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“Perhaps just a few more minutes,” Aziraphale thought to himself, rather nervously. He sat down on the new sofa, which he still hadn’t gotten used to. “Oh, I don’t have the patience for this,” He concluded. He stood up and checked the oven. The muffins were nearly done, but not quite. With a small motion of his hand, the contents of the pan were instantly cooked to perfection. He donned the oven mitts and set them out to cool. While he liked doing things the human way, sometimes he couldn’t help himself.
The front door suddenly swung open. “Evening, Angel,” Crowley said, entering the cottage.
“Oh hello, dear,” Aziraphale replied. “I just finished cooking the muffins,” he said, gleefully boasting about his accomplishment.
He was preparing a homecooked feast as a part of their anniversary. Since they didn’t know when to officially mark the beginning of their relationship, they figured the day they moved in together would suffice. The two of them had purchased this plot of land exactly a year ago. The anticipation of living together overwhelmed both of them so much, that rather than go through the process of constructing their cottage like the humans did, they worked together to miracle a dwelling perfect for two cohabitating celestial beings.
A soft smile emerged on Crowley’s face as they took their shoes off and spread out over the empty sofa. Aziraphale sat, admittedly a little uncomfortably, squished in between the arm of the sofa and Crowley’s head. The two adjusted and Crowley laid their head atop Aziraphale’s lap and he ran his hand through their now shoulder length auburn hair. The two sat in a content silence, just happy to exist near the other.
Neither of them could believe their turmoil was finally over. Heaven had seemed rather scared of them after their last escapade and Hell barely had the organization to accomplish anything these days.
Aziraphale was finally at peace with himself for loving Crowley. He had come to understand that some things were beyond his understanding, and even angels such as the Metatron stretched the truth about the “Will of God.” There were so many unknowns in the universe, but Aziraphale had his one known: he loved Crowley. And that was finally enough for him. And Crowley had begun to accept the parts of themself they kept tucked away. They finally felt worthy of love and that they were allowed to love others, and there was no one on Earth or in any corner of the universe they wanted to share this love with more than Aziraphale. They both could finally exist in peace; just the two of them, on their own side.
Aziraphale eventually broke the silence. “How is the garden, dear? Have you finally decided to try growing plants without striking fear into their poor souls?” He teased.
“Ngk,” they let out as they began to sit up. “Laugh all you want angel, but until your side of the garden is home to prize winning flowers, I think I’ll keep mine the way it is.” They stared down a potted plant sitting on the windowsill until it started trembling with fear.
“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale huffed. “That really is quite unnecessary.” With a swift motion of his hand, the plant calmed down, now engrossed in dream of endless water and sunlight (that is, if plants could even dream).
There was a second of silence between the two before they glanced at each other and erupted with laughter. Crowley let their head fall back into Aziraphale’s lap and he bent over and kissed them on the forehead. “And with that, I think it’s time for dinner,” Aziraphale concluded. He began making his way to the table to unveil the main course. “I really think you’re going to like this one!” He began turning around to address Crowley directly. “I know you’re not one for eating but I think you’ll find—"
As quickly as he could blink, he realized he and Crowley were no longer in their home, but in a shiny, sleek, white, and sterile environment. As soon as they recognized where they were, they froze. They were in a large room, and in front of them laid a pulpit with a book resting on top. One could almost mistake this scene for a wedding. Being in Heaven made Crowley instinctually feel uneasy. It caused them no physical pain, but staying there for a prolonged time made them feel disoriented. Aziraphale wasn’t fairing much better, overwhelmed with a sheer sense of panic at the scene that laid before them.
“Angel,” Crowley hissed quietly. Their face was trying to provide comfort but also desperately seeking answers. Crowley knew this place. Outside that window was their final memory of Heaven as an angel. This wasn’t a wedding at all. It was a funeral. “Be ready to run,” they mouthed.
“Ah, a pleasure that you both were able to join us,” a sly voice said calmly. Michael soon emerged and made their way to the pulpit. Both beings stood there unable to move.
“M-Michael!” Aziraphale stammered. “Long time, no see.” He swallowed, trying to calm himself. He was able to muster a sentence through nervous laughter. “And what exactly are we joining you for today?”
“Your trials for your crimes against the institutions of Heaven and Hell, of course.” They turned their face to Crowley and unleashed a devilish grin. “Both of you.”
Crowley’s brow furrowed, but just as they opened their mouth to speak, Michael interrupted them. “Ah, yes. Hell may have decided to no longer take responsibility for you, but since you were once an angel, we still have some semblance of jurisdiction over you.”
“We?” Crowley interjected. “What have we done? Who else is here?”
“We are.”
Three bodies began to make their way in a line behind Michael.
“Heaven has taken no delay in tallying up your transgressions.” Uriel.
“Without Gabriel in charge, the four of us have been able to take a clear look at your history.” Sandalphon.
“And, boy, are you both in for it.” Saraqael.
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other intently and nodded in agreement. They outstretched their wings and bent their knees, preparing to take flight and escape. As their legs rose off the ground, each outstretched an arm to take the other’s hand. Just as their fingers were about to touch, both beings found their bodies jolting back, unable to progress forward. Michael rolled their eyes and held the bridge of their nose between their thumb and pointer finger. “Did you really think we wouldn’t think of that?” They sounded almost disappointed. “Sandalphon, if you please.”
With a motion of his hands, golden chains were soon visible around Crowley and Aziraphale’s wrists and ankles. “Does it help you to see them?” Michael said belittlingly. Crowley recognized these chains, but before now, to Aziraphale, they had only been legend. The demons would often use them to torture human souls who wound up in their department. The material they were made of was strong enough to hold even Satan deep within the lowest pit of Hell. No miracle or other force could break them. They were trapped.
“Surely there’s been a misunderstanding!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I thought everything between us had been settled. As long as we stayed out each other’s business, nothing needs to be done.” He kept trying to feign a smile to keep things friendly, but not even he was buying it. He shot a panicked look in Crowley’s direction. “And they’re a demon. Haven’t they been punished enough?” Crowley knew Aziraphale had only said that last part to protect them, but it still hurt.
“Yeah, Aziraphale’s got a point,” they interjected. “We may be occul-, er, excuse me, ethereal forces, but we still have rules. And you kidnapping a demon certainly has to be breaking at least one of them.”
“New rules,” Michael smiled. “No more Gabriel, remember?”
Unable to move, Crowley and Aziraphale could only look at each other in horror. The only solace was that they were here together, albeit unable to reach out and touch the other; but they could find a way out of this.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Michael stated. They looked at the row of angels behind them, who all nodded in agreement. “Now, I’d very much like to see those wings again.”
Saraqael snapped her fingers and Crowley and Aziraphale each began feeling their wings being forcefully raised. They resisted, despite knowing it was in vain. The sight of what was to come would be so glorious to behold that, had it been visible from Earth, it would be the cause of a new religion. The blackness of night began emerging from Crowley’s back. Their tattered wings began spreading out in beautiful ripples of darkness; the only darkness to be found within Heaven. As Aziraphale’s pristinely cleaned white wings were being raised, they began shimmering like water on a lake, until the pearlescent feathers had all emerged. Under any other circumstances, this would have been magnificent.
“Aziraphale and Crowley. You have been found guilty of collaborating with the opposing side, thus interfering with the divine plan,” Michael stated. This was clearly a rehearsed speech. “Since you seem to do everything together, we will list your sins together.”
- Asking questions that undermine and challenge the will and plan of the The Almighty
- Giving away the flaming sword presented to you at The Beginning
- Interfering with The Almighty’s bet with your former master Satan
- Consuming Earthly foods and drink
- Lying to members of your respective head offices
- Performing temptations as an angle and blessings as a demon
- Actively sabotaging Armageddon
- Entering the opposite head office without express permission
- Fraternizing with the enemy
Aziraphale avoided eye contact with Crowley upon the last mention, still feeling ashamed of himself for ever saying such a thing. He had spent the past year working with Crowley to accept that his past actions were ok, and here he was, living the nightmare his past-self feared more than anything else. And worst of all, Crowley was in just as much danger as he was. Although, they were already a demon and Aziraphale wasn’t certain if a demons could even fall twice. He had never seen these angles take this much authority. He didn’t like where this was going.
“Any questions? Oh, but I suppose you should know, we still don’t allow those.” They shot a look at Crowley.
“Yeah, just one,” Crowley said slyly. Aziraphale turned his head down slightly to conceal the smile that crossed his face. He loved his partner’s ability to easily defy the forces of Heaven. “Why are we here? This is old stuff. For most of it, we’ve already faced, what I would believe to be, adequate punishment.” They tilted their head towards Aziraphale. “Don’t you agree, Angel?”
He felt a frog in his throat but found the strength within him to continue anyway. “Oh yes, quite so. I think we all can agree we’ve faced quite enough already.” He smiled again, hoping to appeal to Michael’s sense of mercy. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to have one.
Uriel made a comment from behind Michael, much to their annoyance. “You’re here because you’ve escaped the necessary punishments for far too long. Earth has made you soft and it’s time to face the consequences.”
“And, quite frankly, we want vengeance against you for making Heaven our personal Hell,” Michael concluded. “It’s been an absolute nightmare trying to undo the damage you two have done.”
Michael turned to the angles behind them and Uriel and Sandalphon began to make their way forward. Saraquel was still maintaining her celestial grip on Crowley and Aziraphale’s wings. Uriel approached Aziraphale and Sandalphon approached Crowley. As Sandalphon neared Crowley, he reached out his hand and plucked a feather from their wing. Goosebumps coursed their whole body. They were suddenly very aware of their physical being, not liking how exposed they felt. Uriel repeated the same for Aziraphale.
“You know, we thought about simply destroying you with holy water and hellfire. But what a quick and unjust way to end the plague you both have been on the universe. Since you stood in place of each other during our last attempt, we came up with a much better idea,” Michael sneered. “You’ve entered Heaven multiple times since you’ve fallen, so, Demon!” Their voice echoed. They made unbroken eye-contact with Crowley’s fear-stricken face before giving their order.
“Pray.”
Crowley felt their vocal folds begin moving against their will. They had no power in Heaven. Not anymore. They tensed their neck to try and stop it, but the words of an ancient prayer began to escape their lips. Each word burned their mouth and body as it was spoken into existence. It felt as though the very fibers holding them together were fraying at the center, desperately trying to hold on. They felt their neck begin to move upwards, until they were forced to look to the Heavens as they began crying praises to God. Once the prayer finished, they repeated it in another language. And another. And another. Their voice grew scratchy, and tears began streaming down their face. Aziraphale could only look on and listen in horror as the only being who ever truly understood him was writhing in agony. It was as if they were being destroyed from the inside out; being made holy from within. Aziraphale wished deeply to finally be able to be the one to save Crowley from danger, but Michael continued.
“And you, Aziraphale,” they sneered. “You’ve entered Hell as an angel, broken several long-established rules, and performed temptations, so, fall.”
Aziraphale’s face dropped. Crowley fought every power working against them to pull their head over to look at their husband. They tried to scream, but could only shout the pre-determined words louder, hurting themself more in the process. Tears began welling in Aziraphale’s eyes. He was able to catch Crowley’s gaze. He understood every unspoken word contained within it, and it hurt him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Angel.” For six thousand years, this was the only secret Crowley had managed to keep from Aziraphale. They never wanted to burden their angel with the tortures of their fall, and here they were, being forced to watch him experience it first-hand.
“Well,” Aziraphale said meekly, surprising everyone in the room. Crowley, whose head had since been forced back upwards, shifted their eyes, and caught him in their peripheral. “If I fall,” He took a pause in order to muster up courage. “I know who’s catching me.” It was all he could do to try and prepare for whatever happened next. He wasn’t scared of being a demon anymore, and oh, so blissfully unaware that he should have been terrified of how he would get there.
He instantaneously felt his back blister and boil. Everything stung. Flames began emerging from the base of his wings. He was in so much pain he was unable to open his eyes. His mind was inundated with horrendous thoughts, all of which were his own, but more violent and twisted than anything he had dared to imagine before. And what was worse, was that he wanted it. His heart was racing, and his chest was burning. Probably literally. The prayers escaping Crowley’s lips soon burned his eardrums, making the only voice that had been able to bring him comfort increasingly more unbearable with every passing second. He could feel everything joyful and full of life, the core of his being, slowly die within him. It hurt. He tried to find the mental strength to grieve the loss of himself as the darkness began taking over. He could feel his connection with God severing. Fire began slowly crawling and crackling up his wings. He could feel every fiber of every feather begin to die.
The two had no idea how long they were there for. It could have been all of a minute or half of eternity. Thinking took insurmountable amounts of energy, and they barely had the ability to wonder how much time they had left, before whatever these feelings were, consumed them completely. Neither were able to register the sound of the book on the pulpit opening. They could, however, hear Michael’s voice, if only barely.
“See, the problem is, celestial torture isn’t enough. We need to ensure you don’t do anything of the sort again. Or rather, that it never happened to begin with.”
Uriel and Sandalphon stood on either side of Michael and presented the feathers they had plucked from the traitors earlier. They took Aziraphale’s feather and dipped it into an inkwell. As the feather made it closer to the page, Aziraphale felt his body begin to grow cold, despite it still very much being consumed by fire. His mind went numb, and thinking wasn’t difficult anymore, but rather unnecessary. Nothing seemed to matter. Where was he? His consciousness began drifting off into nothingness.
Crowley understood what was happening. They tried to scream. “BASTARDS!! STOP IT!! NO! DON’T ERASE MY ONLY FRIEND!! DON’T! PLEASE!!! NO!! YOU CAN’T!! NO!!” They managed to break free from their trance, but only just enough to hold onto a word a few seconds longer than usual before the holiness returned and continued to dissolve them. Just as the ink soaked feather was about to make contact with the page, a light bright enough to blind any mortal human materialized directly in front of Michael.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” it scolded.
The voice pierced through and extinguished the excruciating pain Crowley was feeling and the death that lingered dangerously close to Aziraphale. Their strained bodies could now release. Crowley could finally cease talking and Aziraphale’s mind began returning to its usual state, but the feathers that had been charred remained as such. Crowley was left sitting on the ground, throat still burning, and Aziraphale sat likewise, still able to feel the boils that covered his back. Before them all, stood the Metatron.
“I’m doing what previous management was too cowardly to do,” Michael responded.
“Which is?” the Metatron inquired.
“Erasing the two traitors from the book of life,” Michael stated matter-of-factly.
“Oh, my dear, you’ve all been thinking too small,” the Metatron stated with a voice that sounded as though it was designed to conceal terrors worse than anything found in Hell. “What do all of their sins have in common?”
“They…they go against the divine plan! They’ve broken the rules of the Almighty,” Michael nervously stammered, trying to re-evaluate the situation. The Metatron turned to look at Crowley and Aziraphale, who were weakly laying on the ground, and scowled, making sure they saw him.
“They all were designed to protect humanity…and each other. And surely, we could help them along with this, don’t you think?” Michael and the others stared blankly in confusion.
“Well, if I must spell it out for you, I will,” the Metatron continued. “Send them to Earth again.”
“But then how to we win? They get to live together on Earth? They were already doing that!” Michael interjected.
“As humans,” The Metatron added. “Humans, of course, have relatively short lifespans; however, there is no clear deadline. Perhaps you could find your sense of vengeance in the fact that they will be tormented with the uncertainty of when that will be, until it’s over. So, we relinquish full responsibility and ownership for these traitors, let them expire, and continue as usual.”
Panic instantly grew deep within Crowley and Aziraphale. They wanted to spend eternity together, but not like this. And what would happen to them? No angel or demon has ever been turned human before. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone stood in stunned silence. Even Michael looked slightly uncomfortable at the suggestion. There would be no returning from this decision. Eyes darted around the room and the angels began to try communicate without speaking or drawing the attention of the Metatron, who was standing there awaiting a response.
Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t dare move, yet couldn’t help but steal glances at each other, trying to take in the image of the other. Aziraphale took in Crowley’s eyes, admiring the piercing yellow that had gazed upon him for the past 6,000 years. He looked at the inky blackness that was their wings. They were more tattered than usual, having been relentlessly scorched. He tried to remember what it had felt like to run his fingers through them. Crowley gazed at Aziraphale. They saw his shining white wings peppered with black feathers. Seeing Aziraphale in that state tormented them in ways the prayers they just spoke could never reach. They had no qualms with the distinction between angles and demons, but understood what it meant for Aziraphale. He loved being and angel, and Heaven was taking that away from him.
“No,” Crowley thought. They wanted to shout but as they moved their vocal cords to speak, nothing phonated. Despite the pain and physical impossibility of them ever creating sound again, Crowley began to tap into their imagination, and spoke. “Y…You can’t do this!” their voice was airy and gravely, sounding reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. It didn’t help that they were on the verge of tears. “You can’t take away our eternity together,” they pled.
“Well, unfortunately for you, wily serpent, it’s already been decided,” the Metatron stated. “I am the Will of God. She cannot hear you here. And I deem it done!”
Crowley mouthed “Why?” but found themself unable to speak again.
“Fret not, demon. You’ll be able to ask your questions amongst the humans, where they belong.” The Metatron began moving his hand as if performing a blessing. The two barely had time to see that Michael stepped in front of the Metatron in an attempt to stop him before their vision began fading. They each felt their essences
*snap*
and suddenly, they found themselves standing in a crowded park. To the surrounding people, it seemed like any other day. The sun was out, children were laughing, people were gossiping. All residents of the park failed to register the two adults that stood shell-shocked on the sidewalk, breathing heavily.
Aziraphale stood with his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. This was impossible. This hadn’t just happened. He would have completely dissociated had the sensation of his hands touching each other and his face not been alarmingly grounding. He was hyper aware of his physical form. He felt his connection with God dissolve, or at the very least evolve into something new and unfamiliar. In a vain attempt, he tried to outstretch his wing to Crowley, but there was nothing there. Crowley stood with their hands by their side. This had to have been a trick. They knew Heaven was crazy, but this was ridiculous. Their first instinct was to report the news to Hell to get help, but then they remembered: they had felt Hell’s grip loosen on them, and they would be lying if they said it hadn’t brought some sense of relief. They wondered where they stood with God now. But it was over. No more “forever.” No more Alpha Centauri. No more sides. That last idea was normally a source of comfort, but now it created a pit deep within their stomach.
The pair stood frozen and in silence for what felt like forever, stuck in a prison of their own thoughts. Neither knew what to say or how to even move. They soon became aware of their connection to the universe changing in real time. Crowley couldn’t feel the stars anymore. Aziraphale couldn’t feel the flashes of love present across the earth. Heaven was rapidly becoming a distant memory. Had they been asked, neither of them could remember what Michael’s face looked like. Yet, they felt their connection to the earth grow. The air that filled their lungs felt refreshing and rejuvenating. The earth suddenly seemed much larger, and they could see the significance in everything. They were a part of it now, after all.
Once they finally got the strength to turn their heads to look at each other, their eyes met. Aziraphale took note of Crowley’s eyes. Their usual yellow glow was now replaced with ones of a lighter brown hue and pupils now shaped like his own. Their skin had various scratches on it, specifically around their neck. It was a rather alarming sight, but he didn’t have the energy to relax, nor did he think drawing their attention to it would help the situation. Similarly, Crowley was greeted to a disheveled looking Aziraphale. His hair was all messy and his clothes were torn across various places. They wondered if he still had the boils along his back.
Yet, as they stared desperately at the other, each came to the same conclusion. They wanted to help the other. Aziraphale wanted to wash the dirt off Crowley’s face and tend to their wounds. Crowley wanted to repair Aziraphale’s jacket and heal his back. While they both may have felt a part of themselves die after they were cast out, they began to realize they could find new life within each other. They may not have a long time, but they also had all the time in the world.
That evening consisted of them retreating to their cottage, mostly in silence. They both shed silent tears, each trying to conceal them in hopes of being strong for the other. Losing their etherealness made them feel empty and it was glaringly obvious that something was missing. The food from earlier was still on the table untouched except for the few bugs that had made their way through an open window. Aziraphale made note of this, being reminded of the years they spent raising Warlock and teaching him about all the animals in the world. It pained him to accept that this is what all that had led to, but he supposed it started much earlier than that. Maybe he was always doomed to, and worthy of, banishment.
As he stumbled through the dark, both of them were started by the sound of metal clanging. He had kicked something; the muffin tin lay on the floor, right where Aziraphale was standing before he was taken. Aziraphale felt sick. He instantly fell to the floor, but Crowley caught him. They led him to bed and the two held each other as they fell asleep.
----
Adjustment to human life certainly wasn’t as easy as the two had imagined. Sure, they had lived on Earth for six thousand years, but there was so much about humans that had been a mystery to them. Small cultural differences really. Although they didn’t seem so small anymore.
Firstly, the two needed new clothes. Aziraphale had insisted right away, and Crowley soon agreed when they realized strangers gave them weird looks when they wore nothing but tattered clothes, that were otherwise rather formal. Much to Crowley’s disappointment, most human clothes came pre-made in stores and weren’t miracled to perfectly suit the given occasion. After purchasing new suits, they realized, they would need money. Most humans had jobs. And, yes, they had kept up the appearance of jobs (or at least Aziraphale had) but even then, the two never actually sold anything before. There was a week on Earth where the two were haphazardly talking to the computer in the back of the bookshop, attempting to communicate, before realizing it was done via the keyboard.
Dear computer, what do people do at a job? Thank you. Dear computer, please give us human jobs. Thank you. Dear computer, where does one find a job? Thank you. Dear computer, you’re not being very helpful!! Dear computer, I apologize for my tone earlier. Etc.
They both tried picking up work at various places, with varying levels of success. Aziraphale was hired in a corporate job and found some semblance of comfort in the structure of the workplace. He was shocked to find it similar to his time as a Principality. He overall adjusted pretty well to the new environment, although he did have to excuse himself to the restroom to cry the first time his boss notified him of some small mistakes he made. Unsure of the ramifications of this, but assuming they’d be dire, he felt like he couldn’t show his face, but would get in more trouble for leaving. He desperately wanted Crowley to come rescue him, but the two of them couldn’t just pop in and out of reality anymore. He felt trapped and tried praying, but that elicited even more complicated emotions. It was a hard day. But Crowley was there to listen as soon as he came home and made him a nice cup of tea to calm his nerves.
Finding work was harder for Crowley, mostly because they had trouble focusing for the entirety of the work day. They spent their time tiding up the bookshop (which was still being used for storage) and maintaining the cottage and making sure Aziraphale would always come home to a house worth living in. Eventually, they found a job working as a florist, although it was significantly more work without the help of demonic intervention.
Then, there was the matter of themselves and their human bodies. Human bodies, as it so happens, are susceptible to multitudes of diseases and ailments. Aziraphale’s escapes to the work bathroom were getting more and more frequent and he seemed to always be sick. Living in a state of constant anxiety was finally taking its toll. One of his co-workers suggested therapy and potentially medication, both options Aziraphale was previously unaware existed. He would have to take them into consideration. Another one of his co-workers overheard him talking about Crowley, and explained it sounded like they had been living with ADHD for their whole life and provided more advice. Aziraphale wanted to remember all of the information, but felt overwhelmed with all the new human terminology.
Crowley had to learn to like to eat, but luckily for them, Aziraphale was always willing to cook their favorite dishes. Similarly, Aziraphale had to learn to like to sleep, although it was easier considering just how easily the two of them grew tired now. Neither of them had previously been aware of just how frequently human bodies needed nourishment or rest, but they did their best to keep themselves healthy.
Next, there was the sense of community. For 6,000 years, neither had needed solace beyond each other, and while that remained mostly true now, both felt their human souls craving connection with others. They began walking together through the surrounding neighborhoods. Sometimes they would go to the park and just sit together, looking up at the sky, and feeling the breeze against their bodies. They would go on walks. The energy between them tensed when the couple passed the nearby church. Neither knew their place there anymore. Crowley was fully welcome in, without threat of physical injury, but didn’t dare ponder on if this transformation had absolved them of any of their transgressions. Aziraphale wanted desperately to run in, but didn’t dare indulge the impulse, knowing it would only end with him feeling more desolate than he had before.
One day, while dining out, another frequent customer at their favorite restaurant (a small sandwich shop down the road) recognized them, and asked if they were a couple. Upon finding the answer was a somewhat vague yes, he invited them to a lunch being hosted later that week. When they arrived, Aziraphale and Crowley found the restaurant to be full of people all standing around and getting to know each other. Two lovely women introduced themselves as the couple who owns the bike shop down the road. As they walked around, they were offered flags and pins that came in a variety of colors.
“Ooo what does this one mean?” Aziraphale said, curiously pointing to a pink, blue, and white flag.
“This one is the transgender flag,” The woman sitting at the table answered. “It means you identify as a gender other than the one you were assigned at birth." Crowley leaned in curiously. “Go on…” they insisted, curiously raising an eyebrow.
The woman proceeded to very patiently and kindly explain the vastness of the human experience to Aziraphale and Crowley who were listening very intently. They knew each human was made to be unique, but they had no idea how beautiful it could all be. After about half an hour, they both left the table, each with a small rainbow flag in their hand, several pamphlets explaining human sexuality and gender, and coat pockets stuffed with multiples of each button, as they weren’t sure which ones they would need just yet.
“It was lovely to meet you,” Aziraphale began as they started walking out. “May all your days be as wonderful as this one.” Normally when he said such things, he performed a small miracle, but as the words left his lips, he realized that was impossible now. Crowley took his hand and held it firmly, knowing that thoughts that had just coursed through their husband’s head. The two left the building still holding hands.
After their discovery at the restaurant, the two began to explore who they were as humans, since the identity of angel and demon didn’t seem very appropriate or accurate anymore. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the other was their partner, but now they had time to examine who they were to themselves. Aziraphale’s attitude towards his gender could be best described as apathetic. He still didn’t feel a strong connection to “man,” but tended to feel more comfortable in his usual, more masculine attire (although there were some days when she felt the opposite, although they were rare). Crowley was very much the opposite. Throughout their life, they had always changed their appearance to best suit their mood at the time. They had a harder time adjusting to the fact that they couldn’t quickly alter their hair length or other physical attributes to fit their needs at any given moment. They often felt connections to several of the human concepts of gender, and expressed it in a variety of ways.
The two also had time to think about how they saw each other. Neither had a preference for what term of endearment was used to describe the other (although Crowley had refrained from using “angel” for their first few years as humans, just to play it safe). They knew they loved each other; that was non-negotiable. But there were several earthly physical sides of romance the couple had yet to indulge in, and it peaked their curiosity. They shared one night that ended in a surprising amount of laughter and after some time, the two concluded this wasn’t where their interests lied. Still, the experience had brought them closer and they didn’t regret it.
They enjoyed getting to grow old together. There was a surprising amount of joy in what was supposed to be their punishment. Aziraphale always made it a point to take Crowley to feed the ducks, and Crowley always made it a point to find new restaurants for Aziraphale. The two found themselves frequenting museums, and reminiscing on their history on Earth. Outside observers never questions their initial assumptions of them as atheists, and whenever asked, the two instantly tried to change the subject. Despite this transition forcing them to be more honest with the other than they had ever intended on being, neither of them could fully allow themselves to talk about it with the other. Crowley had an easier time letting Heaven and Hell go, but Aziraphale wished to keep some semblance of God close to himself, even if it was only privately.
As they aged, Aziraphale decided he no longer wished to work under somebody else, and elected to be his own boss. After much deliberation, he and Crowley began to remove all of their belongings being stored in the bookshop and after several months of tidying, the shop was ready for customers. But rather than sell his prized possessions, the couple had worked together to turn it into a literary museum. After all, it was full of remarkably unique historical items, and what better way to find peace with one’s life than by sharing such a rich and personal history with others. (Of course, the character of Mr. Fell, was played off as a pseudonym passed down through generations, as opposed to being an immortal angelic entity.)
There were certain things the Metatron had been right about, however. The threat of death and the unknown of what comes after did haunt them throughout the remainder of their lives. Now that their existence was finite, they had to break their habit of always getting into trouble, in favor of a more relaxed lifestyle. Any time one of them fell ill, there was an unspoken worry if this would be what separated them. While their waking memories were fuzzy and vague, there were nights when one of them would wake up in a cold sweat, having just had a vivid nightmare about their respective former head office. While those nights were never easy, they were manageable with the other by their side to comfort them. Similarly, there were days when one or both of them would desperately miss their former status as an angel or demon, and nothing productive got done. They had to learn to be ok with still taking days of rest, despite now knowing that one day it would all be over. The days of rest eventually turned positive, but it took time for days like that to arrive.
They also missed being able to perform miracles for the other. They missed their wings. They missed knowing the order of the universe. By becoming human, they lost the power to conceptualize ethereal wisdom. Aziraphale missed knowing he was allowed to pray to God, and that She would want to hear him. Crowley missed being an occult force and having permission to cause light mischief, but if they were honest with themself, they felt guilty for not missing it as much as their angel.
But, perhaps, there were things that the Metatron had been wrong about, too. Perhaps, he wasn’t as in tune with God as he had thought. Perhaps, She could hear Aziraphale and Crowley’s deepest wishes, their fears, their desires. Maybe She still knew them, loved them, and cared for them. But regardless, there did come the day when the humans, Crowley and Aziraphale, breathed their last breaths. Their hearts stopped beating and their brain activity stopped. Death came to greet them, recognizing them as old friends. But something stopped him that night from taking their souls. A higher power (the highest power of them all, in fact) had intervened. She wouldn’t let the actions of Her rouge angles separate these two souls.
As soon as their bodies could be declared dead, two babies were born on opposite sides of the world. They would grow up without knowing the other, but would meet one day, and fall in love, feeling as though they have known each other for all of eternity. And when they passed, the process began again. And again. And again.
But it wasn’t enough. Their original spark had been so strong that it couldn’t be contained within such a small vessel. Their love began leaking into anywhere and everywhere that could house it. Every wedding, every private confession of love. Even the unspoken loves that never were.
The more lives they reached, the more their spirits grew. The flocks of nightingales that graced the skies. The bees buzzing on the flowers. Every blade of grass that held dew in the morning. Their love still continued. It couldn’t be contained.
It began stretching across time, becoming dispersed throughout the universe, and bringing balance to it. They became every instance of love that ever has been, and that ever will be, throughout the whole of creation. The sun embracing the earth. It shining into the water. It dipping into the clouds. The moon and the earth. All the stars in the sky. And also, a very specific star: Alpha Centauri.
The closest star to Earth outside of the solar system. Independent of Earth, but still able to watch over it. Although the earth perceives it as one star, it has always been two, shining so bright together to ensure that nothing in the universe has or will ever be able to separate them. As it was in the beginning, for now and ever shall be, from this day forth, forevermore.