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Summary
Aziraphale sagged where he stood, watching her go for far longer than was required, a feat made possible thanks to Heaven’s incessant lack of walls. Eventually, he slumped back to his ‘office,’ glancing around warily as he did. Angels went about their business in the distance, and certainly no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention.
He grabbed the spider plant and ducked down, crouching between his desk and the nearest partition. It wasn’t exactly snug but it took the stinging edge off his anxiety. He cradled the dying plant in his hands, and a tear spilled from his eye and landed on one of the wilting leaves. He brushed it away with his thumb.
The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and he clutched the plant closer still.
“Please,” he found himself begging, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t give up on me. I need you to keep fighting. For me.”
The plant, lifeless in its plastic pot, gave no sign that it had heard.
*
Crowley and Aziraphale have never been further apart, and neither of them are doing very well. But when Crowley goes missing, Aziraphale is the only one who can help. What will the Supreme Archangel do?