Chapter Text
Aziraphale had been on the bus for what seemed to be days, he wasn’t sure at this point. It could’ve been weeks, or maybe even months. All he knew was that the edges of time blurred together in a dissociative puddle of goo. He really had made a right mess of things. So much so that now, here he was, at the doorstep of an unknown house in South Downs, ready to get down on both knees and beg for another chance. If this was indeed the right place.
The Bentley stood tall in its spot in the driveway. But it didn’t stand proud like it used to. No, it was rather gloomy, almost. As if it knew that Aziraphale had broken his heart and the car’s with him.
Aziraphale knew Crowley pretty well at this point. Even if he had been gone for a year, he’d like to think he knew Crowley well enough that a year wouldn't affect that. But, given that this year may have been the most significant of their lives, Aziraphale was unsure where Crowley and change stood. He had been standing outside of the front door for what had been 5 minutes, maybe more. Surely Crowley had noticed him by now. Around him, the rain fell heavy and wet his clothes. But the angel didn’t notice. Desperate, Aziraphale leaned against the front door and spoke gently. “My dearest Crowley. I know you’re there. I know you’re listening to me. But- you deserve to get acquainted with the angel you’re trying your- your damndest to let go.” There was no response. Aziraphale sighed. “I know you care, Crowley please.” He sat against the door in a puddle of water. “You have a plethora of reasons not to trust who I am, who I really was. For what it’s worth, I still don’t really know who I was either." His head thudded against the door. “But now I know, for the first time in my life, I am absolutely certain that I won’t leave until you open up this door. I drove approximately 27 hours, for Heaven’s sake!” The bugs buzzed around him, enjoying the humid air. A foot shuffled on the other side of the door. “I hear you there, Crowley. I can hear you listening to me. Hear me out. Let me in, please.” He sighed. “There are mosquitos everywhere, I’m being eaten alive.”
And with that, the door swung open violently, knocking Aziraphale back. He quickly scrambled upwards and straightened his coat, clearing his throat for good measure. As he looked up, he breathed out in shock upon seeing Crowley. His hair was long, about shoulder length and gave way to the ragged black tee and black joggers he wore down his slender frame. He looked even skinnier somehow, if that was even possible. As Aziraphale scanned his frame, Crowley spoke up.
“One thing.” He said sternly.
“What?” Aziraphale asked, confused
“I came out here for one thing.”
“And what was that for?”
“That little bitty one thing, was to forget about you .”
Aziraphale’s heart sunk. “Oh, I see.”
Crowley continued. “But I guess I've learned something.” He gestured for Aziraphale to come inside.
“Yes?” Aziraphale stepped in, finally leaving the rain and bugs behind.
Crowley shut the door behind him. “That there's never really one thing 'cause very quickly one thing evolves into two, or three, or heaven forbid, more.”
“Whatever do you mean, dearest?”
“ Don’t- call me that.” Crowley sighed before continuing. “For example, see the light in the hallway? It was always flickering. After three days here, it was unbearable. My list grew. Two, fix the light bulb, and one, forget about you .”
“I-” Aziraphale tried.
Crowley interrupted. “Drove to town, bought a bulb, one of those new LEDs. Brought it home, put it in but the wires weren't connecting.” He growled the last part out. “Suddenly, they went on the fritz. My list grew; three, rewire the ceiling two, fix the lightbulb and one, forget about you. So I went to the attic and to my damn delight, there was black mold discorporating me slowly each night. And I feel it's my duty to remove it.”
Aziraphale shifted, trying to speak up.
Crowley didn’t let him. “My list grew; four, kill the black mold, three, rewire the ceiling, two, fix the lightbulb, and one, forget about you. ” He said with venom equal to the last times he said it.
“Yeah, but my one thing is really just-” Aziraphale tried.
“I'm not done.” Crowley growled. “See the tarp in the hallway?” He gestured behind himself. “That used to be a gallery wall with lots of pictures, super classy.” He shrugged. “I’m sad I had to make the call, but in scouring for mold, I had to take the place apart. Because sometimes to solve a problem, you follow it back to the start.” Crowley’s gaze fixed on Aziraphale’s, staring pointedly at him.
Aziraphale began to speak up when the doorbell went off. “Oh.” He said, disappointed by the prospect of an interruption. “Who's that?”
“No one. It just does that when it rains!” Crowley sighed. “Anyway, when I tried to rebuild the wall that I'd taken down, I discovered two holes burrowed right into the ground, and I didn't have the heart to kill 'em, so my list grew.
“That really is quite nice dear, however-” Aziraphale butted in.
Crowley ignored him. “But then, the cement that I found to fill in the gaping holes. Wasn't good, it didn't stick apparently, cement can get old? In trying to fix one thing, I made everything worse. My list grew; nine, buy new cement, eight, take care of this duck I found, seven, clean out the pipes for the bathroom and the kitchen six, rebuild the wall, five, keep out the pests, four, kill the black mold, three, rewire the ceiling, two, fix the lightbulb, and one, forget about you .”
Aziraphale stepped forward. “I think it's lovely, to see you fix up this old house because you want it to be nice, but I think maybe you're obsessing over things you can control, perhaps, hoping to control your feelings for-
“What?! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-” Crowley exclaimed.
“So you came here looking for one thing, and you're saying that one thing was to forget about me .” Aziraphale stepped closer, approaching Crowley.
“These things needed to get done– okay, okay? Just- just- just stop moving towards me. Just stay on your side of the room okay? So we can talk this out.” Crowley stammered, stepping backwards.
“Well, all I am asking is for you to do the first thing, which could consequently also be the last thing that you do with me.”
“Well, listen- well, listen-”
“After tonight, you'll never hear from me again. If that's what you want. Everything we need to fix our- our relationship is inside this file.” Aziraphale pulled the file from his pocket.
“I'm asking for one chance .”
Crowley sighed. “We'll do this one thing.”
“We’ll do this one thing.” Aziraphale affirmed. “Even if it could be the last thing, my dear.”
Aziraphale took some papers out of the file.
“Is that-”Crowley asked.
“Indeed it is.”
“It's been there all these years?”
“It apparently has.” He affirmed.
He took the papers and ripped them in half before throwing some of them in Crowley's unlit fireplace.
“Wha-”
“There is something to be said about setting some old shit on fire, don’t you think?”
“I- er-”
“It’s a way of saying this now lives in memory, that it's only a memory. Did you know, the vikings often did it to honor memories? And now, we’re doing it to honor who we used to be.
“I don’t need any honor.” Crowley interjected.
“Sure you do, Crowley!” He sighed before continuing. “Tonight, let us say goodbye to what we used to be.” Aziraphale said solemnly.
“ We were real.” Crowley said, disbelieving.
“Which is why we say goodbye to the you of the past, and hello to you now.” Aziraphale threw some more papers in.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“I don't see why I have to join your little cremation ceremony. You're the one who lied to me .” Crowley hissed.
“It was a bit more collaborative than you're remembering.”
“All I want right now is the same thing I wanted a year ago. The truth. Why did you lie to me? And why does this file exist in the first place?” He gestured to the remnants of the file.
“The angel you were on the day you and I met, was deeply curious of who she had become. So deeply curious of all she'd done. And when you showed me the stars, those beautiful stars.” Aziraphale chuckled sadly. “I looked ahead and saw who I wanted. ”
Crowley gulped.
Aziraphale continued. “We built a world, created ourselves a history.”
“She isn’t real to me, though, the angel you speak of.” Crowley protested.
“I don't expect for you to understand perfectly, my dear.”
“Don’t-”
“Call you that, I know. I loved her, you know, and she'd want you to bury her with me.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Okay what?”
“Give me a match.”
Aziraphale miracled a match for him.
Crowley took it.“I guess there is something to the ritual of setting fire to your lie. It’s a way of saying that's one win for honesty.” He paused. “What's done is done.” He struck the match and set it on the papers. “Tonight, I say goodbye to the angel I was. She was so curious.” He said with disdain.
Before them, the fire blazed magnificently.
“May she rest in peace.” Crowley whispered.
Crowley paced back and forth, questions swirling in and out of his head. Why did he agree to dinner with Aziraphale? Why did he want him over? To ask questions like “Why were you living a lie?”. The worst part, maybe , was that it would probably end in a fight. And maybe , once it was all over, Crowley would be able to send Aziraphale back out into the night. How did he keep up the pace? Lie to his face? String him along. How the hell did the angel think that was okay? Still, somehow, he’d choose dinner with Aziraphale over dinner with Freddie or dinner with Lou Reed. In a world full of people who all hadn’t hurt him the way Aziraphale did, he’d still choose him.
That was the truth, and it hurt so terribly bad.