Chapter Text
The rhythmic patter of heavy rain drops landing on the rooftop of the Bentley caused Crowley’s mind to wander. The cacophony, while certainly overstimulating when combined with the tape still playing from his stereo, brought him back to a simpler time. All he had to do then was make two silly little humans fall in love, much simpler than his current existence. His unfocused gaze drifted along his windshield to the driver’s side window. He liked to visit this place, he wasn’t sure why considering every time he did he had to find the nearest pub and drink it dry immediately after, but still he came back. His eyes finally landed on them, Nina and Maggie, happy as can be. The two were caught under the awning of Nina’s coffee shop, sort of ironic, Crowley thought. He took in a sharp breath in a poor attempt to mentally prepare for the band-aid he was going to have to rip off, just like he did every time he came to this place. His eyes squeezed shut, his hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. When he managed to open them, there it was, perfectly in order and in fact, perfectly dry – The bookshop. He gritted his teeth, grinding them absent-mindedly as he stared holes into the building's spotless red facade. It was almost painful to look at, like staring right into the sun. Before too long, he tore his eyes away and buried his face in his hands as heavy breaths fell from his lips. That day would play over in his head every moment that it wasn’t preoccupied thinking about something else. Without bothering to look, he cranked the steering wheel and slammed his foot down on the gas, tearing down the street in search of any place that looked like it could make him forget, even if just for the next few hours.
Crowley laid awake in his bed, which would otherwise make sense considering he didn’t need to sleep. But since it happened, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to fall asleep. He used to love to sleep, taking a nap here and there just for the pleasure of it. But today, like every other time in the year or so he attempted to fall asleep, he was wide awake. He had become well acquainted with the portion of the ceiling right above his pillow, studying it carefully for hours just to have something to focus on.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted the cataloging of the various cracks in the ceiling’s paint he had been doing in his head. His head raised off of his pillow, an eyebrow perked up in confusion.
“What?” he muttered to himself. No one ever came here, he made sure of it. Not any human who could get to this apartment would ever be able to physically knock on the door thanks to a little miracle he whipped up many years ago. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he waited quietly. Perhaps if someone, somehow, made it this far, the miracle would kick in and they’d leave.
Another knock at the door, exactly the same as the first.
“What?” he said again, this time a little more frazzled. Now that they had knocked again, he figured he was obligated to answer the door. He hadn’t heard from Hell for an entire year, they had just left him to rot. He wondered if maybe they got bored, or they simply couldn’t function without his talents. Sitting up with a groan, he managed to get himself upright and standing. Carefully, he stepped over a litter of bottles that decorated his bedroom floor and made his way to the front door.
A third knock, identical to the first two in cadence, and notably not any more impatient. When he arrived at the door and reached for its handle, something in the air shifted suddenly. His fingertips buzzed, energy surging up his arm. It was almost…familiar? He pushed past the feeling and swung it open.
“Listen I don’t know what you’re-”
His words quickly disappeared, the figure before him turning around to face him.
“Hello, old friend.” it said warmly, though he could almost detect a hint of sorrow.
He stood dumbfounded, unable to form any coherent sentence, but he was able to form a word, the only word that had been consistently on his mind for an entire year.
“Aziraphale..?” he said, just barely louder than a whisper.
“I’m sure you’re surprised to see me.” he replied, a very small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
As Crowley adjusted to the sight of him, he suddenly realized that he seemed different. A missed belt loop here, a wrinkle there, even his bowie was slightly off center. His brow furrowed, something was clearly wrong. But he wasn’t sure whether to be concerned about the Angel, or to be angry that only now had he come back.
“What are you doing here?” he snarled, shifting his weight and crossing his arms across his chest. Even if he was unsure how to feel, anger was an easy default, especially considering their last interaction.
“I..” his mouth hung open, trying to find what it wanted to say. “I came back to apologize. And I had hoped…perhaps you could help me.” he clasped his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his thumbs as he always had.
“The apology has been a long time coming, if I even feel like accepting it. But you’re seriously asking for my help after everything you’ve done? I’ve always known you were naive, angel, but this is ridiculous. What makes you think I’d ever help you again?” he huffed, red hot rage boiling inside his head.
“I fell.” he mumbled, too quiet for Crowley to actually understand what he said.
“What? You’re going to have to speak up.” he rolled his eyes, he wasn’t going to fall for the old puppy dog routine he’d been falling for for millenia, not this time.
“I fell.” The words sounded powerful, but it was less a declaration of pride like it may be for Crowley, and more an admission of immense guilt.
He snorted, he hadn’t taken the angel to be a liar or a manipulator but he assumed that being in charge of heaven made him into a maniac just like the others. “You’re going to have to try a little harder than that, maybe something a little more realistic this time.”
“Crowley, I’ve never lied to you.” this time his tone waivered, almost like he was begging. He looked him in the eyes, the usual brightness that accompanied his pupils was dim now.
“You..” he looked him up and down, the pieces falling together despite all his efforts to remain irate. Taking a step closer, his eyes traced the outline of all of his facial features, they had never once changed in the thousands of years they’ve known each other. And even though they had been apart, these were details he couldn’t ever bring himself to forget. “Are you human?” he blurted out before he could even process his conclusion.
“No!” he looked almost shocked, but then came that wrinkle in his forehead, the one Crowley knew so well. “At least, I don’t think so. If I will be, I’m not now. But I do know one thing..” he let out a long sigh, his face falling to the floor. “I’m no longer an angel.”
Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line, the gears in his head turning rapidly. He desperately wanted his friend back, but he wasn’t desperate enough to let someone trick him. Shifting forward, he leaned out of his doorway just far enough to peer side to side. Once he thoroughly examined his surroundings and didn’t see, nor feel anything out of the ordinary, he took a step to the side and reluctantly gestured inside.
Aziraphale eagerly hurried inside of Crowley’s dark flat, mumbling soft thanks as he passed him by. He stood somewhat uncomfortable in the corner of the living area near the couch, glancing around the room. As much as he had been thrilled to be welcomed into his home, he new how much Crowley didn’t want him there.
The door swung shut with a click as it latched, though he never bothered to lock the door. He paused for a moment, gripping the door handle tightly. Crowley saw his own hot breath in front of his face which wasn’t peculiar for him in times of frustration. He spun himself around and started towards the angel, his hands squeezed into tight fists at his sides. Stopping in the threshold of the room, he stared hard at Aziraphale behind his sunglasses. Every fiber of him fought against it, but he moved towards the couch and found a relaxed looking position to sit in. Slowly, he removed his glasses to really get a good look at him, and then lifted his hand in the air to vaguely gesture towards him. “Start talking.” he muttered flatly.
The angel wrung his hands anxiously, doing everything he could to avoid meeting his gaze. “Well um..I suppose what happened was..” he stuttered as he spoke, trailing off as if he couldn’t quite push out what he wanted to say. “What happened, you see..” he started once more, and again, his words faded as he sputtered and mumbled.
“Out with it, Angel.” Crowley commanded, his eyes narrowing.
He drew in a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut, bracing for what he knew was going to be almost painful to say. “I disobeyed.” he finally blurted out, letting out his breath like a deflated balloon.
Crowley perked up an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly awaiting his next words. “And..?” he asked.
“Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning.” he fiddled with the front of his button up shirt, compulsively flattening it and straightening out any wrinkles (even though it looked in almost perfect condition). “When I left, I was brought back to heaven, I’m sure you already know.” he threw him a nervous glance, greeted by Crowley’s sour expression. He gulped, somehow even more nervous than before. “But it was different. This time I went to the head office. I-I thought they were putting me in charge. And well, they were, in a way.” he sighed, his shoulders slouching. “But it was too late before I realized they were just using me. They wanted me as a puppet for their plans. My breaking point was when..” his tore his eyes away from the floor, trying once more to actually face the demon. “My breaking point was when they asked me to eradicate you.” his already timid voice shook as he spoke.
Crowley’s eyes widened, the rage within him coming to a simmer instead of the violent boil it had been. He still felt confused, unsure how he wanted to react or even what the right reaction should be. His heart was still broken, and it was all because of him. But now he’s saying he gave it all up, the very thing he abandoned him for, just to save him? “They did what?” his voice couldn’t decide if it was pissed off or just plain bewildered.
“They knew that Hell no longer had ties with you. They figured you had become an independent agent, and that sort of thing, especially when you’re technically still a demon, was a threat to them. Metatron knew of our history, and he thought that I’d have the best chance at getting your guard down.” his eyes suddenly went wide, he threw his hands up in a surrender like position. “Which isn’t what I’m doing now!” he said quickly.
“I don’t know whether I believe you or not, but I know you wouldn’t ever be able to kill me. You’re too…soft.” he looked him up and down once more. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was being truthful since in all their time together he had never known him to be a liar. A twang in his heart, one he was trying so hard to ignore whispered to him that he was to be trusted. “What happened after that?”
Aziraphale lowered his head, shame creeping up the back of his neck. “You know I could never do it. So I told them no, which I’ve never done before.” his hands were now clasped in front of him, though his white knuckles betrayed how tense he still was. “They locked me up, Crowley. I didn’t even know Heaven had a jail until they threw me in it. I’m not sure how long I was in there, but it gave me a lot of time to think. I spent most of it growing more and more guilty about what I’ve done to you.” he let out a long breath, shaking his head solemnly. “But they did eventually come back, after deciding what to do to me. They said since I wouldn’t kill you, they’d exile me. I’d be an outcast. I don’t know if I’ll eventually become human, I’m not even entirely sure what I am now.”