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Their Precious, Peaceful, Fragile Existence
“This is the Supreme Archangel, your former boss, who tried very hard to cast you into hellfire and destroy you,” Crowley hissed. “He is not our friend.”
How on earth could Aziraphale think otherwise?
All Crowley could see was Gabriel’s face, telling his closest friend to shut up and die already, commanding him to his death in Hellfire at their trial.
“What I need is for HIM to be nowhere near me,” Crowley said, already starting to feel the heat rising inside, as the emotions started to churn.
“I would love for you to help me,” Aziraphale said, in one final plea.
“You’re on your own with this one,” Crowley said as he stormed out of the bookshop.
He left the eccles cakes, untouched.
“Just breathe, that’s what humans do,” Crowley told himself, trying in vain to remember the breathing techniques that Aziraphale had taught him. “Then they count to ten before they do anything stupid.”
Or did they count backward? Crowley vaguely remembered, but was having trouble thinking right now, in the middle of all his triggered, burning thoughts that started to consume him, that started the moment he saw Gabriel.
He should march right back in, ask Aziraphale for help, and calm down. Talk it out. Just like they used to.
He stopped in the middle of the street, trying to breathe deeply in and exhale out, but he was losing the battle.
And now he was smoking.
“I can’t do this, I’m just so angry!” he said, as the smoke turned into a lightning bolt and struck every building around him.
AZIRAPHALE: PLAN A
Following the near-Apocalypse, and their creative recovery from it, the last few years during the pandemic had created a comfortable but familiar distance between the angel and demon.
It was a normal part of their routine together over the thousands of years they had shared, to come together when it was important, and to find some space apart afterward, particularly when they were feeling vulnerable. It had become such a part of their routine that Aziraphale had occasionally walked into danger intentionally, if only to summon the demon for a rescue. His own way of saying, “I miss you. I need you.”
He wanted to keep the closeness after they had saved the world together, and saved each other afterward by switching corporations, and saved each other again during their recovery. He telephoned the demon often, for the three reasons that Crowley had called out: when he was bored, when he wanted to share something clever he did, and when he was in trouble.
And Crowley had always come through.
So he bent all of his thoughts toward coming through for Crowley, who had been living in his car ever since Shax took over his post from Hell.
The hardest part was working through Crowley’s pride. Aziraphale knew Crowley wore his pride like armor, and it had protected him against the forces of Heaven and Hell since the beginning. It had been a big step to allow Aziraphale to care for him after the fire, which helped because Crowley was helping him right back. But after they were both recovered, he could feel Crowley’s armor return as he distanced himself again.
Aziraphale had nothing to do with Gabriel suddenly appearing on his doorstep, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. And phoned the demon immediately.
Maybe this could solve more than one issue.
He knew how triggering it would be for Crowley to see Gabriel, after all they had shared together in each other’s thoughts, and in the Alpha Centauri space in Crowley’s mind.
So he asked Crowley to meet him at the coffee shop, instead of the bookshop. He asked for something to stay calm, more for Crowley than himself, and even handed the eccles cakes to Crowley as they entered.
The next part of his plan included doing the breathing and grounding holds they had practiced together. He dimmed the lights in the room, intending to do just that, and break the news gently to Crowley, so they could come up with a plan together, just as they always had.
Jim ruined that by walking in sooner than he was supposed to. Aziraphale had asked him to wait an hour before coming downstairs, but realized belatedly that Jim likely didn’t know how to tell time. So instead he burst into the room wearing just a sheet, scaring Crowley terribly.
And it triggered a burn, just like Aziraphale feared it might. He watched Crowley from the bookshop. Crowley worked through his feeling quickly, as fast as lightning he called forth, and walked away from it, unhurt. Aziraphale wanted to follow and check on him, but since he left in anger from Aziraphale, he didn’t think Crowley would be open to his help this time.
So he waited for Crowley to come back on his own. When he did, later that evening, he even did the apology dance for the first time since its invention between them. Crowley was such a perfectionist that he rarely overstepped. Aziraphale was such an overthinker that he often did, and had done the dance many times before.
Aziraphale was overthinking, now, hatching schemes that involved:
1) helping Gabriel,
2) and also finding out what happened to him,
3) (perhaps related?) by solving the Clue of the Every Day Music Record,
4) and diverting Heaven about the miracle, which means now they needed to
5) get Nina and Maggie to fall in love,
6) and also convince Crowley to move into the bookshop,
7) and admit his feelings for him,
all with Heaven and Hell hot on their trail.
He thought he could try at least five of those in one Plan, that went something like this:
a) Ask to borrow the Bentley, specifically so Crowley had to move from the car into the bookshop.
b) When Crowley was in the bookshop, he could help Gabriel, and also try to convince Nina and Maggie to fall in love with a rainstorm,
c) while Aziraphale was investigating the Clue in Edinburgh and figuring out why Gabriel had shown up at his door.
But the crucial part of the plan was borrowing the Bentley. He knew Crowley was more than capable of going to Edinburgh and asking questions. Aziraphale normally would have gone by train.
He needed to borrow the car to help convince Crowley to move into the bookshop, starting by moving in the plants.
The plans were complicated, but they should work. If he asked Crowley to move in directly, Crowley would retreat. Crowley hated feeling helpless. But he loved helping, so if Aziraphale came up with a reason that Crowley needed to move in to help him, such as staying to help him watch over Gabriel, maybe he could convince him to stay for good.
CROWLEY: PLAN #1
Aziraphale had been so distracted lately, and that worried Crowley, as he watched him go deep into thoughts and schemes. He was so scared Aziraphale was on the brink of another drift.
And then it happened.
“I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the Angels of God shouted for joy,” Jim as Gabriel said, with eyes turned purple.
“Your boss said that to Job, d’you remember?” Crowley asked Aziraphale, after Jim left the room.
“I most certainly do,” Aziraphale said, opening his Bible to the book of Job.
Crowley watched politely for a moment, waiting to see if Aziraphale would elaborate, or read part of the story aloud as he often did, but to Crowley’s dismay Aziraphale had drifted right then.
“Come on, Angel,” Crowley said, reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze.
But nothing happened. He was deep inside his thoughts, absolutely motionless in place.
Crowley put his hands through his hair and paced up and down the bookshop. “Blast it, Aziraphale.”
He took a deep breath, to ground himself.
He made sure Jim was safely upstairs, and even miracled a lock to keep him up there for the moment, so he could safely go to find the angel without Jim interfering.
He took a breath, took Aziraphale’s hand in his left hand, and his right hand up to tap the angel on the forehead.
He fell into Aziraphale’s thoughts. This time he saw repeating images of books and plants, and wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but as always tried not to look too hard.
He watched the memory silently with the angel, who seemed to be fine, and grounded, just getting any clues he could from the memory. He didn’t even notice that Crowley was there. So they watched the memory play out together.
Crowley carried a hidden guilt, watching himself as Bildad, tempting the angel to eat, helping him defy God’s will and save the kids. The look on Aziraphale’s face when he was convinced that Crowley was going to take him to Hell for his actions. The look on his face when he realized he was neither on Heaven nor Hell’s side, now.
“That sounds lonely,” Aziraphale said, in the memory.
“It is, yeah.”
“But you said it wasn’t.”
“I’m a demon. I lied.”
As he watched the rest of the scene playing out in Aziraphale’s head, he couldn't help but think,
I’m the reason you’re lonely.
He popped back into his corporation. He felt Aziraphale coming back from the memory, and knew the angel was safe and no longer drifting. He let Jim back downstairs, with careful instructions to watch the angel.
But right now he just wanted to get a drink and sleep off that memory in the Bentley.
AZIRAPHALE: PLAN B
“Our car,” Aziraphale said, as he touched the Bentley.
Crowley was making that same expression Aziraphale knew he would make. If it was a flat no, that would be different. But the scowl was a dead giveaway that Crowley was struggling with the question, fighting against the desire to give the angel anything he wanted. “This Bentley is my car.”
But Aziraphale had a very specific reason for asking.
“Well yes, technically. Just as the bookshop is technically my shop. But we both get plenty of use out of it, don’t we.”
Our bookshop, he said internally. Your bookshop. Just put aside your stubborn demonic pride, foul fiend, and let me help. We can help each other. Move in with me.
Crowley continued to scowl the entire time he pulled his boxes of plants inside.
As he drove away, Aziraphale took another sweet from the tray in Crowley’s yellow Bentley, beyond pleased with himself and how well his carefully crafted plans were going. He was so pleased that his joy accidentally created a fairytale version of Scotland as he drove into it, complete with tartan mountains and Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster.*[1]
He quickly fixed it before he parked in Edinburgh.
CROWLEY: PLAN #2
Crowley had a soft spot for innocents. For goats, for ducks, for kids, for angels and demons that just had a bad break. Which was why he did his best to help Shax navigate the upstairs world, remembering how confusing it had been for him to figure out, even after giving up his flat to her. And why he had patience with Muriel, brand new to earth, doing their best to impersonate a human police officer.
So watching Jim drop a book over and over, trying to figure out how that worked, softened Crowley.
“That’s gravity,” Crowley told him, with the gentle authority of the being who brought gravity into creation, while carrying a large stack of books. “It’s a thing that happens when objects are pulled together. In this case they are all pulled downward because the Earth is the largest thing around.”
He tossed the books he was carrying to the left, to illustrate his point on how gravity worked, which fell neatly into a carefully stacked pile just outside Jim’s line of sight (despite the loud noise it made.)*[2]
When Jim asked why, he said “So things would stay where you put them, not just drift off…”
It was getting harder and harder to figure out how to help everyone. And it was so long past the time that Aziraphale should have been back. Based on when Aziraphale called to say he was coming back, he should have been back a few hours ago, especially as fast as the Bentley drove.
Jim went back to his room, and Crowley could hear him sleeping through the door. So at the moment, Jim was okay. It was easier to accept Jim than it was to accept Gabriel, and Crowley felt his earlier stress releasing.
Crowley grabbed another stack of books. He wasn’t sure why Aziraphale had asked him to move all these stacks of books from the spare room to downstairs, but when the angel directly asked something of him, it was hard for Crowley to say no, even if the task was annoying.
He just needed to make sure the Angel was okay. And he felt so helpless without the Bentley. If Aziraphale needed him, how could he get to him to help?
He could sense some things through the car. But not enough to be sure that Aziraphale was safe. He knew the car was back to the right color, playing mostly acceptable music, going just slightly over the speed limit. He tried to resist jumping into the radio again to check, but was counting down until the time that he should.
He tried to find a way to stay busy. Maybe he could pack up the plants, to get them ready to put in the car the moment Aziraphale got back.
He went to grab the ficus plant first but it quivered as he approached in due fear. He paused, first, seeing how comfortable it seemed to be in the bookshop under the window. Sure, Crowley had to move a few books to let the light in. There were always too many things in the bookshop to be sure where he could fit his own things.
He had thought about what it would be like to live together, occasionally considering it over quite a few nights spent drinking when Aziraphale offered his couch or bedroom. Crowley usually declined, choosing to sober up and leave.
He knew living at the bookstore would not be ideal for both of them. What would be ideal was moving into a new place together. It would be far easier to start fresh, rather than ask Aziraphale to move his books to make room for him in the bookshop, or even to try to build bookshelves at his old flat. Somewhere new they could redecorate together, instead of trying to force room for each other in their existing space.
And he knew that Aziraphale didn’t like to move fast. So he gave him space, waiting for the right moment to bring it up, to see if they could plan a demon-angel retirement. Maybe in a cottage, by the sea.
And he also knew how happy the bookshop made the angel. There was no force in Heaven or Earth that could convince him to leave it.
For this reason he didn’t mind sleeping in the car. He wasn’t in a hurry. Sometime, when the time was right, he could bring it up. But since the next home he envisioned was a new one with the angel, it didn’t make sense to find one right now, not when the Bentley was all he really needed.
It would make moving easier later.
So he picked up the ficus, fig, and devil’s ivy, carefully put them back in their boxes, and tried not to pace until Aziraphale came back.
AZIRAPHALE: PLAN C
Aziraphale guided the Bentley toward the bookshop, feeling happy that his plans were going well. He found out part of the Clue, that Gabriel had been to the Resurrectionist’s Pub, just not sure with whom yet. Hopefully Crowley had enough time to get comfortable, and see how much happier the plants were inside the bookshop instead of the car. He started rehearsing a speech on the drive home that he planned to bring up that night with Crowley over a glass of whiskey. He knew exactly which bottle he was going to open, one of Crowley’s favorites, and casually ask for more help watching Jim, maybe he could stay the night, or the week. Or longer. Aziraphale could invent daily reasons that he needed Crowley if he gave him time.
What had Shax said? “Sometime, in the last 80 or 90 years, I remember hearing that you and Crowley were an item.… You don’t seem his type at all.”
Little did she know.
Crowley had walked through fire for him. More than once.
He pulled up to the bookshop and parked. And then told the car to go back where he parked it after it tried to scoot forward.
He opened the door to the bookshop, just in time for Crowley to shove a box full of plants in his face.
“There you are!” Crowley said, barely containing his panic. “I was worried somethin’ might’ve happened to you!”
Aziraphale tried to answer Crowley’s questions about the trip to Edinburgh, but it was hard to completely hide his disappointment, carrying the boxes of plants back to the car.
So the plan to invite Crowley into the bookshop didn’t work. He looked across the street.
Time for Plan C: Host the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association meeting, in order to:
1) Actually meet some of the neighbors,
2) Individually convince (or bribe?) everyone into attending,
3) Turn it into a regency era Jane Austen themed ball,
4) So he can make Nina and Maggie fall in love, solve the mystery about Jim, and convince Crowley to move into the bookshop, and tell him his feelings,
5) With appetizers, costumes, and dancing.
He watched Crowley drive away in the Bentley, and thought,
If we didn’t save the world, you could have kept your flat.
It’s my fault you are in there alone.
CROWLEY: PLAN #3
“Nah,” Gabriel had said, to Armageddon the sequel. “Just not seeing it, this time. Pass.”
Crowley couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Gabriel had gone against Heaven’s plans, and had been kicked out as a result, and that’s why he went straight to Aziraphale for help.
Aziraphale really was right about him, all along.
Maybe he needed to learn to trust the angel more. Aziraphale had trusted him, many times. Even handed him a loaded weapon to fire straight at his head, trusting that he would miss.
So, he practiced. He stopped being the hero, and started trusting Aziraphale more, treating him less like a damsel in distress, and giving him more room to handle other details. Like real partners.
Crowley lead the shopkeepers to safety and sauntered up to Heaven on the lift, while Aziraphale used a circle of protection and his halo to stop a demonic invasion. The next day, Crowley escorted Nina and Maggie back to their shops, and watched through the window as Aziraphale used a bell to bring the forces of Hell and Heaven under control in the bookshop. He sat back in a chair, and let Aziraphale handle the Archangels.
And when Metatron came in with a cup of coffee, and Aziraphale looked right at him to see if it was alright, he nodded and said, “Sure, the day can’t get any weirder.” He watched them leave, and found himself proud of the way Aziraphale had repeatedly stood up for himself over the last few days, and trusted that Aziraphale would hold his own with Metatron, too.
What had Nina called Crowley? “Mr. I’ll never trust anyone again.”
Well, if Gabriel could change, maybe he could, too.
Crowley thought back to the way Aziraphale put his hand on his arm, after Gabriel and Beezlebub admitted their feelings for each other. The way Aziraphale looked at him when Crowley suggested they go to Alpha Centauri.
He reset the shop, put everything back the way it was before it all went pear-shaped.
He thought back to what Nina said outside the coffee shop, asking how long he’d been with his partner. Or what Nina and Maggie told him earlier that day, about having a real conversation with the angel.
He wasn’t great at talking, or expressing his feelings. He wasn’t sure where to start. He tried the breathing trick they worked out together after the last near-Apocalypse. It helped a little.
But being honest about his feelings with the angel felt a lot more terrifying than any of their recent adventures, including facing scores of demons and all the archangels of Heaven.
It was time to be brave.
AZIRAPHALE: AFTER THE PLANS FALL THROUGH
This didn’t go according to any of the plans - including plan A and B and C - that involved throwing a ball, dancing with Crowley, taking time to tell him his feelings then, while still helping Nina and Maggie and Jim and the rest. He even gave away books to make it all happen.
And absolutely all of those plans fell through.
Now he was asking again for Crowley to join him, but he was not explaining it at all properly, and regretted every word as it came out.
What was it Gabriel had said? “You know that feeling that everything will be better if you are next to one particular person.”
He knew he needed to go to Heaven, to help shape things and make sure no Apocalypses ever started again. He only said yes to Metatron when Crowley was allowed to come, too. He remembered how happy Crowley was as an Angel, making those stars all those years ago.
There was a desperate, painful, kiss, that went nothing like how he envisioned his first kiss with Crowley.
In another version of things, this kiss, this expression of love, was all Aziraphale wanted, was everything he worked toward in all his careful planning and the elaborate regency ball, and he would have fallen direct into the demon’s arms, and they could finally have their happily ever after.
Just before Metatron walked in, he was planning to tell Crowley everything he felt about him.
But this was the bandstand, and the bookshop, and finding Jim all over again, the same argument - Aziraphale always trying to fix things, Crowley always trying to run away.
Come with me, Aziraphale always said. Let’s go off together, Crowley always said.
They wanted to be together, but were always heading in different directions.
He knew several things in that moment, though.
1) That he had to leave with Metatron to make things better and possibly save the world again,
2) That Crowley wasn’t joining him, and
3) That Crowley might someday regret not joining him.
So he chose to say, “I forgive you,” hoping that covered things while he was away. Angelic Forgiveness had a power of its own.
He also chose not to say goodbye. He couldn’t say anything that felt permanent, not when he had so many other things he needed to tell him.
He also didn’t fully make up his mind to leave until after Metatron told him about the Second Coming. And that solidified it. He looked back at Crowley, standing by his Bentley.
It was Aziraphale’s turn to save Crowley.
And that was when he got on the lift.
He was seeing the shape of his misunderstanding, assuming that Crowley wanted to be an angel. He understood why Crowley couldn’t join him, even though he hoped for different. He just wanted Crowley to be happy. He had been so miserable for so long. He couldn’t help but worry about how Crowley would cope without him, too.
Nothing lasts forever, he had told Crowley. But he meant the books. That it wasn’t the bookshop that mattered. It was the being together, that mattered. There wasn’t enough time to say everything he needed to say.
There was a dream still, of picnics, and stargazing, when this was all over. But there was more to do before they could get there.
He still had Faith. In Crowley, and himself, and that dream, when this was all over. He even smiled a little in the lift, remembering the kiss… hoping that gave him the strength for the job he knew he needed to do ahead, hoping there would be a day with more kisses. Somewhere else with Crowley. Maybe in a little cottage by the sea…
CROWLEY: AFTER THE PLANS FALL THROUGH
Crowley turned back to the lift before he got into the car, hoping Aziraphale had a change of heart before he left, and would turn and run back to him, like in all those romance books that he loved to read.
But he didn’t. He got into the lift, and went away.
Crowley knew from seeing the files in Heaven that there was more destruction planned ahead. He also knew Aziraphale would do everything in his power to stop it. But he couldn’t follow where Aziraphale was going, and couldn't give Aziraphale what he asked of him.
Aziraphale finally asked a question he couldn’t say yes to.
He was starting to see the shape of his misunderstanding, assuming that Aziraphale wanted to be retired, assuming that Aziraphale no longer wanted to be part of Heaven. All the signs were there.
He was not smoking now. He was not angry. He didn’t really expect any different from Aziraphale. He just hoped for different.
The forgiveness didn’t sting as much as it should. A parting gift from the angel that he didn’t understand yet, that brought him a measure of peace amidst the misery.
Aziraphale hadn’t had the same experience with Heaven that Crowley had. And he was deeply, deeply anxious about what they might have in store for his Angel next, or how he would cope without him.
He couldn’t help but worry about what’s ahead, frowning deeply as he drove away. He saw the sign outside of Nina’s shop, and wondered if Aziraphale even had a choice. Of the two, he was glad Aziraphale chose coffee.
No nightingales, Crowley had told him. But the Bentley played the song. Of course there would always be nightingales. There wasn’t enough time to say everything he needed to say.
Crowley had trust still, in his angel, and himself. The dream was still there, deep and hidden. A cottage by the sea, a picnic. A kiss returned. And that gave him strength, for what he knew will be a tough road ahead…
THE ONE WITH ALL THE PLANS:
Neither of them knew it, but all their trials, and fears, and desires, were deeply known to their Creator. And as much as Aziraphale prayed, or as much as Crowley soliloquyed, they couldn’t hear the answer.
But the answer was always the same.*[3]
They just had to keep going to find out.
Footnotes
1. I had to pause at S2E3 after Aziraphale turns the car yellow to catch this and it’s HILARIOUS↩
2. According to Tumblr - the falling books were performed by professional Hollywood stunt books.↩
3. “Wait and see? Do you have any idea how irritating that is?” - Crowley↩