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Aziraphale is gone. Crowley saw him using the elevator. Back to heaven. Leaving him on Earth.
He had been gone for a year without a word or a sign. There was no secret message delivered through Muriel. Nothing. Like he never existed.
Crowley tried to find him of course, searching all their secret meeting places. The fear of never seeing him again, never seeing his eyes and smile and feeling his warm steady presence was a constant part of him. Every time he saw someone in beige clothes, every time he caught a glimpse of blond curls, his heart stopped for a moment. Hope rose in his chest…and then the person turned around and that hope crashed again, leaving nothing but emptiness and despair.
It got harder every time. Yet he never stopped looking.
But of course it wasn't him. It was never him.
Except one time it was. And that was the worst.
Crowley was sitting in St. James Park, on their bench, when he appeared. Right beside him.
He looked… different. Not one single drop of colour in his clothes, just a completely white suit. Hair shorter than usual, curls tamed. He looked like every other angel, like every other soldier of Heaven.
But that wasn't the only thing. Aziraphale had always radiated warmth and love for the world and the people around him. Now the only things Crowley could sense were coldness and polite curiosity. It made him shiver.
Aziraphale turned his face towards him. There was nothing in his eyes. Those wonderful blue eyes that had always looked softly at him, like he was worth something, looked at him now without any feeling. It hurt more than he would ever admit. Was Aziraphale still angry at him? But he said he would forgive him. Did he really lose his angel this time?
No. Aziraphale was here. He came to him. Surely everything would be alright again. He just needed to apologise and then everything would be good again. They would save the world once more and continue like nothing ever happened. He could do that if it meant getting his friend back.
“Angel, I’m -”
“Crowley”, Aziraphale interrupted him. “I admit to being curious. I have so many memories involving you but I can't understand why an angel like me interacted so much with a demon. I thought that when I saw you in person, I would understand.”
He looked at Crowley, his gaze going up and down over his entire body like the one time in the Bastille. But this time the angel’s eyes were narrowed, a wrinkle appeared on his forehead. The expression of someone examining an insect, a being not worth any attention.
It made Crowley feel small. He never felt like that under the angel’s view before. Despite his nature his whole body went still, waiting for the moment to be over.
“But it all goes back to what you are, doesn't it? You tempted me, convinced me to act against God and Heaven. That's what demons do, I can't hold it against you.”
Crowley just stared at him, stunned, with a cold feeling in his stomach. And he saw something else. The colour of the angel’s eyes wasn't right. It was too bright, not the dark blue of the sea, more the light blue of ice.
He swallowed, suppressing the fear that rose in him. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't tell what exactly, but this wasn't the angel he knew. This was someone…something that looked like Aziraphale, talked like him. But his essence, his personality wasn't there.
He used his senses, trying to find out if someone was watching them, if it was just a bad joke from hell or heaven or whoever. Anything to prove that this wasn't true, wasn't really Aziraphale. He remembered all the other occasions when he had mistaken someone else for the angel, and he hoped it would be the same now. But he found nothing. The only other being he could sense was Aziraphale. It was him. Something was wrong but that didn't change the fact that it clearly was his angel. And that left room for only one conclusion: Heaven did something to him, changed him fundamentally in the year of his absence.
The small hope he felt died. It all comes back to hope, he thought, hope is the thing that kills you.
“Aziraphale, what are you talking about? I would never-”
“Of course, you say that. But you told me yourself: Demons lie.”
“What, no. Angel, Aziraphale, we are friends. Don't you remember?” he sounded desperate now, thinking rapidly about what to do, what to say to make it right again.
Memories whirled in his mind, his head spinning. All their encounters blur together, thoughts too fast to follow. He had to come up with something. To get through whatever they had done to Aziraphale; to make him listen.
“Friends with a demon? Sounds unlikely. I remember everything, Crowley. And if anything you say is true, I’m sure I would feel it. But the only thing I feel for you is pity. Do you really believe I’m able to feel anything else for a demon?”
What had they done to him? Using him for their plan was one thing, but erasing his feelings? Crowley hadn’t even known that was possible. There must be something he could do, something he could say. There must be a reason for Aziraphale to be here; the real Aziraphale must still be there somewhere. He was clutching at straws now, he knew that. But even though hope might kill him, it was the only thing keeping him sane in that moment.
His throat tightened; the words stuck. His voice raw, he asked, “What have they done to you, angel? Your memories are there, try to remember what it felt like. You love this planet. You love your books, the humans. What about your bookshop?”
The angel just stared at him, not reacting in the slightest.
In a desperate last attempt, Crowley blurted out: “Remember our last talk.”
At this, something flickered across Aziraphale’s face. For barely a second, just for the duration of a heartbeat, a raw painful expression broke through. He looked at him, voice trembling, dark blue eyes full of tears. His hands reaching for Crowley, grasping his wrists almost painfully.
“Crowley, my dear, help-”.
Then as if a door slammed shut, the look vanished. Aziraphale’s eyes went cold and empty again.
“Never try that again or you will regret it. I’m the Supreme Archangel, I cannot be tempted. I could smite you with a thought.” He bit off his words, his body shaking with suppressed anger. But he wasn't shouting. Maybe it would’ve been easier then, but his voice was icy and bare of emotions, exactly like his eyes.
And Crowley realised that he had lost him; he had reached him, but it hadn’t been enough.
“Then why aren’t you doing it? If I’m just that bad evil creature you think I am?”, Crowley’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please, you are in there, Aziraphale, try to remember.” He was begging now; he was aware of that, but he couldn’t care less.
The angel rose, looking down at him with those entirely wrong eyes. “Get ready, demon, the war is coming. And this time you won’t convince me to stop it. It’s God’s plan.”
With these words, he disappeared. Leaving Crowley trembling in the cold air, on the bench that had once been theirs. On his own side again. Alone.