping his tea, Aziraphale looked at the book. There were beautiful pictures in woodlands and cities. Muriel was right: marriage and weddings were so diverse on the planet. It no longer had to involve religion of any kind.

“Oh, I have another book upstairs. I’ll be right back,” Muriel declared as they popped up and dashed off. The two watched them go, smiling.

“They are rather excitable, aren’t they?” Crowley mentioned. “It’s endearing.”

“Crowley, if I didn’t know better, I would think you had befriended another angel. Perhaps were even fond of them,” Aziraphale teased. “I never thought I would see the day.”

Crowley harrumphed. “They remind me of you. Another book-loving angel who can find trouble almost anywhere. I’m shocked they haven’t started practicing human magic.”

“You certainly seem to have a type,” Aziraphale mentioned slyly. Crowley side-eyed him and the angel smirked. He did enjoy teasing the demon.

“Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I won’t tell a soul.”

The demon laid back, relaxing. Aziraphale put his empty teacup off to the side. He rubbed Crowley’s shin; in a way he knew the demon enjoyed. Crowley let out a soft groan of pleasure, relaxing even more. Aziraphale smiled as he watched Crowley’s face.

“You know, we don’t need to have any kind of official ceremony or anything like that. Marriage is not something I need,” he started carefully, and Crowley looked at him. “I mean, obviously, if you were open to such a thing, I would be as well, but I don’t need it. As long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

A half smile perked up one corner of the demon’s lips. “Did you just propose to me, angel?”

“No. No, I certainly did not.”

“Shouldn’t you be down on one knee?”

“I just want to let you know that if you wanted to, I would happily marry you.”

Crowley’s smile widened. “You are proposing, you old romantic. Afraid of living in sin? Trying to make an honest demon of me?”

“Oh god.”

“Uh oh, taking the lord’s name in vain. That’s what you get for laying with a demon,” Crowley continued to tease. The angel rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. I brought this on myself, he thought.

“I’m not proposing, not exactly,” Aziraphale insisted. “I just…I want to know if it’s something you wanted.”

Crowley’s smile became a little more subtle and he looked contemplative. He swung his legs down and sat up, reclining back in the lounge.

“I hadn’t really thought of it if I’m being honest. I’m not averse to the idea, provided it be for us and not in the eyes of you know who,” Crowley said, with a small shrug. “I’m always up for a party with free-flowing quality alcohol. And it would give you the opportunity to dance again.”

Aziraphale felt warmth spreading in his chest and leaned over, kissing Crowley. He still thanked the heavens they could be affectionate with each other without fear of consequences or repercussions. They no longer had to hide their love.

“Are we doing this?” Crowley asked, sounding amused. Aziraphale leaned against him, interlacing his fingers with Crowley’s.

“Yes, I think we are,” he replied. They both glanced up when Muriel reappeared with a stack of books. They were chattering, excitedly.

“Muriel?” Aziraphale interrupted and the younger angel looked up. Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who grinned and nodded. Aziraphale looked back to the angel.

“How would you feel about officiating our wedding?” Aziraphale asked. Muriel’s eyes widened and they looked between the two.

“Oh! Really!? Me!?” they asked, their hands flying to their face as they dropped all the books they had been carrying, which made Aziraphale wince. “Yes, of course I will! Oh, I have so much to do. Have you decided on a theme? Or a location? Oh, I have to figure out what to wear.”

Muriel scurried off, still talking even as they disappeared among the bookshelves. Both Crowley and Aziraphale shared a chuckle.

“I suppose we will have to start planning,” Aziraphale mentioned. Crowley groaned.

“Do we have to plan? Can’t it just be a regular get-together here? Or by the duck pond?” Crowley groused.

“The duck pond? You want to get married at the duck pond?”

“What’s wrong with the duck pond?”

“If we do that, we’ll have to get a permit.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale stared at the demon, exasperated. “Because it’s the law.”

“Bah, human law,” Crowley replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I would prefer we not get arrested while getting married.”

“Might be fun. Handcuffs and all,” Crowley said, grinning. Aziraphale side eyed him, which only made him smile wider.

“We’re not getting married at the duck pond,” Aziraphale said. Crowley scowled.

“Alright, angel. What are you thinking? A museum? A library? The site where the library of Alexandria once stood?”

“What about the South Downs?”

Crowley looked surprised. “The South Downs? Our South Downs?”

Aziraphale nodded, looking around. “It’s where we’re both most comfortable. There’s plenty of land. It’s where we’re making our home together.”

Crowley nodded and Aziraphale smiled widely, pleased his partner agreed.

“But we’ll still need to do some planning,” Aziraphale pointed out. Crowley groaned, rolling his head back.

“It doesn’t have to be elaborate, but we should still make some plans,” Aziraphale added, drawing the demon’s attention again. “We do want it to be nice gathering. There must be hors d’oeuvres and cake. The food simply must be perfect.”

He noticed Crowley grinning faintly, which warmed the angel’s heart.

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley leaned forward, kissing Aziraphale. The angel smiled. He loved how Crowley cradled the back of his head when they kissed. He loved the feeling of Crowley’s lips on his, how tenderly he kissed the angel. He loved how easily his hand rested on Crowley’s side, how perfectly they fit together as if they had been made for each other.

When they pulled apart, Crowley was still grinning. Aziraphale intertwined his fingers with Crowley’s. The warm light of the sun glistened around them, highlighting their surroundings with a beautiful glow. It truly was a perfect day.

“I love you,” Aziraphale murmured.

“I love you too,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale beamed, enjoying hearing those words from Crowley. Even though he had always been able to sense the love that radiated from Crowley, hearing him say the words was joyous. It reminded the angel of how long they had known each other, loved each other, and traveled together.

“We can honeymoon in Alpha Centauri,” the angel murmured. The demon smiled practically from ear to ear.

“I would like that,” he agreed, his eyes sparkling like the stars he loved so much. It was one of the most beautiful sights Aziraphale had ever seen.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Unseen Scars

Crowley slowly woke up, yawning. He frowned when he saw the empty space beside him, Aziraphale’s spot. Odd, the angel had been there when they went to bed. They always went to bed together and usually fell asleep curled up in each other’s arms. A faint spike of worry went through the demon as he looked around the room, murmuring Aziraphale’s name. He quickly got out of bed and went to the room door, opening it.

He spotted the faint warm light almost immediately, just down the hall. It was coming from the main room. Yawning again, Crowley sauntered over to the doorway. Relief flooded through him when he saw the angel sitting on the couch, reading a book. At least, he appeared to be reading. His gaze was distant, and he wasn’t turning any pages, indicating he was lost in thought. Crowley’s sharp eyes picked up the faint tremor in his hand.

“You know, if you have a bad dream, you only have to wake me,” Crowley said as he leaned against the doorframe. Aziraphale shook his head and looked up at his partner, smiling faintly. The warm lighting danced on his reading spectacles.

“Oh, hello dear,” he said, closing his book. “I didn’t have a bad dream. I just…I couldn’t sleep. Probably all the wedding planning. It’s all so exciting, but it does wind me up a bit. Thought I might read a little.”

“Your hands are shaking, angel,” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale put the book to the side, taking off his spectacles and putting them next to the book.

“I’m just…” Aziraphale trailed off and swallowed, tugging at his fingers. “I don’t know.”

Crowley felt an ache in his heart. Aziraphale had always been so resilient, so full of hope and joy and wonderment. Earlier in the morning, he had been smiling and giddy, going through all the plans for their upcoming wedding. To see him like this, anxious and sad and hurting, broke the demon’s heart.

“Will you come back to bed? Please?”

Aziraphale offered him a watery smile. “I just want to read a bit more. I shall be in shortly.”

He picked up the book and opened it, turning his eyes back to the pages. Crowley rubbed the back of his neck.

“Then…can I stay in here with you? Until you’re ready to come back to bed?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale looked a little surprised. Crowley didn’t miss the brief flash of hope and relief in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes, of course. If you wish to,” Aziraphale answered.

Crowley crossed the room and laid on the couch, his head in Aziraphale’s lap. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, sleep already creeping back up on him. Soon, he felt Aziraphale run his hand through his red hair. Crowley noticed that when his partner was particularly anxious, he needed to physically touch something. It wasn’t unusual for Aziraphale to put a hand on Crowley’s arm or hold his hand. Crowley smiled softly, enjoying the angel’s gentle touch.

**

“Well, this place has changed quite a bit from the last time we were here. What was it? A hundred or so years ago?”

Crowley looked around the Louvre, scrunching up his nose a little. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the new look. Seemed a little bland.

“I believe so,” Aziraphale answered, jumping a little when some tourists passed by behind them. He was clinging to Crowley’s arm, as he had been ever since they arrived. He was particularly nervous whenever there was someone behind them.

“Do we have to see the Mona Lisa? It’s such a dull painting, not Da Vinci’s best by any stretch of the imagination,” Crowley said as he moved forward. “I don’t understand the humans’ obsession with it.”

“No, of course not,” Aziraphale replied, clutching his arm a little tighter when a child let out a scream somewhere nearby.

“Good. Let’s go to the Grande Galerie. We can see the ancient things and statues on our way out. Probably saw most of those damn things being…carved?”

“Sculpted, I believe,” Aziraphale said, smiling when they passed by a group of school children listening intently to their teacher. Crowley grinned, pleased when Aziraphale’s grip eased up a little. He continued leading him through the Grand Galerie, pausing every time Aziraphale’s gait slowed.

The museums were just starting to welcome visitors again after the great war and attempted second coming. The demon had noticed how his partner’s eyes lit up when Muriel was telling them all about a recent visit they had taken to the Louvre, insisting that Aziraphale go.

“Oh, the paintings are beautiful, Mr. Fell. The humans are so talented, and they create the most wonderful art.”

Seeing Aziraphale’s wistful expression gave Crowley an idea. Earlier, the demon had been speaking with Maggie. She brought up how Aziraphale still seemed quite on edge, and Crowley confessed his partner still had trying days. She suggested it might be helpful to bring him to places he enjoyed. “The worst thing is to let him isolate himself. Isolation will inhibit his healing.”

Crowley had considered arguing, but he looked behind him to where Aziraphale was looking at records, noticing the angel had practically pressed himself into a corner to avoid being seen. Crowley thought back to how Aziraphale had placed himself in front of the humans to protect them during the ball. Aziraphale who had always loved to talk to humans, to immerse himself in their strange ways. Who loved to go out to restaurants and shops and museums and libraries.

When was the last time he had visited any of those?

So Crowley drove them to Paris for a trip to the Louvre, excited to bring his friend to a place he knew the angel loved.

Aziraphale jumped when an older couple passed by them, clutching Crowley’s arm tightly and pulling him out of his thoughts. The demon pretended not to notice as he looked up at a massive painting in front of them.

“This wasn’t here last time,” he mentioned. “What do you think?”

Aziraphale looked up at it. “Um, I like it. The colors and the composition are lovely. The Italian Renaissance truly was an amazing period.”

Aziraphale winced when there was another screech, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Crowley felt a tremor go through him. The crowds were starting to get larger, and he suspected they were getting closer to where the Mona Lisa was. Nobody else would notice the angel’s discomfort. He was frighteningly good at hiding it. “Must be exhausting,” Crowley thought, spotting an opening through the visitors.

“Come on, angel. Let’s go see the sculptures. It’s a bit quieter there.”

Aziraphale nodded, still clutching Crowley’s arm as they made their way out of the enormous Galerie. His grip relaxed again once they were in a quieter hall. Crowley led him down to the lower floor. There was the muted murmuring of the crowds, but it was significantly quieter.

The demon brought him to a sculpture he knew they both enjoyed: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss. It was a truly exquisite piece. Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, smiling when he saw the happiness in his beautiful blue eyes. Some of the tension left his shoulders and his breathing was a little easier. “There we go,” Crowley thought.

“It’s always smaller than I expect it to be,” Crowley mentioned.

“But no less beautiful,” Aziraphale added, a soft smile dancing across his lips. He took a step forward, not releasing Crowley’s arm, and the demon followed, so Aziraphale didn’t have to let go of him. The angel briefly closed his eyes, a look of contentment on his face.

“It still feels like love,” Aziraphale murmured.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale looked over at him, noticing he was clutching Crowley’s arm.

“Oh!” he yelped as he let go of the demon. “Crowley, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t grasping you too tightly, I hope.”

“Aziraphale, it’s alright,” Crowley reassured him. Aziraphale looked down at his feet, tugging at his fingers, obviously embarrassed.

“I was clinging to you the whole time, wasn’t I?” he muttered, looking around and shuddering when another child squealed somewhere nearby. “I’m sorry, Crowley. I don’t—”

“You need to stop apologizing, Aziraphale,” Crowley said gently, waiting for the angel to look up again. “If I had been uncomfortable, do you think I would have been silent about it? Do I ever not say something about things I find irritating?”

Aziraphale swallowed, fidgeting even more. Crowley took his hands within his own, gently kissing them.

“It’s okay, angel. You have been through a lot, more than anyone should ever have to go through. You are still healing, as you will be for some time to come, but you shouldn’t cut yourself off from the things that make you happy. I want to bring you to places you enjoy, and if you need to hold onto me to feel safe, you can. I don’t mind at all.”

Aziraphale smiled shakily at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

Crowley grinned and offered his elbow, and Aziraphale held onto it again. The angel rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley gently kissed his soft white curls, then turned his attention back to the sculpture in front of them.

Aziraphale sighed softly, and Crowley looked over at him. He could sense the angel was starting to get tired. It had been quite a long day. Aziraphale looked over at him and Crowley nodded over his shoulder, leading the angel toward the exit. Aziraphale looked grateful, following the demon toward the doors. He paused and looked over at Crowley.

“Crowley, could we perhaps get some crepes before we return home?”

Crowley smiled. “Of course, angel.”

_*_

When Crowley woke up, they were still on the couch, but Aziraphale had put the book away and was now staring at the windows. His eyes were welling with tears, his hand resting on Crowley’s chest. He looked so tired. Crowley sat up drawing Aziraphale’s attention to him. He gently intertwined their fingers.

“Did you sleep at all?” Crowley asked. The angel shook his head, turning his eyes back to the windows.

“It’s so sunny outside. I used to love sunny days,” Aziraphale said, still looking out the window. “It always reminded me of Heaven.”

He looked away from the window, dropping his face to his hand. “Now all I can think about is the blood on the tiles, the pile of severed wings, the…oh God.”

Crowley swiftly wrapped his arms around the angel, allowing Aziraphale to lean on his chest.

“I couldn’t help them, Crowley. I couldn’t save them,” Aziraphale cried. “And if I couldn’t save fellow angels, how could I save anyone else?”

“But you did. You saved plenty, Aziraphale. You sabotaged so many schemes, held off the second coming, all on your own, for months. You successfully protected Earth and all the lives within it.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Aziraphale mumbled.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s soft white curls, comforting him as best he could. “It was, I promise you it was.”

Aziraphale shivered, clinging to the demon. Crowley continued to hold him.

“Do you know what sunny days remind me of?” he asked softly.

“The nebulas?” Aziraphale guessed, sniffling.

Crowley smiled. “No. The garden, where we reunited.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, smiling faintly. “Oh, that’s lovely. Eden truly was a beautiful place. I wish we could visit it.”

“We could,” Crowley said. “If you really wanted to.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t know if I could bear to be in a place that is so connected to Heaven, not soon anyway.”

Crowley nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “That makes sense to me.”

Aziraphale stroked the demon’s chest. “I spoke to God just outside the wall, you know.”

“About the missing sword?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale laughed quietly.

“Yes, she wanted to know where it was. I thought up with some lie,” Aziraphale admitted sheepishly. Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle at the visual of his angel lying to God. He usually got adorably flustered whenever he had to bend the truth.

Aziraphale sighed and reclined back further. “All I ever wanted was to protect this beautiful place and the wonderful beings who call her home. I truly believed that was Heaven’s purpose. What an utter fool I was.”

“You’re not a fool, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, shaking his head when the angel looked over at him. “You never have been. You see the best in everyone and perhaps that makes you vulnerable every now and again, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. The world could use more vulnerability.”

Aziraphale curled up more against Crowley’s side. The demon snuggled with him. How he loved the angel, with all his heart and soul. He loved Aziraphale more than he thought himself capable of loving another. Crowley would have done anything to take away the pain and sadness Aziraphale was experiencing. He kissed the angel’s brow.

“How about I make breakfast this morning?” he offered. “I’ll make your favorite.”

“Oh, I appreciate that, but you made breakfast and dinner yesterday,” Aziraphale said, straightening up and wiping away the tears from his eyes. “I’m alright, dear.”

Crowley placed a gentle hand on the side of his face. “Aziraphale, please? You don’t always have to be strong, not with me. Let me take care of you.”

Aziraphale smiled faintly and pressed a kiss into Crowley’s palm. “I love you so much, Crowley.”

“I love you too,” Crowley said before gently kissing his partner then guiding him to lay down. Snapping his fingers, he conjured a pillow and a blanket, which he draped over the angel.

“Comfortable?” he asked and Aziraphale nodded. “Good. Rest and I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you, Crowley.”

The demon offered him a soft smile, then stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Aziraphale typically did the cooking and Crowley would do the washing up. The angel loved taking care of Crowley and delighted in cooking. Aziraphale had found a second calling being in the kitchen. He was positively giddy when Crowley surprised him with a vegetable garden. The demon was researching how to grow fruits. He had already decided to get some apple trees, maybe a pomegranate one as well. Crowley did love a good pomegranate.

As he went into the cupboard and retrieved all the ingredients he would need for crepes, Crowley considered what Aziraphale would want with them.

“Well, I know he prefers sweet to savory,” Crowley said to himself, before calling out, “Aziraphale?”

“There are fresh berries and jam in the refrigerator,” Aziraphale’s voice called from the front room.

“Easy enough,” Crowley said to himself as he turned his attention back to the ingredients in front of him. He gritted his teeth. He was a halfway decent cook, but it was not his strong suit. With a sigh, he started measuring out ingredients. As he began mixing, the demon’s thoughts drifted back to his last trip to Hell, shortly after the big final battle.

**

The demon sat in an uncomfortable rickety chair, waiting patiently. He hated this place with every fiber of his being, but he had one last loose end that needed to be tied up. It was one he would enjoy.

It wasn’t long before he heard the rattle of manacles. The door across from him opened and Crowley kept his gaze forward. He was doing his best to keep his wits about him. He needed to remain calm and not give in to his burning desire to dismember the prisoner he was here to see.

The angel still had the appearance of a harmless old man with deceptively kind violet eyes. His face was slightly bruised, and his clothing was dirty and rumpled, but he still glowed and held himself confidently. He even smiled politely at Crowley as he made his way to the table and sat down gingerly. The demons who had brought him in kept a safe distance from him, still intimidated by an angel of such high stature, even a disgraced one.

The Metatron watched as the burly demon guards left the grimy room, waiting for the door to close before turning his violet eyes back to Crowley.

“You survived. I must admit, I’m rather surprised. The young are always so reckless,” the Metatron remarked. Crowley remained silent, his eyes never moving from him.

“You’re looking for Aziraphale, I imagine. I regret to inform you that you are too late. Aziraphale is dead, executed for the crime of treason,” the Metatron continued, having the audacity to look regretful. “It was a shame. He had so much potential in his younger years, before getting mixed up with you.”

Crowley remained silent, barely moving a muscle. How he hated the bastard. It was taking every ounce of strength in his wiry body not to lunge across the table and strangle him with his own manacles. He could still hear Aziraphale’s cries of pain as he fought for his life, often trembling in Crowley’s arms. The demon had been unable to alleviate his friend’s pain. Every single night, Crowley was terrified it would be Aziraphale’s last.

“It would please you to know he declared his love for you, before the sentence was passed,” the Metatron stated, and Crowley shifted his position a little. “Gave a quaint speech about love. He knew he was sealing his fate, openly declaring his affection for a demon, but he did it anyway. Rather foolish if you ask me. No demon is worth dying for.

“Death was by wing severance. It took forty-seven strokes on each wing to remove it. I’m afraid it was quite a painful experience and Aziraphale was awake throughout. Judging from his cries, he felt every stroke. It was only when we were halfway through removing the second wing that he finally succumbed to his wounds. Perhaps it would offer you some comfort to know that Aziraphale died with your name on his lips.”

Crowley swallowed but forced himself to remain as still as stone, still watching the Metatron, who folded his hands on the table.

“The body was cremated with the rest of the traitors. As I said, it was regrettable that it had to be done, but traitors must be dealt with.”

The Metatron looked to Crowley, waiting for him to speak. Crowley said nothing, just continued watching him. In his mind, he was imagining his hands wrapped around the man’s neck, throttling the life out of him. Even that would be too merciful a death for him.

“Nothing to say, demon? You surprise me again. I thought for certain you would have some venom to spit at me. Even in your short time as an angel, you had a protective nature. Have you lost that over the years? Or perhaps Aziraphale didn’t mean much to you?”

Crowly blinked and picked at a bit of lint on his knee, brushing it away with a sweep of his hand.

“Cremation, you say? I imagine someone of your high ranking wouldn’t get your hands dirty with such a filthy task. You would assign it to some of your underlings who were scared shitless of you, so scared they might bend the truth should something go wrong,” Crowley remarked easily. “Should something or someone go missing, for example.”

The Metatron didn’t respond, merely sat across from the demon. Crowley smiled briefly, a feral unsettling smile.

“You know, originally, I was planning on killing you. Working in Hell for so many years, you pick up a few things, whether you want to or not. I had a plan, I knew what I was going to do, and up until you walked through that door, I didn’t waver from it,” Crowley continued, leaning back slightly. “But…Aziraphale would never want that. No matter how villainous and sadistic and cruel a monster like you might be. He would never want your life taken, even if you tortured him and did your damndest to end him in the most painful way imaginable. He has always been better than all of us.”

The Metatron smiled. “I’ve lived much longer than you, demon. Your lies don’t scare me.”

“Aziraphale survived, Metatron. Against all odds, he still lives, and he is the only reason why you are alive right now.”

“He could not have possibly survived. Divine Retribution was invoked. No angel can survive that,” the Metatron replied, still maddeningly confident. “You are lying.”

“I have no reason to.”

“You are a demon. You are nothing but filthy vermin meant to sow evil and discord.”

“Yet of the two of us, I’m not the one who tortures others and believes it to be justice. I have never hacked off an angel’s wings,” Crowley pointed out easily. The Metatron sneered at him.

Crowley removed his sunglasses and glared at the Metatron. “I will not kill you, even though you tortured and almost killed my only friend. I’m not going to lay a finger on you. I’m going to leave you here, in Hell, where you will be confined to the deepest depths and spend eternity, locked away and forgotten. The angels have already struck your name from their files. You are nothing and nobody, insignificant. You will never hurt Aziraphale or anyone else ever again. I can think of no better punishment. A monster among demons, it’s almost poetic.”

Crowley once again leaned back, relaxed. “I did have one question for you. Just something that has been bothering me for a bit. Did you always intend to execute Aziraphale? Were you always intending to kill my friend?”

The Metatron appeared thoughtful. “Many of us suspected there was some kind of peculiar bond between you two. We ignored it, assuming it was merely a passing infatuation. Then the whole hullaballoo with the antichrist occurred and you two managed to thwart the will of Heaven and Hell. That was followed by the incident with Gabriel and that miracle you two performed. It was decided that such a power could not be allowed to continue.”

“Decided by who?” Crowley asked. The Metatron merely smiled, folding his hands in front of him. Crowley shook his head. The Archangels, cagey bastards the lot of them.

“Continue,” he said, eager to finish the conversation so he could leave.

“We knew the two of you would not willingly separate, nor would simply separating you suffice. At least one of you had to die. Aziraphale has always been an idealist to the point of being a fool and principalities are predictable. It was easy to lure him to Heaven. The humans have a very colorful turn of phrase: a lamb to slaughter,” the disgraced angel continued, pausing briefly before chuckling. “The fool really thought he could interfere with the ineffable plan. When he was caught, he looked so startled, so frightened, I almost felt pity for him. As I did when he wept when that first stroke fell upon his wing. He must have been terrified, crying your name over and over again.”

Crowley glared at him.

“You’re a sadistic bastard,” he growled.

The Metatron leaned forward. “I knew you would never follow him. The others worried about you going with him, but I knew you would never willingly return to heaven. You claim to care for Aziraphale, as if a demon were capable of such a thing, but you could not see past your hatred. Your hatred of us blinded you to the danger towards your friend.”

“And your arrogance blinded you to his strength and resilience,” Crowley replied calmly. “You angels love to look down on the demons in Hell with your holier-than-thou smugness. They are monsters, cruel and selfish. But you angels, you’re just as sadistic and monstrous as anything you’d find down here. Honestly, Metatron, you’ll fit right in.”

Crowley stood up and slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. He turned to leave.

“Even if he did survive, he would be permanently damaged,” the Metatron said. “The war may have gone your way, but you still lost him. He would never be the angel he once was. Aziraphale would always bear the scars of this experience and the memories. He would always be broken.”

Crowley turned around, leaning back against the door. “I will love him all the same, as he has loved me. I will love and accept him in a way that Heaven never would. I will respect him in a way angels never have. Aziraphale is stronger than you know, and he will heal from the hell you put him through. I shall always be by his side, to help him whenever he needs it. You did not take his life, his love, or his hope. You never could. Enjoy eternity in squalor and filth.”

Crowley pounded twice on the door, signaling that he was done with the disgraced angel.

“If he truly lived, then why are you not with him?” the Metatron asked innocently. The question hurt more than Crowley expected. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to flinch.

“What is that crude phrase humans are so fond of using? Damaged goods?” the Metatron continued.

Crowley turned and approached the table again, leaning down on his fists.

“Before you go, there’s just one more thing I want you to know. The heavenly elevator angels are so fond of using, the pristine one you took my friend up in,” Crowley started. “Aziraphale and I fucked in it. Twice. Best romp I ever had.”

He leaned back, grinning from ear to ear, waving as the demons came and took the short man away. Crowley turned and made his way out of Hell for hopefully the last time, allowing himself a little chuckle.

**

Crowley snickered as he recalled Aziraphale’s reaction when he had told him of the meeting. The angel had turned bright red with embarrassment and hid his face. It had been rather amusing.

A shrill beeping drew him out of his thoughts and Crowley looked to the crepe pan, where smoke was billowing up.

“Shit! Fuck!” the demon swore, turning down the burner and putting a pan lid over the burnt crepe.

“Crowley? Are you alright?” Aziraphale’s concerned voice came from the front room. “What happened?”

“Nothing, angel. I just got distracted,” Crowley said, hurrying over to the window and pulling it open. Using a towel, he fanned the smoke until the alarm stopped going off.

“Are you sure?”

“Everything is fine, Aziraphale. I was just remembering telling the Metatron about the elevator,” Crowley replied. He heard a softly muttered, “Oh good lord” and couldn’t help but chuckle again, turning his attention back to making breakfast.

Two smoke alarms and a few burned crepes later, Crowley called Aziraphale into the kitchen. The angel stepped into the doorway and stared at the mess by the stove.

“Don’t worry about it, angel. I will clean it up later,” Crowley told him as he placed a plate by Aziraphale’s spot and another by his own. “I made plenty, so eat your fill.”

Aziraphale smiled and sat in his usual spot with Crowley sitting across from him. The demon watched him, waiting for the angel to take his first bite. They were probably the best crepes Crowley had ever made and he was excited for Aziraphale to enjoy them.

To his disappointment, Aziraphale merely pushed the food around on his plate. Crowley studied his face, noticing his sorrowful expression. He tilted his head a little, trying to meet Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Angel?”

“Why me?”

He was so focused on the angel that Crowley almost missed the question. He frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. Aziraphale swallowed, tears welling in his eyes.

“Why did the Metatron target me, Crowley? Why did none of the other angels speak up? I thought at the very least someone would say what was happening was wrong, but no one did.”

“Oh angel,” Crowley said gently, reaching across the table and gently taking Aziraphale’s hand.

“I don’t understand why no one would listen. Angels are supposed to listen, we’re supposed to love. At least that’s what I always thought.”

Crowley stood up and moved over to Aziraphale’s side, wrapping his arms around the trembling angel, and holding him. Aziraphale clung to him, as he had so many nights before.

“Shh, it’s alright. You’re alright,” he murmured calmly.

“He cut off my wings and no one said anything, no one helped me. I was so alone,” Aziraphale’s voice was shaking. Crowley closed his eyes, gently cradling Aziraphale’s head, kissing the top of it. Once again, he regretted not discorporating the Metatron in Hell. He could have done it, easily, and gotten away with it. He should have.

But…it would have further upset Aziraphale. Crowley would never do anything that upset his partner, not intentionally. Especially not after all Aziraphale had been through. If Crowley had his say, Aziraphale would spend all eternity wanting for nothing. He knew it was going to take a very long time for the angel to heal and he was determined to keep Aziraphale as comfortable as possible.

“I think I know a reason why the Metatron targeted you,” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale sniffled and looked up at him.

“Crowley, no. It wasn’t because of you,” he quickly protested. Crowley squinted at him.

“That wasn’t what I was going to…I mean, it was probably one reason why,” Crowley stuttered. “But no, that wasn’t the reason I was thinking of.”

“No, of course not,” Aziraphale said, brushing away some tears that escaped his eyes. “What were you going to say?”

“I think he targeted you because of your ability to love unconditionally. Aziraphale, you have a morality that almost no other angel has, you have never gone in lockstep with the ineffable plan especially when doing so would hurt people. And it’s because unlike most angels, you empathize with others, because you can love,” Crowley explained. “I think the Metatron saw that as a threat, but I also think he hated it because he could never experience it. You have something he does not, something he perhaps wanted, and maybe felt threatened by. If he couldn’t take it, the only action left was to destroy it.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, stunned. Crowley rubbed his back.

“I’m glad Muriel was assigned to Earth because they have a similar capacity to love, and I don’t doubt that they were next on his list to be dealt with.”

The angel nodded, his arms still wrapped around Crowley. The demon held him, gently stroking his back and waiting for him to let go. Eventually Aziraphale did and Crowley returned to his seat, pleased when Aziraphale picked up his knife and fork and started cutting up his crepes. He placed a bite in his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring every moment.

“Oh Crowley, this is delicious,” Aziraphale complimented. “These are as good as the ones we had in France.”

Crowley beamed, pleased with himself. He looked at his own plate and started pushing the crepes around.

“Crowley?”

Crowley looked up at his friend’s hesitant voice.

“What if…what if my wings hadn’t grown back?” Aziraphale asked cautiously. Crowley frowned, confused.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he admitted.

“If my wings hadn’t grown back, would it have changed anything? Between us, I mean.”

Crowley squinted at him. “Are you seriously asking me if…? The Archangels really did a number on you, didn’t they? No, Aziraphale. You not having wings would not have changed anything between us. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think they would grow back.”

Aziraphale looked stunned. “But…you said—”

“You were dying, Aziraphale. I didn’t know if you would make it through the night. I knew you were scared and in pain, so I did my best to comfort you,” Crowley explained, feeling a little uncomfortable. “No angel has ever survived their wings being removed, as you insisted on reminding me. I knew there was a good chance I was going to lose you, but I wasn’t going to let you go without a fight. Hell, I wasn’t sure if you would ever be able to move without pain again. I just took things one day at a time.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly, thinking for a moment, a soft smile dancing across his lips. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough, Crowley.”

Crowley shrugged. “That’s what you do for someone you love. You take care of them. You would do and have done the same for me plenty of times throughout the years.”

Aziraphale smiled and turned his attention back to his food, taking another bite, which he enjoyed just as much as the first. Crowley smiled, enjoying watching Aziraphale eat.

After breakfast, Crowley went out into the backyard to where they had put up a greenhouse for his plants. The cottage had begun to feel cramped with Aziraphale’s numerous books and Crowley’s numerous plants, so they had constructed (with a miracle or two from Crowley) a small greenhouse. To the demon’s surprise, the angel asked if he might help with the upkeep of the plants.

“I understand if it’s something you like to do on your own, but, well,” Aziraphale could not stop fidgeting. “I took care of your plants while you were gone, and I found it to be rather calming. I quite enjoyed it. I understand why you keep them. But if you prefer to do it alone, I will happily focus on the vegetable garden.”

Crowley took a hold of his hand. “Angel, of course you can help me with the plants. I always welcome your company.”

Aziraphale’s eyes had sparkled like newly formed stars and a familiar bright smile had spread across his face. It warmed Crowley’s heart.

He quickly gave up shouting at the plants after seeing Aziraphale go white as a sheet when he raised his voice. Crowley thought the angel was going to pass out and immediately went to his side, feeling guilty for startling his partner. Once Aziraphale had snapped out of the daze he was in, he helped prune and water the plants, even though he was still trembling a little.

Crowley hadn’t raised his voice around Aziraphale since that day.

“Should we perhaps get more plants?” Aziraphale asked, clasping his hands behind his back. Crowley shrugged.

“I would like to get a few fruit trees, maybe grow some berries too,” Crowley answered. “That way you can make pies and jams and pastries. And I could have fresh fruit whenever I wanted.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly. “I would like that.”

They reached the greenhouse and Crowley opened the door, holding it for Aziraphale, who was carrying a basket with all the things Crowley used to take care of the plants. He placed it on the small bench just inside the door.

“Crowley?”

“Oh no,” Crowley said as he reached in the basket and pulled out his spray bottle. He approached the first plant and began spritzing it. He hated to admit it, but the plants looked healthier since he stopped screaming at them. It was so annoying when Aziraphale was right.

“What?”

“That tone. That’s your ‘I’ve done something that will upset you or am about to’ tone,” Crowley replied, his focus still on the plants. “What did you do, Aziraphale?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale protested. “It’s just…I have a request of you that I know you’re not going to like, and I want to explain my reasoning first. But I want your word you will remain calm.”

Crowley paused and slowly leaned out from behind the plants so he could see Aziraphale. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Go on,” he said.

“Do I have your word?” Aziraphale pressed.

“You do,” Crowley replied. “What are you hiding, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale shifted his weight, uneasy. “As I told you, after the final battle, I went to Heaven while I was searching for you. I forgave the Archangels—”

“You what!?” Crowley said, grabbing the spray bottle and storming over to Aziraphale, spritzing him in the face with water. “No, angel. No forgiving attempted murder.”

Aziraphale stared at him, unamused. “Are you done?”

Crowley scowled and put the spritz bottle off to the side. Aziraphale took out his handkerchief and wiped the water off his face.

“I didn’t do it for them, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, picking up the spritz bottle and moving over to a plant, spraying it with water. “I did it for myself. I didn’t want to dwell in the past, not when I had just been given my future back.”

“Well, I hope you don’t expect the same of me,” Crowley grumbled. “I will never forgive any of those bastards for what they did to you. Not to mention what they were planning to do to the world.”

“That is your decision, and I will not attempt to convince you to do otherwise,” Aziraphale replied, handing the spritz bottle back to Crowley.

“So, what is your request then?” Crowley asked as he moved further down the table to another plant, watering it. He saw Aziraphale follow him.

“I want to see the Metatron,” Aziraphale started, and Crowley’s eyes immediately snapped over to him.

“Absolutely not,” Crowley replied instantly.

“Crowley, I’m merely seeking closure.”

“Aziraphale, no. It’s out of the question,” Crowley replied. “You would have to go through so many hoops. You would have to get permission from Heaven and Hell.”

“I have,” Aziraphale said quietly. Crowley stared at him, and Aziraphale tugged at his fingers, looking to his feet. Crowley wanted to yell and scream, shake some sense into the angel. He wanted to storm back to the cottage, slam the door and not speak to Aziraphale for the rest of the year. How is he this clever and this bloody stupid?

But as he looked at Aziraphale, how uncertain he looked, Crowley felt his shoulders drop. They were still working on the whole communication thing and were getting much better at it. Crowley had almost lost Aziraphale not that long ago. He never wanted that to happen again.

Crowley took a deep breath. “Let’s go inside and talk more in there.”

Aziraphale nodded and followed Crowley back to the front of the greenhouse, retrieving the basket. Crowley tossed the spritz bottle into it and made his way outside into their backyard, holding open the door for Aziraphale.

They crossed the yard and reentered their cozy cottage. Crowley put the plant supplies off to the side and watched as Aziraphale went to the kitchen table, sitting down. He made his way over to his usual spot and sat in his chair.

“If you already have permission, then why not just go on your own?” Crowley asked.

“Because…” Aziraphale trailed off and swallowed, gathering himself. “Because I don’t think I can do this without you, Crowley. I’m scared and you make me feel safe. We have always worked better when we worked together. I don’t want to keep secrets from you. If I had gone on my own, I know you would have been furious, rightfully so.”

Crowley drummed his fingers on the table. “Can’t you just write a letter? That Archangel tried to murder you, Aziraphale. You still have nightmares, and the experience still affects you. What if this hurts you even more?”

“It is a risk,” Aziraphale agreed. “I know it sounds absurd, but…I cannot live in fear, Crowley. I need to face him.”

Crowley was quiet for a moment. “And what if it doesn’t give you the closure you’re hoping for?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It might not, but if I forgive him, then my conscience will be clear.”

The demon sighed, running his hands over his face. He hated this idea, hated the potential harm it could do to Aziraphale, but he knew his partner. He knew how much this meant to him. And Crowley didn’t want him to go on his own.

“I take it your request mentioned me,” Crowley said. “I’m not exactly in Hell’s good graces.”

“Of course. I would never ask you to accompany me if I suspected you might be hurt or held against your will,” Aziraphale told him sincerely. Crowley lounged back in the chair, studying Aziraphale. The angel continued fidgeting.

“I realize I am asking you a lot, perhaps more than I should. I hope you trust me enough to help me, but I understand if that is not the case,” Aziraphale said softly. “I could really use your help.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to go back to Hell. He never wanted to see that wretched place ever again. Glancing at the angel, Crowley thought about all Aziraphale had told him about what happened in Heaven. How they had spilled his blood on that pristine floor, how scared Aziraphale had been.

The demon didn’t want his partner to forgive the former Voice of God, but he knew it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about what Aziraphale needed.

“Alright,” Crowley agreed. “Alright, I will go with you.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, smiling widely, relief and gratitude shining in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Only so we can take a break from wedding planning,” Crowley added, smirking at Aziraphale’s exasperated look.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Forgiveness

Two days later, the Bentley was zooming down the London roads. The tunes of Queen were blasting inside the car.

Crowley glanced over at the angel in the passenger seat. Aziraphale had been strangely silent that day. He hadn’t protested the speed at all, which was making Crowley very uneasy. Aziraphale just looked out the window.

“You still with me, angel?” Crowley asked.

“Mmhm,” Aziraphale replied distantly. Crowley kept his eyes on the road, swerving around a corner. He almost missed Aziraphale’s complaining about his supposedly reckless driving. The silence was reminding him of the harrowing night he had found Aziraphale bleeding to death in the bookshop. Crowley had no idea how they hadn’t been seen by the legions. Aziraphale had been losing so much blood, too much. It had been so hot on Crowley’s hands and arms. The angel had been so cold, so pale, so limp in his arms. Each shallow wheezing breath could have been his last…

He had never driven faster than he had that night. Once they were out of London, Crowley had floored the accelerator, stopping only to get supplies. Once they had a destination and Aziraphale’s wounds were bandaged, the demon kept the accelerator floored.

When they were halfway there, Crowley realized he couldn’t feel Aziraphale. He decided to risk taking his eyes off the road (there were no other cars anyway) to look in the backseat. He could barely see the wounded angel in the dark shadows, buried under his jacket.

“Aziraphale?”

Silence. “No, no, no,” Crowley thought, panicking. He quickly swerved onto the side of the road, shifting into park. He got on his knees and reached into the backseat, shaking his friend. He was so cold. Aziraphale didn’t respond. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes welling up.

No, he refused to believe it. Aziraphale would never…not without…

Crowley swiftly opened the door and climbed out of the car, into the rainstorm, opening the door to the backseat. Rain continued beating down on him and thunder rumbled in the sky. The demon knelt on the wet ground, leaning over his friend. He couldn’t tell if the angel was breathing, it was too dark.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley said, pushing his jacket back a little so he could try to find a pulse. He didn’t know what to do. His friend desperately needed him, and Crowley didn’t know what to do, how to help him, and that was terrifying. He couldn’t fail Aziraphale, no matter what had happened when he left. When he chose Heaven over them.

The demon pushed all thoughts of the past out of his mind. All that mattered was right now.

“Please,” Crowley begged. “Please, Aziraphale. Please don’t die.”

The angel remained still, his face ghostly pale in the dark shadows of the night.

“Please don’t leave me,” Crowley murmured, tears streaming down his face.

Just when he was starting to lose hope, Aziraphale shifted in his sleep, whimpering softly. Crowley let out a gasping sob, tears spilling down his face. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s head, burying his nose in the angel’s soft white hair, breathing in his scent. Crowley closed his eyes briefly, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.

His friend. His only friend in the universe was dying. What was the point of anything if he lost the one he loved the most?

The demon nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a feather-light touch on his arm. Raising his head briefly, Crowley noticed Aziraphale was weakly resting a trembling hand on the demon’s forearm. For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Crowley took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. Aziraphale needed him, perhaps more than he ever had before, and the demon needed to keep his wits about him.

“I’m going to take care of you, angel,” he whispered, his voice drowned out by the thunder. “I promise you, Aziraphale. I will keep you safe.”

Swallowing, Crowley pulled his jacket up on Aziraphale’s shoulder, making sure he was as warm as he could be. Briefly resting a hand on his shoulder, Crowley stood up and closed the door. He quickly made his way to the driver’s side door and sunk back into his seat. He pulled back onto the road and floored the accelerator again.

If he focused, Crowley could faintly feel his friend, but Aziraphale was teetering on the edge. He was dying.

“We’re almost there, Aziraphale,” he murmured. “Almost there. Just hang on. Hang on just a little longer.”

Crowley cleared his throat, shaking his head as if to rid it of the memories of that awful night. The night he was certain was going to be Aziraphale’s last. Every night, he had held the angel, listening to every weak rasping breath he took until he fell asleep.

Even when the fever broke and Aziraphale was on the mend, Crowley found he was unable to sleep unless he was holding onto Aziraphale. He told the angel it was for Aziraphale’s benefit just in case he needed something or if the fever came back. Crowley expected Aziraphale to tease him, tell him he was being silly, and insist he was fine. To his great surprise, Aziraphale was grateful and didn’t object at all to Crowley remaining nearby. He seemed to rest easier when the demon slept beside him.

The coffee shop and bookshop soon came into view and Crowley brought the Bentley to a stop, easily parking the car. He twisted to look at Aziraphale. The angel closed his eyes, slowly breathing in and breathing out. A small tremor went through him.

“We don’t have to do this, Aziraphale,” Crowley told him gently. “You can just say you forgive him and leave it at that. Or you could write him a letter. I’m sure Shax would be happy to deliver it. We can grab a quick lunch at the Ritz and then go home, leave all this unpleasantness in the past where it belongs.”

Aziraphale looked over at him, then looked out the windshield, thinking for a moment. Crowley waited patiently.

“No,” Aziraphale said. “We’ve come this far. I want to see this through.”

He fidgeted with his clothing, trying to hide how much his hands were shaking. Swallowing, Aziraphale turned toward Crowley, his blue eyes welling with tears. He was scared but determined.

“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice sounding so small. Crowley reached out and took one of his hands in his own, intertwining their fingers. He brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“Always,” he promised. Aziraphale smiled shakily and looked out the window again, slowly letting out his breath. He opened the car door, and Crowley let go of his hand, opening the driver’s door. He met Aziraphale at the front of the Bently. Aziraphale straightened his coat and squared his shoulders.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, reaching for Crowley’s hand. The demon swiftly grabbed it, and they walked across the street to the elevator.

_*_

Crowley leaned against the back wall of the elevator, watching the angel and monitoring his fidgeting. Aziraphale was nervous, but Crowley was looking for the telltale signs of pain. Any sign that Aziraphale was doing harm to himself.

Despite how nervous he was, Aziraphale was admirably keeping himself together. He looked over at Crowley.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, Aziraphale,” Crowley replied, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his inside pocket. “I would rather be anywhere else, but I’m okay.”

Aziraphale looked back toward the doors when he heard a ding. The doors slid open with a whoosh, revealing the filthy hallway that was the entrance of Hell. Shax stood in front of the car with Eric standing on one side and Furfur on the other. The angel and the demon stepped out of the elevator, side by side.

“Aziraphale,” she greeted the angel, looking to Crowley. “Traitorous dog.”

Crowley smirked widely. “Still salty, Shax? After all my help when you were first assigned to Earth?”

“Shut it, Crowley,” Furfur warned. Aziraphale quickly stepped in front of Crowley.

“My fiancé is here as my aide. He has all the same rights as I and by the ruling found in article 10 section 72 of the Ethereal Treaty, you cannot lay a hand on him. And I would thank you not to speak to him as you would your subordinates,” Aziraphale stated firmly. “He is to be shown the same respect as I am.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows as he looked to Aziraphale, impressed. Furfur squinted at the angel.

“You’re what?”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Shax agreed, ignoring Furfur. “And we still hold to the agreement we came to when you were searching for him. Neither of you are to be bothered. Now show me the damn paperwork so we can get you out of here faster. You both reek of affection and humanity. It is nauseating.”

Aziraphale took a folded paper out of his inner pocket, handing it to the Prince of Hell, who snatched it from his grasp. She stared at the page, her eyes darting back and forth as she skimmed it. After a moment, she folded it and handed it back to Aziraphale.

“All appears to be in order. This way,” she said as she turned on her heel and started down the hall. Eric hesitated, looking at Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Congratulations,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Eric! Heel!”

Eric quickly dashed to Shax’s side. Crowley sidled up next to Aziraphale.

“Fiancé?” he asked, amused.

“What? It’s pretty,” Aziraphale replied, looking over at him with his big blue eyes.

“You and your words,” Crowley teased. Aziraphale smiled shakily, looking down the hall. The smile quickly fell from his face.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m right here with you, Aziraphale. I’m not going anywhere.”

Aziraphale nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Then they made their way after Shax to the interrogation rooms. She stopped in front of one of the open doors, gesturing inside. Crowley leaned forward, looking around inside.

“No flies?” he asked innocently. “You did away with the flies? I kinda liked them. They gave the place a certain charm.”

“We’ll bring him along shortly. No physical contact and you have five minutes,” she said, ignoring Crowley.

“What did you replace them with?” Crowley asked, looking around. “Cats? Frogs? Cicadas?”

At the sound of a strange rattling, the group turned to see a large white bird pecking at something on the ground. Crowley immediately started laughing.

“A stork? You got rid of the flies, and you populated Hell with storks? Brilliant,” he laughed, snorting.

“No physical contact and you have five minutes,” Shax repeated. “Do you understand?”

Crowley saluted her sarcastically and turned to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stood in front of the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fists. Crowley leaned closer to him, placing a hand on the small of his back.

“You alright?” he asked under his breath. Aziraphale swallowed.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this, Crowley,” he murmured. Crowley sighed. He didn’t want Aziraphale to face the Metatron again, even if the disgraced angel was no longer a threat. He wanted to bring Aziraphale home. Where the angel was happy and comfortable.

But this meant a lot to Aziraphale. It had taken so much for him to come this far. If he turned back now, the angel would regret it. Crowley wanted to protect Aziraphale, but he also respected him. Right now, Aziraphale needed reassurance and support.

“Just remember, he can’t hurt you or anyone else. He’s powerless,” Crowley reminded him.

“I can still feel the stroke of the sword on my back, cutting through my wing,” Aziraphale told him, his words shaking as his eyes welled up.

In that moment, Crowley wanted to drag him back to the elevator, back to Earth and the South Downs, where his books and music were. Back to where he was safe. Aziraphale didn’t belong in this wretched place, listening to whatever poison the Metatron would spit at him.

Aziraphale wanted to do this. This was Aziraphale’s choice and Crowley had promised to stay with him. He never broke his word, not when it came to Aziraphale.

“Are we having second thoughts?” Shax asked with a hint of mocking. “We don’t have all day.”

Crowley bared his teeth at her before turning his attention back to Aziraphale, his gaze softening.

“Whatever you decide to do, I will support you. If you truly want to do this, I’ll be there with you. I won’t leave you on your own, not ever. If he tries anything, he’ll have to go through me,” Crowley told him. “Or you can punch him like you did Sandalphon.”

The angel let out a huff of a laugh. Crowley leaned forward and kissed his brow, grinning confidently. Aziraphale gave him a weak smile, gratitude shining in his blue eyes.

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale stepped inside the interrogation room, Crowley right beside him. He watched as the angel took a seat at the rickety table. Crowley stood behind his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though the Metatron was basically harmless, Crowley still didn’t trust him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale fidget with his sleeve. He jumped when the door to the interrogation room was closed and latched.

Placing a hand on the angel’s shoulder, Crowley gave him a supportive squeeze. “I’m right here, angel. I won’t leave you on your own.”

Aziraphale reached up and laid his hand over Crowley’s, gently holding it.

They heard shuffling and then the door opened, revealing two demon guards. Between the demons was the Metatron. He was much more disheveled than when Crowley had first seen him, but he still held his head high. His mouth dropped open when he saw Aziraphale sitting at the table, color draining from his face.

“Told you,” Crowley taunted with a smirk.

The demons dragged the Metatron to the seat opposite Aziraphale and roughly pushed him down into it.

“Impossible,” the Metatron practically spit out the word.

“Yes, it should be and yet here I sit,” Aziraphale replied calmly. The Metatron looked over at Crowley, then back to Aziraphale. The disgraced Archangel straightened up a little, a prim and proper air about him. He tilted his chin up, gazing at Aziraphale as though he were a flea ridden dog who had wandered in.

“I just assumed the demon lied when he said you were alive,” the Metatron said, sitting back. “Did you also fornicate repeatedly in the elevator?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a side-eye and the demon struggled not to laugh. He knew how irked the angel was about him telling the Metatron that.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Aziraphale asked, looking back to the Metatron.

“If you are expecting an apology, you have wasted a trip. I do not regret my actions. If I had to do it all over again, I would do no different. All I did was to protect Heaven and the ineffable plan. You understood that before you started cavorting with a demon.”

“You mutilated and murdered angels,” Aziraphale replied, aghast. “Were they not also doing their duty by protecting humanity from the mass slaughter you tried to unleash upon them?”

“They had all betrayed their vows and oaths. They betrayed God.”

“They refused to go along with murdering countless humans. That’s not a betrayal. That is our duty as angels. Ending billions of innocent lives, how is that protecting Heaven?”

The Metatron scoffed. “You are naïve, Aziraphale. It’s not our place to question God—”

“It’s not our place to put words in Her mouth or to assume we know Her will either,” Aziraphale countered sharply. The Metatron stared at him, and Crowley did as well. He was impressed, but he could hear a hint of anxiety in Aziraphale’s tone.

“I may not rank as highly as you did. I may not have as much experience as you, but there’s something I do know: God’s ultimate plan is one of love. I have known it since I was a cherub. Love is the most powerful, most precious force there is. It is the reason why I sit here before you, alive. It is something that should be protected and nurtured.”

The Metatron sneered. “You were always a pathetic excuse for an angel. And you’re a fool, a naïve gluttonous fool.”

Crowley slammed his hands on the table, narrowing his eyes at the Metatron, who jumped at the sudden violent act.

“Say one more word,” Crowley snarled at him, daring him to speak again. “Just one more.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, laying a calming hand over the Crowley’s. His blue eyes met Crowley’s and the demon read what he was thinking. I’m alright. I promise. Crowley swallowed, briefly seeing Aziraphale laying in his arms, shivering and burning with fever, in constant pain. Suffering with every shallow breath. Dying. It was a sight the demon would never forget, nor would he forget how helpless he felt during those long nights.

“It hurts.”

Aziraphale’s light blue eyes were swimming with tears, sweat beading on his brow. His entire body was shivering violently, even though he was burning with fever. The angel was trying so hard to be brave, but the pain was overwhelming him. He was begging Crowley to help him, to make the pain stop. No matter what the demon tried, nothing worked.

Crowley did the only thing he could do. He held his friend, offering whatever comfort he could.

Crowley wanted to protect his partner, but he trusted the angel. If Aziraphale needed help, he would ask for it.

“Why are you here?” the Metatron asked, drawing their attention back to him. Aziraphale folded his hands in front of him. He glanced over at Crowley, smiling warmly.

“Crowley and I are to exchange vows next month. I’m looking forward to spending an eternity with him,” Aziraphale started as he looked back to the disgraced Archangel, ignoring the Metatron’s scoff. “I came here to let you know that you did not break me, despite your best attempts.”

“No? Then you had grown tired of your wings?” the Metatron asked simply and Aziraphale’s mouth snapped shut. “Bravado does not suit you, Aziraphale. You don’t have the strength or the confidence to pull it off. You are weak and you shall always bear the scars of that weakness. It would have been better for everyone had the Divine Retribution worked. Your existence is pointless.”

Crowley had never wanted to kill another more than in that moment. He clenched his fists so tightly he thought he might break his hands. Wisps of smoke started to curl off his shoulders and it took every ounce of strength Crowley had not to explode with anger.

Swallowing, he looked to the angel, who was sitting as still as stone. “Aziraphale, come on. Let’s go home. He’s not worth our time.”

Aziraphale turned his head a little but then looked back to the Metatron.

“I forgive you. For all that you did to me, I forgive you,” Aziraphale told him. “You may have taken my wings and left me with scars, but you did not take my capacity to love. And I will love for all my days.”

“Enjoy your life of sin,” the Metatron said dismissively.

“Our love is not a sin, love is never a sin,” Aziraphale told him.

“I mean, an argument can be made about bestiality,” Crowley put in.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale turned and shook his head, his cheeks turning red. Crowley smiled pleasantly, enjoying his partner’s exasperation. Aziraphale turned back to the Metatron.

“Crowley’s love is what saved me. It is the reason why I sit before you now. Love is stronger than any force, even Divine Retribution. It is what gave me the strength to forgive you,” he said. “I hope one day you can experience it and see the error of your ways.”

The Metatron glared at him. “You disgust me.”

“To be honest, I really don’t care,” Aziraphale said with a shrug as he stood from the chair, turning back to his partner. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Crowley nodded, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, and leading him to the door. They heard the rattle of chains as the Metatron was pulled to his feet. Crowley twisted to look behind him.

“I’m going to positively ravish him on our honeymoon,” Crowley told the disgraced angel.

“Oh lord. Must you always have the last word?” Aziraphale mumbled, swatting playfully at the demon, even as he blushed. Crowley pounded twice on the door, which was unlatched and opened.

“Yes, I must,” Crowley chuckled, leading his partner out of the interrogation room, letting the demons take the disgraced Archangel back to wherever they kept him. He winked at Shax as they stepped out, and she glowered at him.

“Thank you, Shax,” Aziraphale said gratefully.

“Just don’t come back,” she growled, pausing. “Send me your registry so I can send you a wedding gift. That’s the Earth custom, isn’t it?”

“It is and we shall,” Aziraphale replied with a polite smile.

“Good,” she snapped. “If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters that require my attention. Furfur, let’s go.”

The two demons turned and made their way down another hall. Eric remained behind.

“Congratulations again,” he said.

“ERIC!”

He grimaced and hurried after Shax and Furfur.

“I think the Prince of Hell may be growing fond of us,” Crowley said. Aziraphale looked over at him with an affectionate smile.

“We do seem to have that effect on people,” he replied. “Must be how nice you are.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, grumbling.

“Come on, angel. Let’s get out of here,” Crowley said, his arm still around Aziraphale. The angel nodded and they walked back to the elevator. The doors opened as they approached, and they stepped inside. Crowley pressed the button that would bring them to Earth.

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked gently. Aziraphale nodded, letting out a sad laugh.

“I really thought he wanted my help,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “I thought I could make a difference as an Archangel. I was so sure that Heaven could change and finally be what it always promised to be.”

“Come here,” the demon encouraged, holding out his arm. Aziraphale leaned against him, and Crowley wrapped his arms about the angel. He kissed his head, rubbing his arm.

“I used to look up to the Metatron, strove to be as loyal and dedicated as he was. I believed in him, and I thought I could make him see reason,” Aziraphale said softly, ashamed. “He’s right. I was a naïve fool.”

“You were not a naïve fool, Aziraphale. If you were, you would not have tried to sabotage his plans. Most angels looked up to the Metatron. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You couldn’t have known.”

“You did.”

“Just because I never liked or trusted him doesn’t mean I knew what he was capable of or what lengths he would go to. Do you honestly think I would have let you go anywhere near that elevator if I suspected for even a moment what he was going to do?”

Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “No, of course not.”

The demon held him close, wrapping him in a protective embrace. Sometimes his mind wandered back to finding Aziraphale in the bookshop, bleeding out. He sometimes wondered how long Aziraphale had been there before Crowley found him, how long he had held on. How close he had been to losing Aziraphale forever. Crowley shivered and felt Aziraphale’s arms wrap around him. He focused on the sensation, letting it ground him.

“Do you want to pick up some shortbread for the ride home? Or some other sweets?” Crowley offered. Aziraphale shook his head.

“I baked some shortbread yesterday. There’s a small tin in the backseat of the Bentley,” Aziraphale said. Crowly swallowed, still struggling with what to say.

“I admire you, Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured. Aziraphale looked at him with teary eyes. “I may not agree with your actions, but I admire your strength to follow through, nonetheless. You are so much better than Heaven ever deserved.”

Aziraphale grinned and kissed Crowley. “I love you so much.”

Crowley smiled and looked back at the numbers, taking his sunglasses out and slipping them over his eyes again. Feeling Aziraphale’s fingers intertwined with his own was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

“You know, I will still have trying days, days when I’m sad, when I struggle with the memories of everything that happened in Heaven,” Aziraphale told him.

“I don’t mind. As I told the Metatron when I saw him after the final battle, no matter how you change, I will love you all the same,” Crowley replied without hesitation. “My love for you has never wavered, Aziraphale. It never will, no matter what.”

Aziraphale smiled at him. “And I vow the same for you, Crowley.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Crowley and Aziraphale stepped out into the pleasant afternoon. They both drew in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh spring air. The steady hum of conversation surrounded them as humans continued about their day. The light from the sun shone down upon them.

“Crowley, would you like to have lunch at the Ritz?” Aziraphale asked. “I believe a table just opened up.”

Crowley looked over at him, raising his eyebrows. The angel smiled and nodded. Crowley felt a smile spread across his face. He used a miracle. His ability to perform miracles is coming back.

“I could go for a bite,” Crowley said. The look of delight on Aziraphale’s face made him smile. They made their way over to the Bentley.

“And perhaps we might try driving the speed limit,” Aziraphale said hopefully.

“You can’t always get what you want, angel,” Crowley replied as they reached the Bentley. Aziraphale sighed and sunk into the passenger seat.

_*_

“Aziraphale!”

Crowley ran through the empty streets, rain pouring down on him. He looked everywhere, searching for the angel. He knew he was here somewhere, but he couldn’t feel him. The marching of the legions echoed throughout the night, thundering through his head. It made Crowley nervous, but he wouldn’t leave without his friend.

He skidded around another corner and spotted a form on the ground a few feet away. Right beside the bookshop. Crowley’s heartbeat suddenly seemed unnaturally loud, and he dashed toward the unmoving shape, crying his friend’s name. He fell to his knees beside the body, in the pool of blood that surrounded.it. There was so much blood, too much. He knew it was Aziraphale even before he turned him over.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Crowley repeated over and over as he pulled the angel into his arms, cradling him. “Aziraphale, wake up. Please wake up. Please.”

Aziraphale was so cold in his arms, blood dribbling from his colorless lips. He was already gone, Crowley knew, but he couldn’t believe it. The rain masked the tears spilling down his face. He rocked his friend, holding him protectively. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t a world without Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Crowley sobbed. He looked up at the sky and let out a scream of rage and grief.

“How could you! Goddamn you!” Crowley raged. “Bastards! All of you!”

He dropped his head to the dead angel’s brow, weeping. He was alone, so alone.

**

“Crowley?”

Crowley woke up with a sharp gasp, sitting straight up. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and his eyes darted around the dark room. He looked over next to him.

Aziraphale was also sitting up, looking concerned. A few days had passed since they had gone to Hell to see the Metatron. The angel’s sleep had been more peaceful since then, which was a relief. That morning, Aziraphale had woken up with a migraine and spent most of the day on the couch. Crowley noticed he was more prone to nightmares when Aziraphale experienced an episode of pain or a migraine. He suspected it was due to the memory of how close he had come to losing the angel forever.

“Crowley, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded, still unable to speak. He felt the angel place a gentle hand on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

“You were thrashing and muttering in your sleep,” Aziraphale told him, pausing. “You’re shaking. Crowley, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Crowley shook his head. “Just a bad dream. How are you feeling, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale kept rubbing Crowley’s back. “I’m fine. The migraine cleared up shortly after dinner. Thank you for reading to me.”

The demon smiled at him, looking over at the window. He laid back against the pillows, his eyes on the stars. The night sky was so clear and so beautiful. The stars always made him feel calmer.

“What did you dream of?”

“I don’t remember,” Crowley lied, still looking at the stars. Part of him felt guilty for not telling Aziraphale about the images that haunted his dream, but he couldn’t bring himself to burden the angel with such things. It was just a silly nightmare. Nothing more.

After a moment, he heard rustling and felt Aziraphale’s arms wrap around him. The demon looked at the angel, who laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Angel?”

“I feel like sleeping here tonight,” Aziraphale replied with a yawn. “I want you to know I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Crowley sighed, stroking Aziraphale’s back. “I was calling your name, wasn’t I?”

“You were. A couple times,” Aziraphale admitted. “You don’t have to tell me about your dream if you don’t want to. But know that I am here, for whatever you need.”

Crowley swallowed. “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

The angel nodded, his eyes still closed. Crowley looked over at the window, the nearness of Aziraphale soothing his nerves. He had always loved sleeping, but he found sharing a bed with Aziraphale to be a whole new level of comfort. The entire experience was even more pleasurable when it was shared.

“In a few weeks, we’ll exchange vows in front of all our friends,” Aziraphale murmured, joy clear in his voice. Crowley couldn’t help but smile. He loved seeing Aziraphale so happy.

“It’s going to be one hell of a party,” he agreed.

“Have you written your vows yet?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mostly. How about you?”

The angel nodded, curling up more with Crowley, wrapping one leg around the demon’s thigh. “We have the tasting tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to that.”

Crowley smiled as his eyes slowly closed. “I know you are, angel. We’ll have a good time.”

“I love you, Crowley.”

“I love you too, Aziraphale.”

The demon and the angel fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, as they did every night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen: Wedding Bells

“Why are there bloody Archangels here?” Crowley growled.

“What?” Aziraphale joined him by the windows of the room where they were getting ready for their wedding. He spotted the angels dressed in finery. He felt the brief stirrings of anxiety within him. He easily spotted Uriel and Michael, as well as Saraqael. Thankfully, Sandalphon didn’t appear to be with them.

“Well, I certainly didn’t invite them,” Aziraphale protested, pointing across the aisle. “Why are there bloody demons here?”

Crowley squinted and swore under his breath. “Never mind who invited them. How do we get rid of them?”

There was a knock at the door, causing them both to twist around.

“Come in,” Aziraphale called. The door opened and Muriel scurried in. They were obviously nervous.

“Hi, um, so you may have noticed there are some attendees who weren’t on the guest list,” they began. “Don’t worry. They’re not going to interfere. Heaven wanted to witness your union, since it’s a momentous event. And rumor has it She blesses this union.”

Crowley scoffed bitterly and shook his head.

“And the demons?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, Hell certainly doesn’t want to not be part of something historic. Both sides are locked in an eternal dick measuring contest,” Crowley replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but they are not invited to the party. They can witness the vows, but after that, they crawl back to their territories and leave us the hell alone.”

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said gratefully, pleased their wedding wasn’t going to start with a battle.

“And I’m using tongue after we’re pronounced spouses. Give those uptight pricks something to clutch their pearls about.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Aziraphale said with a grin.

“I’ll make sure they know,” Muriel said, fidgeting. They were obviously nervous.

“Muriel, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, concerned. Crowley fully turned from the window, frowning when he noticed how uneasy Muriel was.

“It’s just…you two have been waiting for this for so long and have gone through so much and you deserve for everything to be perfect. I’ve never officiated a wedding before. I don’t want to mess it up and ruin everything. Maybe I should ask Michael—”

“Michael’s a wanker,” Crowley protested as he approached the young recording angel. “You’re fine, kid. You’ll be brilliant.”

“Muriel, we wouldn’t have asked you if we didn’t have complete confidence in you,” Aziraphale added. “This is a very casual ceremony. Just read what you wrote on the cards.”

Muriel looked between them. “It’s not too sappy, is it? I tried not to be too sappy, but I think it might be.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reassure them, but Crowley placed a hand on their shoulder and gently kissed their head.

“It’s perfect, Muriel. Honest,” he reassured them. Aziraphale smiled, loving to see the warm gentle side of his partner. It was a side that Crowley only showed to the very few he trusted. Aziraphale had noticed it was more common since the demon returned home after the last war between Heaven and Hell.

Muriel beamed and nodded, turning and hurrying out to where the guests were. The angel and the demon watched them, both smiling proudly.

“If any good came out of the whole bloody mess of the second coming, it was Muriel coming into our lives,” Aziraphale observed.

Crowley made a noncommittal noise in response and Aziraphale looked over to him. The demon’s expression was distant, almost longing. It was similar to how he looked when he first confessed his love to Aziraphale. The angel interlaced his fingers with the demon’s, the love of his life.

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

Crowley looked over at him with those beautiful gold eyes, offering him a shaky smile. “I will be, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale gently brushed away a tear that crawled down the demon’s cheek.

“Talk to me, darling,” he urged. Crowley swallowed and dropped his gaze briefly.

“I’m just…mmm,” he grimaced and looked back to the small gathering. Aziraphale waited patiently, knowing Crowley would continue when he was ready. The demon let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“Do you know what my first thought was when I found you in the bookshop?” he said, looking at the angel. “I thought, of course this is what happened. The person I care about more than anyone or anything is going to be taken from me. Once again, Heaven took away what made me happiest. Part of me knew it would happen eventually, ever since we did our switch after we thwarted Heaven and Hell with Adam, but I foolishly hoped I would be targeted. When I took you out of the shop, I could feel you fading away. I didn’t know whether I would have the strength to stay with you until the end. The thought of losing you forever was more than I could bear.”

Crowley dropped his gaze, his lower lip trembling. “But I could never leave you to die alone. I-I had to make sure you weren’t alone, especially at the end.

“When I kept vigil over you, I was more scared than I have ever been, Aziraphale. Because I thought I was going to lose you all over again. It felt like we were fighting a losing battle every day. You just kept getting weaker and weaker. I was sure you would succumb to your wounds.”

Crowley drew in a shaky breath and looked up again but could not meet Aziraphale’s gaze. “I don’t know…too many things are going right, and I’m not used to it. I keep waiting for some disaster to happen, to end all this. For it to be taken away again.”

The angel was quiet for a moment, watching as the demon swiped away the few tears that escaped his eyes. His flame-haired protector, the one who knew him better than anyone, who loved him all the same. The one who encouraged his love of books and food and whatever made him happy, who let the angel share it with him. The one who had always accepted Aziraphale and made the angel feel seen and loved.

Aziraphale smiled and gently touched Crowley’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He waited for the demon to look at him.

“All I thought about on the journey to the South Downs was how much I wanted you to be okay,” Aziraphale told him. “I prayed to God to look after you. I asked the Bentley to make sure you would be okay, that you would smile again. You were the reason why I continued to fight for another day, another breath, another moment.

“As time went on, I started to fight for this day. I realized that Heaven and Hell took so much from us over the years. I didn’t want them to take this too. I didn’t want them to steal anymore time from us. I loved you too much to give up.”

Aziraphale took up Crowley’s other hand.

“You make me happy, Crowley. Having you in my life has enriched it so much. You were right when you said we don’t need Heaven or Hell. We made a life for ourselves on this planet, and this is our home. This is where we’re happy, where we have always been happy.

“I love you, Crowley. I love every part of you. Just the way you are. I will love you for all eternity and beyond. And I am looking forward to vowing to do so in front of our friends today. You make me happier than anyone else ever has and I hope I can do the same for you.”

Crowley slowly drew in a breath and exhaled. Aziraphale stood across from him, holding his hands.

“So you’re not returning to Heaven again?” Crowley asked with a wicked grin. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re an ass,” he snickered. Crowley shared in his laughter. After a moment, the angel looked over to the tent where their friends were gathered.

“Are you ready, Crowley?” he asked, straightening his coat and fidgeting. Truth be told, he was also nervous. They had been through so many trials and tribulations. It was only months ago that Aziraphale was certain he was going to die. Now they were about to exchange vows in front of all their friends, who had become their family…it didn’t feel real.

Then he felt Crowley’s hand slide into his, intertwining their fingers. He looked over at his partner, smiling.

“Together?” Crowley asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“As always,” Aziraphale replied, beaming. They stepped out into the sunny afternoon, heading towards the tent.

_*_

The wedding went smoothly, even with the presence of the Archangels and demons. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged their vows, never letting go of the other’s hands. They promised to love, honor, and cherish each other for all of their days, as they had done since they had first met in the stars above a newly forming nebula. Aziraphale couldn’t stop smiling and a similar grin danced across the demon’s face. Crowley had even gone without his sunglasses, so the angel could look into those beautiful eyes he loved so much.

When Muriel wound a silver silk ribbon about their wrists and pronounced them spouses, Crowley didn’t hesitate to passionately kiss the angel, dipping him practically to the ground. Aziraphale, never one to be outdone, returned his ardor. It was one of the most romantic and loving kisses the two had ever shared, everything the angel had ever dreamed of. It was an expression of an unending love that had first sprung millennia ago when two angels met amongst the stars and later grew fuller in a garden.

When they pulled back, the angel and demon shared a smile of love and joy. Aziraphale leaned forward and rested his brow against Crowley’s, closing his eyes, savoring every single moment. They were barely aware of anyone else. It was only when Muriel cleared their throat and Gabriel whistled sharply before applauding enthusiastically that they realized they were being watched.

Later at the reception, Crowley and Aziraphale danced to “A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square” for their first dance as spouses. The angel couldn’t stop smiling and it seemed the demon couldn’t either. Everything was perfect.

After they ate a truly delectable dinner, Aziraphale smiled as he watched Muriel dance with Agnes, Anathema and Newt’s young daughter. His eyes traveled to where Newt and Anathema were dancing together. There was a subtle swell of Anathema’s belly. In a few months, Agnes was going to be a big sister.

Crowley was reclining in his chair, his arm draped over the back of Aziraphale’s. The angel leaned back, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Crowley’s arm around him. He placed a hand on Crowley’s thigh, gently rubbing it. He watched their friends dance, pleased to see everyone smiling.

“This is even better than I dreamed,” Aziraphale murmured. “The ceremony was beautiful.”

“Could’ve done without Gabriel’s carrying on,” Crowley mentioned, picking up his champagne flute and sipping his drink.

“He was just excited. I thought it was endearing.”

“He yelled, ‘Great job not dying, Aziraphale. Enjoy all the sexual intercourse,’ as we were walking down the aisle and then whistled,” Crowley reminded him dryly. Aziraphale looked over to where Beelzebub and Gabriel were dancing. The former Archangel met his eyes and beamed, waving at him enthusiastically. Aziraphale waved back, much more calmly.

“He means well,” Aziraphale replied. Crowley looked over at the angel.

“How is your back?” the demon asked quietly. While his wings were almost entirely healed, Aziraphale was still experiencing occasional spells of pain that varied in intensity, as well as migraines. At Crowley’s request, Muriel had spoken to the Healing Angels about it and the prognosis hadn’t been ideal.

**

“Forever?” Aziraphale asked, stunned, looking over at Crowley. They were sitting in the kitchen with Aziraphale’s phone on speaker on the table. There was a tenseness in the demon’s shoulders and anger flashed across his face. He leaned forward a little, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s what Archangel Raphael believes,” Muriel affirmed, sounding apologetic. “It’s very difficult to say one way or another since you’re the only angel to survive having their wings severed. But according to Archangel Raphael, since you’re still experiencing such episodes, it’s likely going to be a lasting effect of what happened.”

“Why can’t he heal Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, a sharpness to his tone. “And don’t give me any heavenly bureaucratic bullshite. After what he went through, the least Heaven can do is heal him.”

“I asked, Mr. Crowley. According to Raphael, he can’t heal Aziraphale because of the Divine Retribution that was invoked. No celestial being will be able to heal him fully. It’s a miracle he lived at all.”

Crowley let out a growl of frustration, abruptly stood from his chair, and stormed out of the kitchen. Aziraphale winced when he heard the front door slam.

“I’m so sorry, Aziraphale,” Muriel said softly.

“It’s quite alright, Muriel. Thank you so much for inquiring about this. It has been incredibly helpful,” Aziraphale replied.

“If it helps at all, Raphael believes that the episodes will likely lessen in intensity and frequency once your wings finish healing. He says it might even get to the point where you barely notice them,” Muriel added hopefully. Aziraphale smiled warmly. He loved Muriel and was so glad they were a part of his and Crowley’s life.

“I don’t doubt it, my dear. We’ll see you at the wedding.”

After exchanging a few parting words, Aziraphale hung up the phone and sat back, closing his eyes briefly. Last week, he’d experienced an episode of pain so severe, he had collapsed. Crowley found him on the floor of the small library, unable to move. He stayed with Aziraphale, holding his hand, until the worst of the spell passed, then carried him over to the lounge where the angel had promptly passed out. While he slept, Crowley called Muriel and demanded they speak to Archangel Raphael.

Raphael was one of the busiest Archangels there was, so it took a bit for him to respond to Muriel’s request, but he did. And he was surprisingly helpful. Raphael had always been a peculiar angel, something he seemed to revel in. He wasn’t as empathetic or interested in Earth as Aziraphale and Muriel, but he wasn’t quite as rigid as most other angels. As far as anyone knew, he hadn’t participated in any conflicts. He just wanted to be left alone to do his duty.

And he loved figuring out mysteries. Aziraphale and Crowley knew his interest would be peaked by an angel surviving something no other ever had.

Crowley had not been wild about letting an Archangel into their home but relented since it could potentially help Aziraphale. Raphael, for his part, was cordial toward both Aziraphale and Crowley. He didn’t protest Crowley staying in the room and watching his every move. He was patient with Aziraphale, who was nervous about exposing his back to an Archangel. Aziraphale was embarrassed by how much he was trembling, by how scared he was.

Crowley sat beside him, allowing the angel to rest his brow on the demon’s shoulder. He held him throughout the entire examination, talked to and encouraged Aziraphale, providing a sense of safety that the angel desperately needed. Raphael did a quick visual examination of Aziraphale’s back and wrote down notes. He collected a few drops of blood to examine later.

Crowley didn’t let him touch the principality’s wings or back, much to Aziraphale’s relief. Instead, he showed the Archangel the range of motion and carefully plucked a feather for him to examine back at his office in Heaven. Raphael hadn’t protested, and patiently instructed Crowley on what he needed.

Once he finished, Crowley showed Raphael to the door before returning to the couch, where Aziraphale was trying to put his shirt back on, his entire body trembling. Without saying anything, Crowley sat beside him and helped him button up his shirt. Aziraphale sniffled and Crowley looked at him. The demon wrapped his arms around him, allowing Aziraphale to lean against him.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said, his words trembling.

“Here, angel,” Crowley replied, soft and calm, rubbing Aziraphale’s arm. “I’m right here. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

“Don’t leave,” Aziraphale murmured, a tear sliding down his face. He couldn’t stop shaking. All he could think about was that horrible day in Heaven, the day he had almost lost his life. When his wings had been violently cut off. He clutched Crowley’s shirt, silently crying, his tears soaking into the fabric.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aziraphale. I promise,” Crowley replied, gently kissing Aziraphale’s head. He laid his hand over Aziraphale’s. The angel closed his eyes, slowly letting out his breath and focusing on the feeling of Crowley’s hand.

Crowley held Aziraphale for more than an hour, comforting him, not moving until Aziraphale was ready to get up. Aziraphale took some comfort in knowing Raphael would be able to figure out what was happening to him.

They had been hoping for better news, however.

Aziraphale stood from his chair and moved through the cottage to the front door, opening it and stepping out into the front yard. He smiled as he breathed in the spring air. The weather was gorgeous, and the temperature was perfect. Already the flowers were starting to bloom. He spotted a small brown rabbit nibbling on some clover a few feet away. There was a robin perched in a nearby tree. The sun would be setting soon and then stars would sparkle in the beautiful night sky.

He made his way over to the Bentley. Crowley was sitting inside, staring out the windshield, his head resting on his hand. The angel was rather surprised the demon wasn’t blasting music. Then again, when something was weighing heavily on Crowley, he tended to prefer silence.

Opening the passenger side door, Aziraphale sank inside the car. For a while they sat in a comfortable silence. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile softly as he gazed at the demon. Heavens how he loved him. He was going to spend the rest of his life with this beautiful kind demon. He smoothed the leg of his trousers.

“When we go shopping tomorrow, let’s pick up some oysters,” Aziraphale suggested. “I’m nowhere near as talented as Petronius, but I make a decent dish. It has been quite some time since we’ve had oysters, and I know how much you enjoy them.”

Crowley remained silent, his gaze distant. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes and it broke Aziraphale’s heart. He desperately wanted to help Crowley, to reassure him. Aziraphale was also concerned, even a little scared, but his first concern was the demon. It always had been. He reached over and used slight of hand, producing a coin from behind Crowley’s ear.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he teased. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, glancing briefly at the coin Aziraphale was holding. “That’s not even a penny.”

“Your thoughts are worth significantly more?” Aziraphale offered, chuckling at his own joke. Crowley ran his hands over his face as Aziraphale put the coin back in his pocket.

“It’s not fair.”

Crowley’s quiet words shook slightly. His tone was both angry and sad.

“I know. It certainly wasn’t what I had hoped for, but it’s not the worst news either,” Aziraphale agreed, still smiling. “It’s going to be okay, Crowley.”

“Words I should be saying to you, angel,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale laughed softly.

Crowley turned his head a little, looking over at Aziraphale.

“I should have gone with you,” he said. “None of this would have happened if I had gone with you.”

“Possibly,” Aziraphale replied, tilting his head a little, thoughtful. “Or perhaps things would have gone even more poorly. Crowley, I truly believe things played out the way they were supposed to. If you hadn’t been here on Earth, I would not have survived.”

Crowley sniffled, swiping at a tear that escaped his eye. “I hate that you have to live with what that bastard did to you. He’s the one who should experience pain for all eternity, not you.”

Aziraphale inched closer to him, taking up his hand and kissing the back of it. “Occasional migraines and episodes of pain is a very small price to pay for the life we are building together, my love.”

The demon frowned. “You’re not worried?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Do I have concerns? Of course I do. But… I have you. You’re all I need, Crowley. Whatever setbacks we experience, we’ll face them together and adapt. We always do.”

A small sad smile danced across Crowley’s lips. Aziraphale leaned forward, gently kissing him. Crowley opened his mouth, deepening their kiss. Aziraphale could feel the demon’s hunger, which mirrored his own. Suddenly, Aziraphale desperately needed Crowley, his body. His fingers found Crowley’s belt, swiftly undoing it.

“Angel?” Crowley said, softly, breathlessly. Aziraphale pulled his belt free, tossing it to the side.

“Crowley, make love to me,” Aziraphale whispered as he started undoing the button on Crowley’s pants. He felt the demon undoing the buttons on his vest and captured his lips again. Heavens, he tasted amazing. Both sweet and rich.

“Aziraphale, it’s a bit cramped.”

“I don’t care,” Aziraphale replied, desire making him impatient. He moved to take off Crowley’s vest and shirt. His elbow hit the Bentley’s horn, causing him to jump, startled. He looked over at Crowley, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, his classic “told you so” look.

“Let’s go inside,” Crowley suggested. Aziraphale nodded, opening the door behind him and stood out of the car. Crowley was right behind him, kissing him passionately the moment they were outside. He shut the Bentley’s door behind them and Aziraphale grabbed his hand, hurrying toward the cottage’s front door.

They barely had time to get into the cottage and close the door before they miracled off their clothes. The angel hungrily kissed the demon’s lips, savoring the taste of him. Crowley returned his passion, his hands roaming over Aziraphale’s form. Every touch felt heavenly as the angel’s body responded to the demon. The angel never thought anything could feel this wonderful. Every time they made love, Aziraphale felt euphoria.

“Shall we make our way to the bedroom?” Crowley whispered before capturing the angel’s lips again. Aziraphale shook his head. He couldn’t wait that long.

“No,” he replied when they parted, and he took Crowley’s hand as he lowered himself to the floor. “Take me here.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow, but complied as he straddled Aziraphale. He trailed kisses down his neck to his chest and then lower. Aziraphale gasped and arched his neck as electricity raced through him. He could feel Crowley’s body responding to his own and Aziraphale moaned loudly in pleasure. The demon’s head rose up and he positioned himself over the angel. Aziraphale smiled at the love in the demon’s beautiful gold eyes. Love for him.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley panted, hesitating. Aziraphale smiled, even though he felt a hint of impatience. Crowley always checked with him. It was the demon’s way of making sure the angel felt safe.

“Yes,” the angel consented, placing his hands on Crowley’s sides. “Please, don’t stop.”

Aziraphale groaned in pleasure as Crowley entered him, slowly and gently. He closed his eyes as the demon thrust, smiling at how his entire form tingled. He loved the sensation of Crowley inside of him, how the demon held him during passionate moments. Aziraphale moaned his lover’s name, lifting his hips slightly, moving with the demon as Crowley continued to thrust. Every motion was powerful and smooth.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, shivering in pleasure. The sense of love from the demon was heightening the experience, bringing the angel to new levels of pleasure. He bit his lip tightly grasping Crowley’s shoulders, holding onto him.

He could feel the demon’s breath as Crowley kissed his neck.

“You’re gorgeous,” Crowley whispered in his ear, nipping lightly at it. “I love you.”

Aziraphale smiled, feeling the love that radiated off Crowley. It was always most pronounced when they were being intimate. He grasped the demon’s hips, feeling every movement, and keeping his lover close. Crowley groaned, responding to Aziraphale’s touch. The angel had learned the demon loved his touch, more than even Aziraphale had ever realized. And Aziraphale never denied it to him.

Suddenly, Crowley moved as though to pull away, but Aziraphale grasped him tighter.

“No, stay,” he murmured.

“Are you certain?” Crowley asked, breathless.

“Yes,” Aziraphale panted, groaning. “Oh god, yes.”

They climaxed together, both groaning. Aziraphale sank to the soft rug, sighing in contentment. He found that making love was one of his favorite Earth related activities. He felt Crowley slump forward, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. His breath was still in short rapid gasps. Aziraphale embraced him, massaging the back of his head.

“I love you,” Aziraphale murmured, nuzzling his partner. “I love you so much.”

Crowley withdrew, rolling off him. The angel watched as the demon got comfortable beside him, his face still flushed. Crowley looked over at him, grinning faintly. He reached over, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale. The angel smiled and kissed the demon, snuggling close to him, relishing the feeling of Crowley’s arms around him. He was so warm.

The setting sun cast a glow on their nude bodies, sweat glistening in the fading light. Crowley kissed his shoulder, then his neck.

“Are you alright, angel?” Crowley asked breathlessly, looking him over for any sign of discomfort. Aziraphale nodded, gazing into his beautiful gold eyes, trailing his fingers up his partner’s arm.

“Never better. Though dinner will be a little late tonight,” he replied. Crowley snickered and Aziraphale grinned. He loved it when he could make his partner laugh.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, stroking the demon’s chest. “About the news, I mean. I know it’s a lot—”

“It’s not,” Crowley replied without hesitation. “You’re still Aziraphale, my friend, the one who I have loved for millennia. No diagnosis can ever change that.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly, reaching over and tracing Crowley’s jawline with his thumb. He captured his lips again, drinking in the feeling of love that surrounded them. When they pulled apart, Crowley nuzzled him.

“Aziraphale, I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. I promise,” Crowley murmured. Aziraphale smiled softly.

“I know, my dear,” he replied. “I never thought otherwise.”

Aziraphale couldn’t hide the yawn, a sudden sleepiness overtaking him.

“Come here, angel,” Crowley said affectionately, gently pulling Aziraphale closer. The angel smiled and snuggled even closer to the demon.

Crowley snapped his fingers, conjuring a warm soft blanket that he pulled over them. Aziraphale nestled down, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder, falling asleep wrapped in Crowley’s arms, a satisfied smile on his face.

Dinner had been late that evening, but it had been worth it.

**

Aziraphale didn’t mind the occasional episodes of pain or the migraines he experienced. He and Crowley were already adapting to it.

“It’s fine, dear. I’m not experiencing any pain or discomfort,” Aziraphale reassured him, glancing over at him. “Are you happy, Crowley?”

The demon smiled and tenderly kissed the angel. Aziraphale felt warmth throughout his entire body as he closed his eyes. They were very good at this.

“More than I ever have been,” Crowley murmured when they pulled apart. They looked out to the dance floor, where all their friends were dancing to an upbeat tune. Everyone was smiling and laughing. The angel and demon’s joy were shared by all in attendance.

“You know, Maggie and Nina are planning to wed next summer,” Aziraphale mentioned. “They want us to be part of the wedding party.”

“Nina mentioned something along those lines to me,” Crowley replied. “As long as there is free alcohol, I suppose I can be persuaded to take part.”

Aziraphale smiled and picked up his champagne flute. “To being an us?”

Crowley grinned and held up his own flute. “To being an us.”

They clinked their flutes together, sipping the bubbling champagne.

The demon stood from his chair, offering Aziraphale his hand. The angel felt his heart flutter at the sight of the wedding band on the demon’s finger, engraved with a dove and a serpent. A matching band was on the angel’s own finger, a symbol of their love and devotion to each other.

“Come on, angel. We can’t let the humans have all the fun at our wedding. We’ve waited six thousand years for this,” Crowley encouraged. Aziraphale laughed and put his hand in Crowley’s, rising to his feet. He followed the demon out onto the dance floor, dancing among their friends, who had become their family. Who had gathered to celebrate the love between a demon and an angel, a love so strong it had saved the world.

It was a night of joy and love. And to the delight of Crowley and Aziraphale, dancing.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: Ineffable

The evening after the ceremony, Crowley and Aziraphale were out in their yard, curled up together on a blanket, holding hands. It was a habit they had fallen into since Crowley’s return. On nice nights, after dinner, they would lounge out in their yard, watching the stars come out, usually with a glass of good wine. Crowley would point out all the constellations and Aziraphale would cuddle up beside him, smiling as they studied the night sky. He had a new appreciation for the beauty of the heavens above them.

Occasionally, Aziraphale would read by lantern light while Crowley looked up at the sky. The demon would grin when the angel read him a particularly interesting passage from whatever book currently held his attention. The demon wasn’t as fond of books as the angel, but he loved whatever made Aziraphale happy.

Some nights, they made love under the stars. Crowley was an attentive lover, who was able to pleasure the angel while being careful of his still sensitive back. He was gentle while also passionate and firm. Aziraphale could tell Crowley enjoyed the sound of the angel’s moans of pleasure, probably as much as Aziraphale enjoyed Crowley’s. The angel was a quick learner, and he soon knew every pleasure point on the demon’s body. Crowley’s body was an exquisite work of art that Aziraphale loved.

Their little cottage was filled with plants and books, which made it feel like home to them. They spent every night together, wrapped in each other’s arms. They ate every meal together, enjoying a pleasant conversation over their food. It was a good life, one they had both dreamed of. They finally had a home they made together.

Aziraphale could not stop smiling as he looked at their wedding bands. They were so simple and yet so perfect. Looking at the demon, the angel smiled even wider. Crowley was dozing lightly, his head resting on Aziraphale’s chest. He was not wearing his sunglasses. He never did in their cozy little home, which warmed Aziraphale’s heart. Crowley was finally safe. They both were.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair and the demon curled up more against him, a smile playing across his lips. They were leaving for Alpha Centauri at the end of the week for a well-earned vacation. They planned to spend a month there before returning to their perfect cottage in the South Downs. Though Aziraphale was looking forward to seeing the place Crowley loved so much, he was going to miss their home while they were away. The angel thought about the conversation they’d had earlier that morning.

**

The angel smiled when he heard Crowley’s loud groan of pleasure as he thrust inside the demon again. He’d lost track of how long they had been at it, but time didn’t matter. Crowley grabbed ahold of his thigh, squeezing tightly.

“There. Right there,” he murmured, moaning when Aziraphale thrust again. He looked radiant in the newly risen sun. The angel clutched him tightly, holding his wiry body against his own. He captured Crowley’s lips again. A familiar warmth spread through his body, a rush.

The moment was interrupted when Aziraphale’s back seized up painfully as he finished in Crowley. The angel withdrew with a cry of pain and stumbled back. He was saved from falling by Crowley’s quick reflexes.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice was worried as he grasped Aziraphale’s arms and helped him back to the bed, so he could sit. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“My back,” the angel panted, wincing.

“Lay down,” Crowley told him, gently guiding him down to the mattress.

Aziraphale grimaced and laid back against the pillows, his back aching. He felt a brief hint of frustration, but it was short-lived. Crowley climbed up on the bed beside him and Aziraphale eagerly wrapped his arms around him, smiling happily. One of his favorite parts of making love was holding his partner afterwards. Crowley was aware of this and always made sure he was in reach.

“Did you finish, darling?” Aziraphale asked. “I apologize for the abrupt—”

Crowley gently kissed him, cutting off the apology. “I did, Aziraphale. Just rest.”

Aziraphale smiled, even as he felt warmth fill his eyes and he sniffled.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley asked, concerned. “How bad is the pain?”

The angel laughed softly, shaking his head. “It’s not terrible, no worse than normal.”

“You’re crying,” Crowley pointed out, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, my love,” Aziraphale reassured him. “I’m just…I’m happier than I ever thought possible. Sometimes, I think about how close we were to losing this and I don’t think I could have survived that. We were so close to losing each other forever, Crowley.”

Crowley gently kissed him again, wiping away his tears. “But we didn’t. We found each other again, as we always do. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled, holding him closer. “I rather think you’re the one who is stuck with me, Crowley.”

The demon grinned, wrapping an arm around the angel. Aziraphale smiled happily. He loved holding Crowley.

“Do you want me to massage your back?” Crowley offered. “Maybe work out some of the knots.”

“Perhaps a little later. Laying here with you is helping with the ache and I’m reluctant to move,” Aziraphale replied, running his hand through Crowley’s hair. “I must admit, I’m rather frustrated with this corporation. I was greatly enjoying that position.”

Crowley grinned. “We’ll figure something out, some way to support your back in that position. I’m not one to deny someone pleasures.”

They shared a laugh at that. Aziraphale thought about how he and Crowley had an eternity to look forward to. An eternity to be together, to try new things and have new experiences, to visit different places. To make love. Thinking about it brought tears to the angel’s eyes. It was what he had always dreamed of but never dared hope for.

“I love you, Crowley.”

“I love you too, Aziraphale.”

For a while, the angel and the demon lay in bed, nude. Their bodies glistened with sweat, and they had matching smiles of satisfaction. Aziraphale opened his eyes when he felt Crowley’s leg wrap about his as the demon pulled himself closer. They had slept well the previous night and when they woke up, they made love.

“That was,” Aziraphale started.

“Mmhm,” Crowley murmured in agreement, his eyes still closed. Aziraphale kissed the demon’s brow. He rested a hand on Crowley’s chest, marveling at his beauty.

“Crowley?”

“Hm?”

Aziraphale briefly chewed his bottom lip, thinking over his words. There was something he had been meaning to speak to Crowley about, but he was figuring out how.

“We haven’t really spoken about where we shall live permanently,” Aziraphale began. Crowley opened his eyes and looked over at the angel. “This place is cozy, and it feels like home, but you have always spoken so fondly of Alpha Centauri. If that is where you wish to live, then I shall happily go with you. We can make our home there.”

Crowley tilted his head a little and pushed himself up onto his elbow. “But…you love Earth. This is the only home you have ever known. This has always been where you are happiest and most content.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “Home has always been with you, where you are. I am happiest with you. I do love the Earth, but I’m perfectly happy to make our home elsewhere and visit here on occasion. Crowley, you have sacrificed so much for us. Living in the place where you are happiest is something I will gladly do for you, for us.”

Crowley leaned forward, capturing Aziraphale’s lips. The angel smiled, shivering when he felt Crowley’s warm hand on his side. Crowley’s touch was one of the most pleasurable feelings in the world and Aziraphale loved it.

“I appreciate the offer,” Crowley murmured, leaning back again. “But Earth is home. It always has been. We met in the heavens above it, our bond was forged here. I suggested running away to Alpha Centauri because it felt safe from Heaven and Hell, a place that could be ours, but we have made certain they will never bother us again. I have even grown fond of this cozy little place.”

Crowley paused briefly, looking up to the ceiling. A content smile danced across his face.

“Your life was spared in this cottage and here was where we reunited, where we finally became an us,” he continued, looking back to the angel. “This is our home, Aziraphale. It always has been, and it always will be.”

Aziraphale pushed himself up on an elbow, showering Crowley’s face with kisses. His eyes welled with tears of joy. True, he would have followed Crowley to the ends of the universe, to wherever the demon would be happiest. But to know that Earth was the place Crowley was happiest was a relief to Aziraphale, for the angel still loved the planet and its people.

“We shall still visit Alpha Centauri often,” Aziraphale promised between kisses. “Whenever you wish. It shall be our second home.”

Crowley grinned and captured Aziraphale’s lips. Then he made his way down to Aziraphale’s chest, making the angel moan in pleasure.

“How does your back feel?” Crowley murmured between kisses. Aziraphale smiled.

“In a prone position, it feels good as new,” Aziraphale replied. “Perhaps some light activity would help me bounce back faster.”

Crowley grinned, leaning forward and hungrily kissing Aziraphale, exploring with his tongue. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He gasped when Crowley nibbled his ear and then his neck.

“Feeling better already,” Aziraphale said, groaning softly as Crowley continued exploring his body. The demon paused, as he usually did, gazing at Aziraphale with those beautiful gold eyes.

“Once more and then lunch?” Crowley asked.

The angel gazed lovingly at the demon as Crowley straddled him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he agreed, grasping Crowley’s hips.

**

Aziraphale smiled as he traced invisible lines on Crowley’s back, looking over at the trees. He gently shook Crowley, and the demon lifted his head, looking at him.

“Nightingale,” Aziraphale said, pointing towards the bird perched in the tree. Crowley grinned slightly, peering over to where the angel was pointing.

“Mmmm, she’s not singing though,” Crowley replied. The bird started warbling and the two smiled at the beautiful sound.

“I will miss the songs of birds of this planet while we travel,” Aziraphale mentioned, watching as Crowley sat up.

“You spoke with Muriel about housesitting while we’re away, didn’t you?” Crowley asked, looking up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, and the stars were just starting to twinkle in the sky.

“Yes, they readily agreed. And Maggie is going to help them,” Aziraphale replied. The demon squeezed the angel’s hand.

“I have something for you,” Aziraphale told him, barely able to conceal his excitement. Crowley turned his beautiful gold eyes to the angel, his angel, and studied him.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m afraid I had an ulterior motive in sending you out on errands earlier today.”

Crowley looked amused. “Is that why I was not allowed to enter in the front when I got back?”

“Maybe,” Aziraphale said slyly. Crowley quirked an eyebrow.

Aziraphale beamed and straightened up, rising to his feet without letting go of Crowley’s hand. The demon smiled as he watched him.

“What are you up to, angel?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise. Come on,” Aziraphale said, practically bouncing on his heels. Crowley smirked as he stood up.

“Lead the way.”

Aziraphale giggled, turning and hurrying back to the cottage door, never letting go of Crowley’s hand. He could barely contain his excitement. The angel had been waiting for this moment for hours, practically vibrating throughout the day in anticipation. He had been planning this for a very long time and was ecstatic that it was finally time to show Crowley.

He led the demon into the main room of the cottage, turning back to him. Aziraphale used a small miracle to turn on the lights, better illuminating the room. He couldn’t wait to see Crowley’s reaction.

“Stand right here,” he said as he moved over to the new object. Crowley stood in the middle of the room, looking slightly nervous. He frowned when he noticed the strange shape with a towel thrown over it.

“What’s that?” he asked, tilting his head a little as he stared at it.

“It just arrived this afternoon. I think I put it together correctly, but you should check to make sure,” Aziraphale said as he stood in front of the form that was covered with a towel. The angel pulled the towel off and stepped aside so the demon could better see the object.

Crowley’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, staring at the new telescope that was set up by the window. A small smile danced across his lips as he reached out and ran his hand over the smooth black casing. Aziraphale folded the towel and placed it on a nearby chair, feeling a little nervous. He knew Crowley didn’t like surprises, especially after the whole Jim mess, but Aziraphale simply couldn’t resist. He did so love to see his partner happy. Few things made Crowley happier than the stars.

“I researched it, and this is apparently one of the best there is,” he started babbling, watching as Crowley looked through the telescope at the sky. “But if you prefer another one, we can always get that instead. I know how much you enjoy the heavens and the stars, so—”

Crowley moved over to him and captured his lips, kissing him deeply and passionately. The feeling of love was overwhelming, and the angel sunk into it, practically falling to his knees. He wrapped his arms around Crowley and returned the kiss just as passionately. My friend, my love, my Crowley, he thought, his heart practically bursting with joy.

It felt like they kissed for hours, but finally separated for breath. Aziraphale grinned, still holding Crowley, who was smiling at him.

“I take it you like it?” Aziraphale said. Crowley rested his brow against the angel’s, nodding.

“I love you,” he whispered. Aziraphale gently kissed him again.

“I love you too, dear,” he replied. “Forever and always.”

They stood there for a brief period of time, simply enjoying feeling the other. Aziraphale was looking forward to traveling to Alpha Centauri with his partner, to experiencing a galaxy that Crowley helped create, but he was also looking forward to continuing to build a home here with Crowley.

Eventually, Crowley took a step back, smirking at the angel.

“I have something for you as well,” Crowley mentioned, nodding towards the front door. “It’s outside.”

Aziraphale grinned. “It’s not a hellhound, is it?”

Crowley laughed. “Afraid not. Nothing quite so exciting.”

The angel chuckled and stepped over to the door, opening it. He and Crowley stepped outside. Aziraphale looked over at the Bentley and his mouth dropped open.

“Crowley,” he said, shocked. Instead of all black, like it always had been, the Bentley now had prominent gold stripes along its side.

“It was partly the Bentley’s doing, but…I think it suits it, being our car and all,” Crowley said with a nonchalant shrug. Aziraphale beamed and leaned against Crowley, resting his head on the demon’s shoulder.

“I love it,” he murmured. “It’s so pretty.”

He felt Crowley kiss his head and closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the clean country air. He felt Crowley extend his wings and he spread his mostly healed wings. They brushed against each other as the angel and the demon stood outside, holding hands, enjoying the perfect night.

In the early years of their relationship, Aziraphale had often marveled at the sense of love he could feel coming from the demon. As he spent more time on Earth, he realized that inhabitants of the planet had an innate ability to love, no matter what their species.

Over the years Aziraphale learned both he and Crowley were beings of love, their core was one of love, and that was perhaps why they ended up befriending each other and eventually fell in love with each other. Everything they did was done out of love: for the world, for humans, for each other.

Once again reunited, the angel and the demon were looking forward to the next chapter of their lives. Together, as they always would be.

The End