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"I forgive you."
The words spilled from Aziraphale's mouth as if they were poison. He knew the harm they would cause; he knew they would injure Crowley beyond comprehension, but he couldn't hold them in any longer. Just one more second on his own tongue, and they would burn him from the inside out.
As soon as he said them, though, the regret was worse than any poison. He pressed his lips together, shocked by his own words.
Crowley's mouth curled into a snarl, and he shook his head. "Don't bother," he replied, spinning around and making a break for the front door. Aziraphale watched his back, realizing this might be the last time he saw Crowley ever again.
The feeling of his lips still lingered on Aziraphale's. His heart was still pounding.
Crowley's shoulders hunched as he fiddled with the doorknob, and after a moment he gave up with a frown. "That's cute, Aziraphale," he said. "Let me go."
"I never said you couldn't leave," Aziraphale snipped back, pursing his lips. "You're free to go wherever you wish."
Crowley huffed and turned back to the door. "Well, this door is being a bastard. Did you lock it?"
"I did, but you know how to unlock it. It must be stuck." Ever the gentleman, Aziraphale stepped forward to help. He would come to Crowley's aid even if they were fighting.
Crowley reached for the handle and immediately drew his hand back, yelping in pain. It was so visceral, filled with so much shock, that Aziraphale rushed to his side without any regard for their current situation. The last thing he wanted was to see Crowley hurt.
"Are you alright?"
"It burned me." He held up a red palm. The doorknob was glowing, its golden surface having turned the bright orange of molten metal. The two stared down at it in shock, slowly inching away from it.
"What's wrong with it?" Aziraphale asked.
"What do you mean?! It's your bookshop. Your weird doorknob."
Crowley crouched, peering at the doorknob from afar, but Aziraphale's gaze had already moved to the window. The outside world, the bustling Soho street that never seemed to go quiet, was entirely frozen in place. It had transformed into a photograph. People had halted mid-step, birds were stuck in mid-air, a newspaper fluttering in the wind defied gravity.
"Crowley."
"It's calming down a little."
"No, Crowley, look."
Crowley followed his gaze, and his brow furrowed as he saw what was going on. Aziraphale took a step back, his blood running cold; even the Metatron and Muriel were frozen in place, completely oblivious. This wasn't their doing.
"Did you stop time?" Aziraphale asked.
"No. No, this isn't me this time." Crowley waved a hand in the air, but nothing came of it. A strange hum echoed through the room. "Miracles won't work."
Aziraphale tried it out for himself, finding the same issue. He couldn't cast even a spark of magic without an invisible force halting it. "They've been blocked."
Crowley's upper lip rose as he grimaced. He strode over to the window and inspected the outside for a moment before closing the curtains.
"What's happening?" Aziraphale asked. "Crowley, what's happening?"
"I don't know. I really have no idea."
The doorknob had stopped glowing by now, but sparks of heat still danced around it. It was waiting for one of them to touch it again, ready to punish them for trying to escape. Aziraphale paced the bookshop, sweat forming on his brow.
"Are we trapped?" Crowley asked. "I accidentally locked Nina and Maggie into the coffee shop the other day when I was really mad. Maybe it happened again."
"You know how to control yourself better than that. And you said this wasn't you." Aziraphale sighed. "But it does seem like we're trapped."
A loud thud startled them out of their confusion, turning their attention to the back of the bookshop. A pile of books had somehow flown off their shelves, clattering from their neat and organized place onto the floor. Aziraphale scurried over to them, face flushing at the prospect of his books being harmed.
"They're..." He frowned, bending over to pick one up. "It's all the Jane Austen novels."
"Can't seem to get her out of your head, can you?" Crowley leaned against the wall, not joining him at his side. It seemed they were now in a strange state of uncertainty, a state quickly fluctuating between desire and deterrence.
"Pride and Prejudice...Sense and Sensibility..." The former had been knocked on its side, its pages fanning open seemingly on their own. When Aziraphale picked it up, it was as if an invisible force prevented him from closing it; his eyes were drawn to a line in the book that was underlined in sparkling gold.
My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
Aziraphale blushed. "Someone is playing tricks on us. Surely, someone is...someone wants us here."
"Someone with the power to shut us in and freeze the rest of the world?" Crowley replied, his tone snarky. "Maybe Heaven's mad I said no. Obsessed with control, that lot. Makes sense they'd kidnap me to try and change my mind." Aziraphale could tell he was rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses. He wasn't taking them back off, a rarity in the bookshop. Aziraphale missed the color of his eyes.
"If it was Heaven, or even Hell, I don't think they'd have the power to do this." He nodded toward the window. "At least, not for long. You can't hold onto time for that long, can you?"
"Five minutes at most. And it gives me stomach cramps for the rest of the day." Crowley ambled over to his favorite armchair, sinking into it. "It would take a lot of power to do something like this."
"Why would someone want us to stay in here?" Aziraphale asked. "I was about to go to Heaven. I was about to go do good."
"Oh, yeah, that's what you're all about. Forget about everything Heaven wanted you to do before. All the harm they've caused you. Just a few words from you and they'll change their ways." Crowley scoffed. "Maybe this was for the better. Someone's keeping you safe."
"Crowley, if this is you--"
"Hey, hey, it's not me. I already told you it wasn't me."
"You're a demon. You lie."
Crowley's mask fell, and for a moment he looked truly hurt again. "I don't know what's gotten into you. You're acting ridiculous." He shook his head. "Calling me the bad guy, calling me a liar. The Metatron has really gotten into your head. I thought we were long past all that."
"I...Crowley." Aziraphale's shoulders fell.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to say what I said? And you just wrote me off so you could share your little good news." He sneered. "After everything we've been through, you want to ship me back off to the place that hurt me the most. Turn me into something that's convenient for you."
"Crowley-"
"Don't. It's my turn. You don't get to talk, Archangel Aziraphale." Now it was Crowley's turn to spit poison. "All you do is act like you're better than me. Like you're on the right side of history, and I'm just some poor thing who needs to be coaxed back into civilization. All you can think about is how it was a mistake to kick me out of Heaven. They're the good guys, right? Surely they made some kind of mistake.
"Maybe it wasn't a mistake, Aziraphale. Maybe they were right. Have you ever thought about that?" Crowley bared his teeth. "I don't belong there, and they know it. I would have been bad for business. I don't belong anywhere, in fact."
Aziraphale blinked, stunned. Crowley stood up, storming towards him with a fire in his gaze that nearly burned through his dark lenses. "You're my only friend. You're my only...anything I've got on this Earth. Thousands of years together, just you and me. Does that not mean anything to you?"
"Of course it does, Crowley."
"Really? Because if it did, you wouldn't be trying to usher me back into a place that somehow hates me more than I hate it."
"I...I want to fix it. I want us to fix it together." Aziraphale blinked back tears. "What's so wrong with that?"
"I cannot fathom how you still have hope in that place. You have more faith in Heaven than you have in me, and that tells me everything I need to know." A stray tear rolled down Crowley's cheek, drawing Aziraphale's eye. "You're going to choose Heaven over me."
"Crowley..." Aziraphale glanced back and forth between the window and Crowley's face, a small part of him still alert to the Metatron's close presence. Even if he was frozen in place, a small fraction of his soul still feared his scrutiny.
"Look at you. You're terrified. That place has conditioned you to be terrified," Crowley said. "After everything they've done, you're still going to look at me and say I'm the bad guy?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Aziraphale said, his voice soft and defeated. "It just slipped out. I'm sorry."
"I've abandoned the opportunity to be a Duke of Hell because of you. I stepped aside because I couldn't handle the thought of losing this life we've carved out for ourselves. I put myself in danger by refusing, by coming back here, but I didn't care. You were the only thing on my mind."
"I thought you would want to come back," Aziraphale whispered through the lump in his throat. "I thought you would be happy. I just wanted to make you happy."
Crowley seemed to soften at that. "What made you think that being in Heaven would make me happy?"
"I thought...I don't know. The stars--"
He stopped, his voice breaking. His body and soul suddenly caved, giving into the onslaught of tears that had been threatening to come out since before their kiss. He placed a hand over his mouth, eyes welling, and he turned away to let out a sob.
Crowley watched him for a moment, silent, before placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned Aziraphale's body back to face him, his signature frown completely erased.
"What about the stars, Aziraphale?"
"It's so pathetic." Aziraphale wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He let out a sound that could only be classified as a pathetic mixture of the two. "They're so far away here. You can't see them. You can't make your galaxies anymore."
"I don't understand."
"I thought if you were in Heaven again, you could make more. You could have that power again." He sobbed. "It's the only time I've seen you smile like that."
Crowley's grip was firm and comforting, but he was eerily silent.
"You wanted us to be up in the stars. That's what you kept saying. I thought I could give you something even better." Aziraphale wiped his cheek. "It would be something wonderful for both of us. You could be happy again and make your stars. I could fix Heaven and turn it into what it was meant to be. And we could be together.
"But it means nothing if you and I can't go together, Crowley. I need you." He reached for both of Crowley's hands, lifting the one off his shoulder, and squeezed them. "I need you. I'm choosing you, Crowley. Don't go. Please don't go. I don't feel safe there. You're the only one I feel safe with."
He leaned his forehead on Crowley's shoulder, body racking with sobs, and Crowley allowed it. In fact, he welcomed it; after a brief moment, he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's body and pulled him close. Slowly, he eased Aziraphale onto the floor, where they sat curled into each other. Crowley's sharp chin rested on the top of Aziraphale's head.
Aziraphale cried, letting himself sink into Crowley's grasp. The warmth and comfort of his arms was stronger than anything Heaven had ever provided.
"Angel," Crowley eventually murmured, sending relief through Aziraphale's chest. He never wanted to be called anything else. "What have they done to you?"
"What haven't they done?" Aziraphale hiccuped. "You've witnessed it all. They wanted to kill me."
"I know. I know." Crowley squeezed him. "Oh, Satan, I'm supposed to be angry with you. Bless it all."
"Please don't be angry with me."
That small, tearful plea was enough for Crowley to come undone. He closed his eyes, holding Aziraphale as tight as he could and planting kisses on the top of his head. "No. No, it's okay."
"I don't want to go back to Heaven." It was the first time he'd ever truly allowed himself to think that. "I don't want to go."
"You never have to go back there again," Crowley reassured him. "I promise. You saw what Gabriel and Beelzebub did. We can be just like them. Except, maybe a few galaxies away. How awkward would that be, to run into them?"
"They might be the only ones who understand."
"They couldn't understand six thousand years. No one could."
"Crowley." Aziraphale lifted his head. "Do it again."
Crowley didn't have to ask him what he meant. He took Aziraphale's tear-streaked face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. Electric tension floated between their lips.
"Nina thought you were my husband," Crowley said. "I had never thought about it that way before. I had never considered love."
"It radiates off you in waves when we're together. I'd just never realized what the source was. I...I thought it was coming from me."
"So you've felt the same way?"
"I have."
Crowley kissed him, this time much more tender than before. Their lips found each other like lock and key, made for one another, and their bodies were lighter than air. Aziraphale's tears fizzled out, disappearing like they'd never been there, and a beautiful golden light hovered over the bookshop. The sun was smiling down on them.
Once it was over, Aziraphale was complete. He leaned against Crowley and let go of all his troubles, and a comfortable silence overtook them. They had an eternity together to build themselves a new home, but the bookshop was all they needed at this moment.
"What do you think the Jane Austen books were for?" Crowley finally asked after a while. "Magically toppling like that."
"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," Aziraphale realized. "That quote was highlighted."
"So someone who wanted us together locked us in here." Crowley thought. "Who do you think that could be?"
"Maybe it's Gabriel and Beelzebub. Trying to show us what we did wrong."
Crowley shrugged. "Eh. Doesn't seem right."
"Or it could be God."
They both fell silent at the mention of Their name. Crowley took a deep breath.
"I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"Whoever it was," Aziraphale said, tilting his head to the ceiling, "thank you."
"The only people we have to thank are each other." Crowley smiled at him. He waved his hand at one of the lamps in the bookshop, and the light bulb went dark. "My miracles are working again."
A loud click sounded through the shop, and they both turned to the front door. The deadbolt was no longer stuck in place. Outside, a car honked, and the world resumed its normal activities.
Aziraphale beamed. "Whatever we did worked."
"Someone's playing matchmaker," Crowley remarked.
"Something tells me they won't let us come apart again. It's like you and I were made to be together."
"It's ineffable." Crowley smirked. "What are you gonna tell the Metatron?"
"I'll tell him where he can stick it." Aziraphale laughed nervously. "I think that's the ineffable plan. It's what I'm meant to do."
"They'll probably punish you for it. I don't want them to break out the Book of Life, angel. I don't know how I would-"
GO.
It was the voice of a million souls, their throats ringing in pain and ecstasy. The word echoed through the bookshop like a roar of thunder, making them both stumble. The books trembled on their shelves, rocked by the quaking of the earth, and Aziraphale's ears rang long after it was over. He brought a hand to his mouth, shocked.
"What was..."
They both stared at each other, at a loss for words.
NOT SAFE HERE. WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE. GO.
Another quake. Aziraphale gasped.
"My God," he whispered.
"No, this is more than that," Crowley replied, gazing around the bookshop with wide eyes. "This is...everyone."
AZIRAPHALE. CROWLEY. GO .
Aziraphale stood. His entire body quivered with astonishment and fear. He'd never felt the presence of so many souls before, not even in the highest reaches of Heaven. It was approaching the same level of power as God Themselves.
"We...we have to listen," he said. "We have to go."
"Go where?"
"Out in the stars. Out where you wanted us to be." Aziraphale turned to him, taking his hands. "Crowley, I don't know what this is, or who, but can't you feel it? We have to listen."
Crowley nodded, unable to contain the slight tremor in his legs. "I...yes," he said. "Yes. We have to go. There's nothing left for us here. We need to escape to a place where Heaven and Hell can't reach us."
"Do you know a place?"
"I do." Crowley cradled Aziraphale's cheek. "And we'll be safe there. I know it. You and me, together, okay?"
"Okay." Aziraphale leaned into him. "I trust you."
"We're gonna be okay no matter what, Aziraphale. I promise." Crowley looked up. "I think they promise, too. Whoever they are."
"Well, then." Aziraphale gave a shaky smile. "We're off to something new."