Chapter Text
Aziraphale knew it was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea the moment the thought crossed his mind. But regardless, he reacted accordingly. What else could he do? Not only was his life on the line, but Crowley's as well, and that was far more important to him.
The moment he heard the plan for the surprise extermination of demons, he undermined every rule, order, angel, and miracle to lock Heaven down. Every staircase, elevator, and back door was held tight by one key that Aziraphale was going to hold in his dying hands. Because he knew that outcome was going to be inevitable. The alarms were already blaring and he was doing his best to ignore the loud ringing and flashing lights.
Despite the fact he trapped himself among the other angels, painting the biggest and brightest target on his back, he felt calm. He sat on the floor of his office, hands in his lap as he focused on the small globe before him. Sadly he forgot about the fact there was at least one angel down on Earth who could hear the alarms, and they were in close proximity to the very creature he was doing all this for.
Through his globe he could see Crowley trying his hardest to open up the closest elevator, and quickly finding that it wasn't going to grace him with his presence. The demon had quickly done the same for every other hidden entrance, growing increasingly more distressed with each locked door he found. The demon was glaring up at the sky through his dark glasses, swearing up at the clouds, but Aziraphale felt no guilt. Aside from not taking the opportunity to say goodbye one last time.
Fed up with the locked doors, Crowley threw caution to the wind in favor of letting his black wings explode from the ethereal plane and launch himself into the sky. If he can't get in through conventional means, he'll make a new entrance. Aziraphale frowned in distress when he watched Heaven's invisible walls smack Crowley down like a measly fly. The poor demon slammed into the ground with a cough, choking on his own air. But he forced himself to recover before doing it again. And again. And again. And again.
Crowley repeatedly fell over and over, wings slowly becoming just as disheveled as his clothes and hair, glasses long forgotten from the first attempt. He didn't care about the tears falling from his face as he heaved himself up once again, his attempts beginning to slow down as the pain and exhaustion caught up.
After being slammed down again, Crowley could do nothing but shake and sob as he laid on the ground. His hand clenched into a weak fist, hitting the ground in his rebellion and slowly pushed himself to his knees before collapsing under his own weight. His wings burned, a sensation he hadn't felt since he Fell.
“You idiot…” Crowley sobbed and pressed his face into his arm, quivering as his emotions hit him. “Is this your way of apologizing?! Well I don't want it!” He turned his head up, glaring at the sky again that had become darker from his emotions changing the weather.
“You hear me, Aziraphale! You can take your apology and shove it!” He shouted, soft bolts of lightning scattering through the dark clouds. “You're going to get yourself killed and I can't be there for you this time……” His voice tapered off to a pathetic whimper, leaving him crying into his arm.
Aziraphale tucked his head into his shoulders, his own tears falling from his face. Crowley's image in the globe blew up to life size, allowing Aziraphale to see every painstaking detail on Crowley's distraught and begging face. He reached out his hand as if to take Crowley's own, hoping he could somehow reach down and soothe the demon's worries. He didn't even realize that his own wings had come out and over the clone, trying to protect them. But his hand merely phased through the projection, leaving him crying just as hard as the demon was.
“I'm so sorry… I'm doing this for you. Please forgive me.” He begged to the open air, sniffling and holding true to his decision.
Perhaps it was silly, but Aziraphale always liked the term guardian angels. Humans always believed there was some form of them. A family member guiding them through life, or an old friend protecting them from harm. And while they're never true, as unfortunate as that fact is, Aziraphale did like to indulge in the idea.
Perhaps he himself was Crowley's guardian angel. He's made some hard decisions for the both of them for the betterment of Crowley after all. All of this was for Crowley. So perhaps he could be classified as the demon's guardian. After all he was, or had, been his angel.
“Come back, Angel. Please.”
“I'm so sorry.”
He could live with this final title. If he couldn't be with Crowley as his partner, at least he could be with him as his guardian angel.