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It happened a lot, Aziraphale mused over a cup of particularly strong tea on a warm spring day. Since they were first brought into existence in the early nineties.
Aziraphale didn’t remember being brought to life; he remembered a brief period of time when he his body felt crowded, and he was more than a thought in Crowley’s head, then there was nothing, and then one day he just appeared on top of the wall in Eden watching Adam and Eve leave with his flaming sword, the serpent who tempted Eve appearing next to him and changing into Crowley.
Living in a book, Aziraphale supposed, wasn’t bad. It was the same story anytime anyone picked them up; Crowley was given a child by Ligur and Hastur, the child was dropped off at the Satanic hospital, antichrist got mixed up, Aziraphale and Crowley raise the wrong boy for eleven years, Aziraphale and Crowley search for the right boy, Aziraphale finds Agnes Nutters book in the backseat of the Bentley, bookshop burns down, they all convene to stop the end of the world in Tadfield, and the world doesn’t end.
Nothing changes. The story is the same for every new reader.
Crowley, at some point after their publication, became enthralled at the idea of them being in a movie, like James Bond. Aziraphale hadn’t paid much attention to the idea much thought, movies didn’t compare to his beloved books and they often removed important plot points and characters for the sake of ‘time’. He couldn’t imagine their authors would ever consent to that, there were just so many details that the angel couldn’t think of being taken out.
Then, two years after their book was published, they arrived.
They didn’t last long. They faded into the vapor as a mere idea then a full fledged idea. Aziraphale was always glad, that Crowley was not a pleasant fellow. The Aziraphale was alright, he had a bright smile and kind eyes but his Crowley spoke so lowly of him, like he didn’t value his companion of 6,000 years.
Bad Crowley (as Crowley dubbed him, although Aziraphale would’ve quickly pointed out how much of an oxymoron that was) was also a club owner, his Crowley was aghast at the idea that his club would play anything but Queen, and severely depressed. In their short time together, all Bad Crowley would do was winge and whine about being a demon, ask to drink his very vintage wine, and winge some more.
Aziraphale was more than thrilled when they disappeared.
He and Crowley had many discussions about those doubles and why they appeared. Crowley was convinced they were film adaptations of them; the Aziraphale that showed looked surprisingly like the lead from Good Morning Vietnam, and Bad Crowley, despite being awful, was a twin to Glen from Nightmare on Elm Street.
Aziraphale thought he was being silly. They would’ve known if they were film adaptations. Maybe the authors were planning a sequel or something.
Things went quiet for a long time after their doubles disappeared. They were still, on occasion, picked up and read, their story reaching millions, but they were mostly left alone to their own devices. Aziraphale was fine with it, too much adventuring was bad on the knees, even angels wearing human corporations! But Crowley was restless and Aziraphale didn’t know how to soothe his demons' itchy feet.
It was 2014 and Aziraphale and Crowley had slipped into a peaceful existence; they ran through their story once or twice a year and relaxed the other half of the time and they couldn’t ask for anything better. Then one day, Aziraphale answered a knock at the door of the bookshop and was nearly discorporated in shock.
A slimmer, more mousey looking version of himself stood in the entrance way of the bookshop, flanked by a Crowley that looked close to his Crowley except instead of a nice suit, wore a black dress shirt and a red tie.
“Oh heavens.” The new Aziraphale gasped before turning to his Crowley. “I didn’t realize the bookshop was occupied.”
Aziraphale quickly ushered the two into the shop and called Crowley, who arrived in two shakes of a lamb's tail and wasted no time in sizing up the two new versions of themselves. For his part, this new Crowley also sized him up, and soon the two were fast friends when they realized neither posed a threat and they each had a preference for good wine and James Bond.
The new Aziraphale at least explained who they were; apparently the BBC had gotten it into their heads to produce a radio drama of their book and they were their voices. Aziraphale was surprised, the BBC producing a radio drama of their work? It was the highest honor the angel could think of, other than being invited to have tea with the queen!
Crowley had grumbled that it was no movie, and when pressed the demon added that he didn’t miss his movie counterpart, that guy sucked, but a movie . Seeing themselves on the big screen! Aziraphale patted Crowley’s hand and reassured him that a radio drama was just as good, and this Crowley and Aziraphale seemed pleasant enough (although did he always sound that pretentious?) that they were worth having around. Crowley seemed contented at least, and the radio versions of them stuck around for a few more days before leaving to their own universe, and once again Aziraphale and Crowley were alone.
For three years, no one new showed up at the bookshop, confirming Aziraphale’s hidden fears that other than the radio drama was going to be the only adaptation of their work. Not that he still wasn’t honored, of course, but it still left a hollow feeling in his chest. Were they not good enough for a proper screen adaptation? Did no one want to take a chance on them?
Crowley had suspicions that their story was too hard to adapt from book to movie or TV show, but Aziraphale always hand wove those away. If movie studios could make sense of even Shakespeare's more complicated plays (albeit with varying results) then they could adapt theres. It just had to be a case of laziness.
It didn’t help that a year after the radio boys appeared, they arrived back to the bookshop with concerned faces, asking about a sad tugging feeling in their chests. Aziraphale and Crowley had felt it too, but no amount of late night discussions, or wine, could explain where it came from. They were all together, their corporations all solidly in place, but it still felt like they were missing a limb, or a human organ.
It was like someone had passed.
Things weren’t all bad, three years after the radio boys had shown up and found their own universe to be comfortable in, two new versions of them showed up at the bookshop. They were odd creatures these new versions; Crowley had been horrified that his hair was not only gray but curley, and Aziraphale really didn’t like how posh he looked, but they were welcomed in just as they had the others.
Aziraphale was particularly chuffed when he found out they were from a musical, a musical! He practically wiggled in his seat as his version discussed all the plans and songs their musical had. He was filled with questions; was the musical being performed on the west end? Did his version need an understudy? What kind of musical was it? Meanwhile his Crowley was the least amused by musical Crowley, continually asking why he was dressed in that tshirt, or why he’d even pick being Duke of Hell when that meant more work, both demons becoming more and more frustrated with one another.
“That was very rude.” Aziraphale had pointed out when the musical boys left. Crowley just huffed and crossed his arms, not looking at the angel. “They’re brand new to this world and you treated that Crowley like he was gum underneath your shoe.”
“I’m just sick of it angel,” Crowley hissed, finally turning back to Aziraphale but not meeting his eyes. “Radio, a musical, but no movie or TV show. What do we have that those books don’t?”
“My dear they tried a movie.” Aziraphale tried gently.
“Then why don’t they try again?” Crowley asked, getting more frustrated. “It’s not like that pair has to be the only movie versions of us! It could be better! Why won’t anyone try again?”
Aziraphale, for once, did not have an answer for his demon.
It was 2019, and Aziraphale was sitting in the bookshop, reading Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time in front of a roaring fire. It had been a productive month for the angel and demon pair, they were actually being read more often than they had since they were published, making them curious over what piqued readers' curiosity. Crowley briefly entertained the thought that maybe they were finally being adapted into something, Aziraphale had the more realistic thought that maybe it was their publishing anniversary.
Aziraphale was so lost in thought he hadn’t heard the door until a louder, more forceful knock spooked him out of his reading. He closed the book and approached the door cautiously, clearing his throat before throwing it open.
“I’m afraid we’re very clo-”
The words died in his throat.
Turning around was a new version of himself and Crowley, much different then the radio boys or the musical pair. This new version of him was dressed closer to how he would, except his hair was stark white, and he reminded him of the vampire in that awful teen movie Crowley made him watch. The new version of Crowley couldn’t have been more different than his; he wore jeans so tight Azirphale wondered how he put them on, a silver tie hung lazily around his neck against a black shirt, and a black overcoat completed the outfit. He looked like a ginger version of that doctor he found delightful.
“I told you angel the bookshop was occupied.” The new Crowley mumbled averting his eyes from Aziraphale. The new Aziraphale smiled kindly at Aziraphale and the angel reminded himself to breathe, trying to recover from the shock.
“Hello,” New Aziraphale greeted. “Uh I’m afraid we’re rather lost. You see, we’re from the TV Good Omens and I was wondering….”
“TV?” Aziraphale gasped. If he had a heart it’d be thundering fast. “You mean we’re actually on the telly?”
“Well, streaming service.” The new Crowley mumbled.
“What’s a streaming service?” Aziraphale asked, thoroughly confused. This new Aziraphale, for his money, looked equally confused, before his Crowley put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll explain later,” The new Crowley muttered before smiling at the Aziraphale standing in front of him. “But technically yea, we’re on the telly.”
“Yes! And like I said we’re very lost. May we come in?” TV Aziraphale asked, ringing his hands. Aziraphale felt himself floored; he had also secretly been hoping for a screen adaptation of their work alongside Crowley, although he could handle rejection much better than the demon. The radio drama and the musical was nice, but there was something about seeing themselves on TV, watching people act out their book, that was truly special.
But all that excitement could be handled later, right now these two new versions of themselves were lost and needing direction, and he had to give Crowley a call to meet this new version of himself.
“Of course, forgive me,” Aziraphale said with a smile, stepping back and opening the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”