Work Text:
“And here are the stained glass windows!” The Metetron tells Aziraphale.
Aziraphale looks up and sees five, giant, stained glass windows. Each window depicts a different angel. He can just barely recognize Gabriel’s purple eyes, but it is hard to decipher who the other four angels are.
“Oh, lovely, so I’m assuming I will be here soon?” Aziraphale asks.
“Of course,” The Metatron responds. He points to the first one. “These are our past archangels. First, we have Gabriel, then Michael, then Uriel, then Lucifer, then Raphael. Sound familiar?”
“I remember all but the last one,” Azirphale admits.
The name Raphael feels like it’s been replaced by something. He did know Raphael at some point, but something—someone—replaced them.
“Raphael. She was beloved by all the angels. In charge of the Celestial Project. Ringing any bells now?”
Aziraphale squints at the stained glass window. He can make out an angel with curly red hair, holding stars in her hands. A staff with two serpents lies below her feet. Overhead and around the angel are stars, galaxies.
“Unfortunately, she asked too many questions. Hung around the wrong crowd. And before we knew it, the beloved ‘angel’ fell,” The Metatron explains. “You’ve been fraternizing with her for the past six thousand years,” The Metatron chuckled. “She used to be loved. Now she’s hated by Heaven, hated by Hell, probably hated by Earth too.”
Aziraphale takes another look at the stained glass window; at Raphael's curly red hair and dark brown eyes and bright smile.
The bright smile he had hoped he would see again, as his second in command.
“And she can’t see the stars,” Aziraphale mutters.
“Excuse me, Aziraphale?”
“Snakes can’t see stars. She worked so hard to create all of those stars only to have that taken away from her as well.”
When Anathema had invited Crowley to her daughter’s birthday party, Crowley had initially been hesitant.
He gets around to coming, though.
Holding a wrapped box, Crowley pushes the door of the giant circle shaped building where Anathema is holding the birthday party. He spots Anathema, sitting on a bench, tying a kid’s shoelace.
“The rabbit goes through the hole and—Crowley!” She stands up and waves to Crowley. “Come here! Meet my daughter, Sophia.”
Crowley walks up to Anathema and Sophia. He hands the box to Sophia.
“Happy birthday, Sophia.”
“Sophia, this is Uncle Crowley and Uncle Azira—” Anathema looks around. “Crowley, where is Aziraphale?”
Crowley sighs. “Busy. Got a promotion from Heaven and now he's the Supreme Archangel or something.”
“And he left you here, on your own?” Anathema asked.
“He offered for me to go, but I didn’t want to. Heaven was toxic once, what makes him think they’ve changed? We had a big fight, stuff happened, and now I’m here, okay?” Crowley snaps.
Anathema looks at him sympathetically. “Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Well, Sophia has been dying to meet you. Come, now. We’re going to eat in the cafeteria, then I’ll let the kids explore, and we have tickets to watch the star show at 3:45.”
Star show? Star no. Is this a planetarium?
“I know enough about the stars. I’ll just drop off this gift and go.”
“Uncle Crowley!” Sophia tugs on Crowley’s shirt. “Mum said you once saved the world. Is that true?”
“I…um…I helped save your mum and dad from this big evil monster in a game we were playing,” Crowley lies. “If not for that, your parents would have lost the game.”
Sophia’s eyes brighten. “Cool. She also said you like snakes, and your husband likes magic.”
Crowley looks up at Anathema, who just stood in regret.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why is Uncle Aziraphale missing?” Sophia asks.
“He has work,” Crowley doesn’t exactly lie. “He’s way too busy. Always working. Never get to see him anymore.”
Sophia pouts. “That’s sad. Come on! I want to show you my favorite stars!” Sophia tugs on Crowley’s arm as she guides him throughout the planetarium.
Crowley thinks it’s a form of torture. There isn’t much for Sophia to show him.
He can’t see any of it.
Raphael is loved.
Everyone adores her. She constantly has angels begging for her attention. No angel can ever get a spare moment alone with her unless they are another archangel or are on her team. (except Aziraphale, who was able to snag a moment alone with her.)
Aziraphale never has the chance to say it, but he thinks she’s gorgeous.
Out of Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Lucifer and Raphael, Raphael has the second most number of fans, following Lucifer and followed by Gabriel.
She’s holding a piece of parchment in her hand and walking around, waving to every angel.
“Hi Ambriel! I love your hair! Oh, Mitzrael, great work on Celestial Security. Aziraphale!”
Aziraphale turns at the sound of his name to see the redhead, cheery angel smiling at him. He waves to her.
“Hello, Raphael!”
Raphael flies up to him. “I was just going to ask about the whole timeline thing. It never hurts to ask questions, am I right?” She laughs. “It’s good to see you. Michael was just telling me how it’s so lucky how you got the flaming sword.”
“I don’t know why Michael would say that, but I enjoy the sentiment.”
Raphael smiles. No angel has seen her not smiling (except Aziraphale). No angel has seen her not happy (except Aziraphale).
He didn’t mean to crush her. He really didn’t.
But she seems okay.
She’ll be okay.
No angel has watched Raphael’s fall (except Aziraphale).
No angel has dared to speak to Crowley (except Aziraphale).
No angel has loved Crowley more than Raphael (except Aziraphale).
“Crowley!” Crowley stands in the bookshop when he sees Gabriel and Beelzebub barge in.
“Hello Gabriel, Beelezbub. I hope you two are…doing well.” Crowley can’t hide the bitterness from his voice.
Gabriel snaps his fingers and fingerguns at Crowley. “Back at ya, buddy.”
Bee’s eyebrows scrunch up. “That sounds so wrong and yet so right coming from you.”
“Anways, Crowley, my guy,” Gabriel places a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “could you tell us more about Alpha Centauri and if we can see Earth from there? Because, we’ve tried, and nothing seems to work. Do we use a telephone or whatever?”
“Telescope, and yes, you two can see Earth from Alpha Centauri. It’s not very far away from our Sun,” Crowley flinches away from Gabriel’s hand. “Is that all?”
“Could you show us?” Bee asks.
Crowley frowns. “No, I can’t. I have…duties…to attend here.”
“What, like making out with Aziraphale?” Bee asks. They and Gabriel start laughing.
Crowley really wants to straggle the two. “No, I haven’t been, because Aziraphale took your job.” He points at Gabriel. “I begged him to stay, but he went off with the Metatron.”
Gabriel smiles, though Crowley doesn’t believe it. “Ooh, one thing I don’t miss is the Metatron. He annoyed me so much.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, and he and Bee laugh.
“And the second reason I can’t show you where Earth is—I can’t see the stars.”
Bee makes a confused face. “You never told me that. Why?”
“Punishment, I guess,” Crowley shrugs.
“Why would that be your punishment?” Gabriel asks.
“What better way to punish an angel than take away the thing they created?” Crowley answers.
“No, no, no. Raphael created the stars. And he ran away before the Great War. I spent a long time trying to find her again before Armageddon-that-never-happened. Never could. I even gave Aziraphale specific instructions for two decades to try and look for him in London, and he never could,” Gabriel protests.
“Really? And why’d you think you could never find her?” Crowley asks.
Gabriel huffs. “Because he’s trying not to be found, obviously.”
“And you never thought she might have been literally under your nose this whole time? Never thought she would be under their rule?” Crowley points at Bee.
“Why would she fall?” Bee asks. Crowley thinks the pair are doing this just to annoy him at this point.
“Because she was curious and didn’t want her creation to end after only 6000 years! Because she liked the world! Because she wanted her creation to mean something!”
“And why do you know this?” Gabriel questions. “I never remember any angel named Crawly before the war.”
“Because I was Raphael!” Crowley shouts in Gabriel’s face. “Remember me? Your little sister?”
“Oh…oh no…” Gabriel whispers. “That’s why…oh, goodness…” Gabriel opens up his arms and tries to hug Crowley. “Oh, Raphael, I spent so long searching for you. My little sister. You and your bright smile and can-do attitude. Michael and I swore to protect you. And we failed.”
Crowley tries to back away, but Gabriel just holds him tighter.
Crowley hates Gabriel.
But he didn’t always.
Gabriel stands up. Are there…tears…in his eyes?
“How did it happen? I mean, one minute, you were smiling and laughing and talking with us, and the next, you disappeared,” Gabriel turned to Bee. “Did you know about this situation?”
Bee shakes their head. “I’m just as confused as you are.”
“I asked a couple questions, hung out with Lucifer and the guys, the typical way,” Crowley explains.
“No, how did you find out about the plan? We were all hoping to tell you some time closer to the end.”
Crowley remembers this part clearly. “I just…heard it…from somewhere. Someone … mentioned it to me in passing, and I got curious. Too bright-eyed and curious for my own good.”
“I clearly remember; Michael and I tried so hard to make sure you didn’t know. Like, we were threatening to demote anyone who told you.”
“Who exactly did you tell this threat to?” Crowley asks.
“Oh, um…Celestial Management, your team, Celestial Movement, the Humanity Project, pretty much everyone. Not the Eden Project, though. They had way too much on their plates,” Gabriel huffs.
Crowley just looks at Gabriel, and Gabriel facepalms.
“Of course, it was Aziraphale! We were told specifically to not tell the Eden Project. That must have been the reason!”
“That was the reason…” Crowley hears a new voice say. He turns around to see Muriel, book in hand, staring at Crowley.
“Raphael!” Muriel exclaims. They drop their book and rush to Crowley and hug him. “Remember me?”
“How could I forget…” Crowley mutters.
Muriel backs away and presses their hands together. “Come on…”
Crowley regrettably faces his palms out.
“Theeeee,” Muriel gasps and starts singing and clapping their hands, “creation of the world, could happen anyday….”
“...but the creation of the universe is oh-so far away!” The pair of angels fidget their fingers and move their hands away from each other. “Star, bigger star, supernova, nebula!” They bring their hands back in as they say nebula. The angels grab each other’s hand. “Human kick, human kick.” They clap their hands together. “Double double galaxy, double double star. Double double humans, double double car! Beep beep!” The angels laugh and wrap their arms around each other in a hug.
“Raphael, how did you memorize all of the words so quickly?” Muriel asks.
Raphael thinks for a second. “I just know them!”
Muriel laughs again. “You’re so awesome.”
Raphael smiles. She always does. “Thanks, Muriel! You’re awesome too. I seriously could not have planned the designs of the universe without your help.”
“It was no big deal at all, Raphael,” Muriel shook their head. “You’re my best friend! How could I not?”
Gabriel and Michael fly up to the pair of angels. Raphael waves hello to her siblings. (Gabriel claims she’s the youngest. Michael agrees with him. She thinks Gabriel is actually the youngest. No one knows who’s actually the youngest.)
“Raph, how did the questioning go?” Gabriel asks.
“Fine, I hope. I was just suggesting a couple improvements. A few things I think will help humanity in the long run.”
“‘Do we care about humanity?’ is the question, though,” Gabriel says.
Raphael thinks. Does she? There has to be some angels who care about humans? The angel she met…Aziraphale…he was on the Eden Project, if she could recall correctly. Does he care about humanity?
Just her luck, he passes by.
“Aziraphale!” She calls. The white-haired angel turns to look at her. She beckons him to join the group.
“Hello Raphael! Gabriel, Michael! Good to see you. And you must be…?” Aziraphale points at Muriel.
“Muriel, 37th class, Assistant Secretary for Celestial Creation,” Muriel introduces themself.
Aziraphale nods once. “Lovely to meet you, Muriel. I’m Aziraphale, Principality, Eden Project.”
“So…Aziraphale, I wanted to ask you something,” Raphael tells Aziraphale.
Aziraphale shrugs. “Sure. What is it?”
“Could this happen somewhere a little more,” Raphael gestures to the angels surrounding the two, “private? No offense, I love you all, but I wanted to have a one-on-one conversation with Aziraphale here.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “No problems at all, Raphie. See ya.” He, Michael, and Muriel all fly away, leaving Raphael and Aziraphale alone.
“So, you work on the Eden Project,” Raphae states.
Aziraphale nods his head. “Yes, I do.”
“So, do you—how do I put this—like humanity?” Raphael asks.
Aziraphale scrunches his eyebrows. “I haven’t really gotten a chance to meet any yet, considering there currently aren’t any around. But, I sincerely hope they are nice.”
Raphael takes a second to process his words. “Right, right. And–”
Raphael is cut off by the Metatron cutting in front of her. “Archangel Raphael. You are requested by God.”
“Really? What’s happening?” She asks.
“You will find out,” The Metatron simply states. He turns around and faces Aziraphale. “You, Principality, may come too.”
The Metatron walks off, and Raphael and Aziraphale follow him.
“I hope we get to watch my suggestions come true,” Raphael whispers to Aziraphale. She grins at him.
Aziraphale can only gulp in response.
Her screams are deafening.
Aziraphale can only watch in horror as she screams, cries, begs.
He reaches out a hand, but she’s too far away. Her wings are torn up and tossed aside; they lay right next to him.
“Aziraphale!” She chokes.
“Raphael!” He screams. She can’t hear him.
“What did I do wrong? Why is this happening to me? I only asked a few questions! Why…?” She’s sobbing. Her gorgeous brown eyes close one last time.
Aziraphale watches as she falls onto a plane of black asphalt with a thud. She’s curled up in a ball, with her eyes closed and her arms around her legs.
She isn’t Raphael anymore. Aziraphale knows that. The angel he loved is gone.
And some…some demon has taken her place in his heart.
When Aziraphale first meets Crowley, he doesn’t know how to feel.
It’s been so long, and he had to promise not to speak of what happened to the angel he loved.
But Crowley feels familiar. He’s certainly no Raphael, but he’s…charming. Aziraphale guesses that’s kind of his job.
For the first thousand years or so, Aziraphale still mourns the loss of Raphael. But, as time goes on, so does he. By the time he encounters Crowley with Job, Aziraphale has let Raphael become a memory. A scar.
Aziraphale notices Crowley more carefully after that. Crowley is certainly charming, but he’s also funny, interesting, curious, respected, and (though Aziraphale would never dare to say it) nice.
1941, Raphael has become a whisper of the wind in the back of Aziraphale’s mind. Aziraphale realizes that he loves Crowley. Raphael was a past love; Crowley is his current one—now and always.
1967, Aziraphale forgets Raphael entirely. He is only concerned about his Crowley.
And he let himself lose his Crowley.
Aziraphale remembers Raphael now. The angel he loved, the demon he loves.
Aziraphale has just finished signing a new document. He needs a break. He walks over to his stained glass window.
His Crowley.
And he cries. He cries and cries and cries.
It’s a rainy day in London.
Crowley rushes underneath a canopy.
Aziraphale stares at the warm brown eyes of the angel in the window.
Crowley realizes he’s hiding underneath Nina’s coffee shop. He stares across the street at Aziraphale’s bookshop.
And they look into each other’s eyes…
… and realize they were made for each other.
Aziraphale stands up. He runs to his desk and grabs all of his things.
“Where are you going?” The Metatron asks.
“I’m leaving. You can’t stop me. Demote me all you want. I was never supposed to be the Supreme Archangel of Heaven. I am half of a whole,” Aziraphale snaps. He looks at his desk.
None of the items on his desk mean anything. They have no sentimental value.
“You can’t just leave!” The Metatron shouts.
“I can, and I will. Find a new Supreme Archangel and leave me out of Heaven’s mess. I was made for one thing and I let him slip away from me.”
“But, what about the Second Coming?”
Aziraphale rushes to the elevator. “I have given my last decree. I never want to step foot in this place again. Find a new Supreme Archangel. Leave me alone.” He presses the elevator open and steps inside.
Crowley stands and stares at the bookshop. Muriel is inside, talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and giving them book suggestions before the pair leaves.
“Six shots of espresso for the depressed demon in glasses?”
Crowley flicks his hand. “Thanks, Nina, but I’m—” That is not Nina’s voice.
Crowley turns around. Aziraphale is standing in front of him.
“Angel. Got tired of being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven or what-not?”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s expression is almost unreadable. Aziraphale reaches out and slowly takes Crowley’s sunglasses off. “I understand if you can’t forgive me. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I would forgive me. But…I was sitting by this stained glass window. Your stained glass window. And, it sounds strange, but I started crying. And I looked into your eyes… and I realized…we were made for each other. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
Crowley is silent for a second.
Then, he grabs Aziraphale and kisses him, again.
And Aziraphale kisses him back.
They hold each other, and the world fades away. The hum of the coffee machine silences. The patter of the rain stops. The chatter of the neighborhood ends. All that matters is that they are there, together, like they were made to be.
They slowly pull apart.
“You stupid angel,” Crowley whispers. “Of course I’ll forgive you. But you will never hear the end of this.”
“I expected nothing less.” Aziraphale smiles. “Now, I need extraordinary amounts of alcohol to cope with all of this.”
“I know the perfect place.”