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Aziraphale followed Crowley onto the bus. The Demon sprawled in a window seat with the careless abandon he did most things and proceeded to stare out the window into the dark night. Silence spread between them. Not unpleasant, but full of things yet to be said and examined. Not the least of which was the end of the world, which had not happened, and the reprisals which had yet to begin.
The Angel was tired. Not physically, but emotionally and most especially, spiritually. He didn't quite feel like his angelic self after all that had happened and that frightened him. Without looking at Crowley, he spoke in the dark.
"May I ask you something?"
Crowley roused himself from his thoughts enough to turn.
"Hum?"
"I was thinking of something, something you had said."
The Demon's dark head tilted. "I say a lot of things."
Aziraphale tittered and shot Crowley a quick look. "Yes, but this was just now... on the bench. You offered I stay with you and I said my side wouldn't like it..."
"And I said something intelligent about how we don't have sides now, that it is just the two of us."
The Angel looked at the Demon. "Yes, that." He cleared his throat and noticed he was worrying his hands in his anxiety to get the words right. After swallowing he placed his hands firmly on the seat on either side of him, trying very hard to appear composed.
"I suppose what I am trying to ask is: is it really just us now? I mean, will they come for us? Heaven and Hell?"
Crowley continued to stare at him. His face was mere shades of grey in the night and his glasses obscured any chance of seeing the expression in his eyes, but his body language spoke volumes. He shifted his position, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and looked away, out the window again.
"Yes Ange... Aziraphale. I expect they will. No angry notes this time, no light torture or slight dismemberment. Complete obliteration." He let his face fall towards Aziraphale for a moment. "We did cock up their precious war, after all."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose we did do that."
Aziraphale closed his eyes. He did so like this world and this was the last day they would ever see it. Quite a shame, really. A new restaurant was opening around the corner and he would never go there.
A warmth spread over his left hand. He opened his eyes to see Crowley's hand covering his. The heat from his hand was like a mild flame. It was good and strong and warm. But when he looked up surprised, Crowley was still looking away, intent on the window.
Aziraphale didn't move. The warmth of his friend's hand reminded him that he was not alone. Even if they were destroyed tomorrow, they were still alive today. And even if Aziraphale was scared, he wondered if Crowley was even more scared. After all, Crowley had faced Hell's wrath numerous times after their encounters and each time he was so broken when he returned.
Aziraphale tried to turn his hand over, as to hold Crowley's properly, but the movement prompted Crowley to take his hand away and cross both arms across his chest. The Angel felt cold without him. His body gave a quick shiver and he crossed his own arms across his chest. Crowley noticed and looked over, inquiringly.
Aziraphale shook his head quickly with a tight smile but changed his mind, changing to a new topic.
"What do you suppose the prophecy meant?"
"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe it just means we realize our real priorities and faces. You're not really an Angel anymore and I am less of a Demon than I was. So what are we? I suppose we already dealt with the fire bit, though. My car, your bookshop."
He made a little explosion noise complete with wagging fingers as flames. Afterward he stretched one arm out along the window, propped on this knee and the other behind Aziraphale's chair.
Aziraphale was very aware of its weight behind his head, but it wasn't touching him at all. He reigned in his thoughts. "I don't think she would be that obscure."
Crowley popped an eyebrow at him. "She absolutely would be."
"I mean, I like to think Agnes is giving us an answer. You know... so we don't have to die.?"
It felt ridiculous, but the little scrap of paper did give him hope. If Agnes saw all of this and knew they would be in danger, she would give them the answer, right? And she was always correct.
A dubious look dominated Crowley's face. "Think whatever you like Aziraphale, but I have seen Hell and it's over." He scratched his chin. "Should have gone to Alpha Centuri."
Aziraphale was heartbroken to see Crowley so resigned. There had to be a way to get his brilliant mind working again. He was a designer of great plans, an engineer of wonderful ideas and here he sat broken on a bus, awaiting death. What to do!
His frustration bubbled up. "Darn it Crowley, this is all your fault!"
That got Crowley's attention and he sat up a tad bit straighter. "Beg pardon?"
"You! You said we could fix it and go on living in this world. 'Cute restaurants and old bookshops'. The two of us! There must be a way. There must! Every time things get hard you shut down and turn away. But you need to help me this time. We have to find it! And you're not even trying!"
Crowley took this in with a look of hurt surprise. It was harsh, but he needed his clever friend back. Brooding Crowley would just have to wait.
Cowley's face darkened and his lips curled slightly, revealing his predatory teeth. His Demon look. "Have you seen hellfire, Aziraphale? Have you seen the darkest pits of Tartarus? Or smelled your own flesh smoke? Seen it peel from your own body? Because I have! Not to mention all that holy bullshit they have in heaven to torment the damned. I mean, I myself liquified a Duke of hell with that holy water you gave me. It wasn't pleasant. "
Aghast, "you didn't!"
"I certainly did."
"But what if it had splashed you!"
"I expect I would be a puddle of goo as well... but my point is, I don't see how we are getting out of this one. No deus ex machina here."
The Demon threw his head back so he was staring at the ceiling of the bus. Seeing through it, most like. Seeing up to his Nebula. Cords of tension lined his neck. "I saw, you must have seen, how Gabriel and Beelzebub were talking. We are properly fucked Angel."
In the silence that followed, Aziraphale could hear and feel the slight tapping of Crowley's fingers behind his seat. A nervous tick, perhaps. But Aziraphale was stuck on something Crowley had said. "Do you think, I mean really think, that... both sides... would work together on this? Punishing us, I mean."
Silence.
Aziraphale gently reached over and took the glasses from Crowley's face. It was always so much better when he could see his eyes.
Crowley now looked tired. The same tired Aziraphale was. "They are both bastards, so yeah. I suspect they might. 'Never see it coming' or something clever." His lip twisted with this idea of his bosses machinations.
The Demon's eyes became softer, more vulnerable. "I never wanted to see you get hurt Aziraphale. And I suppose you're right: All my fault."
Guilt ripped Aziraphale wide open. He had been hoping to inspire clever Crowley, now he had unleashed broken Crowley. Aziraphale bit his lip and tried to think. But it was hard. Crowley was just crumpled there, staring at him with his lovely yellow eyes, watching his Angel abuse his own lip in thought. So Aziraphale, former Principality, former Angel of the eastern gate and former owner of a wicked flaming sword did something impulsive for the first time in his very long life. He leaned toward his friend, put one hand gently on his warm cheek and kissed him.
Even Crowley's lips burned hot.
The kiss was not long, nor was it especially songworthy, but it was their first, quite possibly their last and it was full of emotion kept in check for far too long.
As he pulled back, Aziraphale saw that Crowley's face was confused. Not without reason, of course. But Aziraphale knew he had done the right thing. His Crowley needed love and trust and loyalty: all the things denied him during his tenure as a Demon. And of course Aziraphale could and would give him all of these things: He loved him.
He felt his cheeks burn at the very idea. It had always been there, this love. Well, nearly always. A few hundred years at least. But why had he waited until now?
Ah yes, they were going to die.
Right.
He looked back at Crowley, who was still staring at him, silent and confused.
"I think I will come back to your flat with you. I mean if the offer is still open and all?"
Crowley's hand snaked up over the back of the seat and firmly gripped Aziraphale's shoulder. The fingers were hot and bruising but Aziraphale didn't mind one bit. This was Crowley, his Crowley. He was sitting up again. Aziraphale could practically hear new ideas whirling through his head.
"Uh, yeah. Brilliant idea. After all, where else are you going to go?"
Tired, so tired, Aziraphale laid his blonde head on his Demon's shoulder and let his eyes close, a smile on his face. He felt so safe right now. Crowley was brilliant; he would think of something. And although he didn't see it, he could have sworn he heard the sizzle of water evaporating in small droplets, as if a Demon were leaking tears. But he was too tired to investigate, so he dozed.
Something was rubbing his cheek. Aziraphale tried to flick it away without opening his eyes. He felt so warm. It would be a shame to lose this perfect comfy feeling.
But the sensation chafed his cheek again and now he heard something. Someone was calling his name.
He fought his way up to full consciousness.
"There he is. Come on there Aziraphale, we're home."
Aziraphale blinked. It was Crowley. Ah yes. He sat up straight. It was Crowley and they were on a bus. Or rather getting off the bus.
He shuffled into the aisle and to the doors. Footsteps behind him insured Crowley was only a step away.
They exited at a tall modern looking building. All glass and gray. Nothing old fashioned or Gothic revival here. But seeing Crowley in front of the building, Aziraphale decided it suited him just fine.
The Demon led the way into the building to the elevator and made way for Aziraphale to go first.
Up they went. It occurred to Aziraphale in the silence that it was rather reminiscent of the most direct doors to heaven. But he sadly reflected that he probably wouldn't be going there again. Possibly for... the end, but certainly never again in good faith.
If Crowley noticed Aziraphale's dark thoughts, he said nothing, trapped in his own, and led the way out after the elevator stopped. The door he stopped in front of was plain black with the simple numbers 666 in blazing aluminum. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
"A little on the nose, isn't it?"
"Hellish sense of humor, I expect. Flat came with the post. Not sure I would have been that literal."
Crowley opened the door and walked in. But Aziraphale waited. Even as not-so-much-an-Angel as before, he could feel the Demonic pressure keeping him out of this hellish domicile and wondered for the first time if this was how it had been for Crowley the first time he had entered the book shop.
Crowley turned and saw him waiting, confused for a moment and then sauntered back to the threshold and reached out into the hall. "Come on in, Angel."
Aziraphale took his fingers and wrapped them in his own. All the feelings of menace stopped abruptly, and he was able to walk inside, holding Crowley's hand.
The flat was desperately simple. Gray walls, gray floors, simple furniture with metallic features that looked suspiciously uncomfortable. On the walls were a few framed pictures, all in black and white. He pulled back on Crowley's hand as the Demon sauntered further in to see what these pictures were.
They were mechanical drawings, as far as he could tell. The first had pieces and parts exploded from the center with tiny numbers and letters that corresponded to a list on the left. Another frame boasted what Aziraphale guessed was a clock blue print? And the third.... heavens, what was the third? He looked to Crowley expectantly.
The demon looked from the pictures to Aziraphale and back again. "Right. Well that one is the engine of my Bentley. Rather proud of that one. That one is a blue print of Big Ben. Stole it and gave them another so the time would always be half a tick off. Ha! And this one is Wardenclyffe tower. Great invention that."
Aziraphale gazed up at Crowley as he examined the mess of squiggles, numbers and lines. The Demon was enraptured by the picture. He could see something in it the Angel could not, clearly. But Aziraphale loved it all the same, because it made Crowley so happy.
"Do you see how perfect it was? Free energy for everyone if he had gotten it up and running. So elegant, so beautiful. Shame we had to destroy it."
That caught Aziraphale off guard. "You what?!"
"Not me personally, American staff. But yeah. A shame. But it would have brought peace and prosperity, blah, blah, blah."
Aziraphale was outraged. "That's monstrous. You obviously loved this thing."
"Yes well... a Demon and all."
Still, Crowley looked lovingly at the print. "Do you see it?"
Aziraphale shook his head. "No. No I am afraid not. More a head for books and art. Numbers and science don't mean much to me."
But they still stood there for an extra moment looking at the technology that meant something special to Crowley. It was important.
"Shall I give you the tour."
"Yes. Please."
There wasn't much of a tour. More gray, more modern furniture. Aziraphale quite liked the gorgeous green plants and a simply stunning sketch of the Mona Lisa, but otherwise there wasn't much to see. A kitchen with no food. A bed it looked like no one slept in and a closet that only held lines and lines of black clothes. The view, however, was stunning. Darkness was just giving way to dawn and the gold of streetlights were losing power to the sunrise.
"Care for a drink, Angel?"
Aziraphale pulled himself away from the view. "Tea?"
Crowley looked disgusted. "Whiskey?"
It was hard not to smile. "Wine perhaps?"
"Yes!" Delighted, Crowley pulled a bottle and began the business of opening the spirit.
Aziraphale chose the most comfortable of the uncomfortable looking chairs and sat down. Crowley, after handing the Angel his glass, flung himself over the most convenient horizontal structure, in typical Crowley fashion, and made it look as though it was made for him. Perhaps it was.
They both waited, not saying anything. Aziraphale wanted to give Crowley whatever time he needed to process the events... and his actions. And then he might talk about it. Or he might not. One never quite knew with a Demon.
Aziraphale was currently thinking about the kiss he had given Crowley, and he certainly didn't regret it. In fact, he smiled just thinking of it.
"What?" Crowley neatly barked at him.
A sly smile and a head shake. "Nothing at all."
Crowley took a very, very long drink after that.
Although Aziraphale was having a great deal of fun in his newly recognized feelings, he knew time was running out. Smirking at his not so demonic Demon was not going to save them from destruction. He put on a more serious face.
"Have you had any thoughts...?"
"Dozens."
Aziraphale licked his lips and soldiered on. "About what to do?"
Crowley took off his glasses and leaned toward the Angel.
"Heaven and Hell?"
"Right. That." He sat back, replacing the glasses.
"I had a bit of a think while you were sleeping off your hard day’s work."
It was hard to suppress the smirk, so Aziraphale sipped wine instead.
“They... Heaven, Hell, all of them, think we... you and I, were working together. "
"Obviously."
"They'll think I turned a little too Angelic..." He spat out the word, which stung Aziraphale a bit, but he let it go.
"... and you a bit, fallen."
Aziraphale sighed. "I suppose that's true. All your influences, I'm afraid."
Crowley seemed delighted by that. He stood and began pacing the room. His energy that of a pent up, very large cat... on coffee.
"So if my side wants revenge on me for being so holy, they might try to Be holy."
Aziraphale set down his glass. "I don't follow. "
"Holy water, or the wafer or a relic or something."
It was barbaric. "That's barbaric!"
Crowley grinned a serpent grin. "Isn't it just!"
Wheels turned in Aziraphale's head. "There is no precedent for that. I've never heard of them collaborating like that before... have you?"
Crowley absently scratched his chin. "No. Doesn't mean they won't though. You saw Gabriel and Beelzebub. Never thought I'd see them talking. “Horrid sight."
Aziraphale shuttered. "I quite agree. But if they touch you with the wafer, you'll surely die. Even knowing the answer doesn't fix the problem."
Crowley was damn near glowing. Aziraphale could feel demonic heat pouring from his side of the room. Was this what happened when Crowley was really excited about something? He heated up like a firework?
"Ah, but it can! Remember your pet prophecy?"
Frowning, Aziraphale reached into his pocket to collect the scrap of paper. He reread it. Again. "What? I don't see... what?"
Crowley was actually jumping in excitement about his idea. "You're the clever book one, come on!"
Aziraphale tries to clear his head. All he could see was Crowley tied up and getting anointed with holy oil which would, of course kill him. Holy oil from heaven. From an Angel.
Angrily, he pounded his fist on the metal chair. How had heaven become this corrupted? Hurting other Angels, hurting children, starting wars, killing Crowley... he rubbed his face. Someone really needed to fix heaven. This was ridiculous.
"Come on Angel!"
"I don't know!" Aziraphale spat the words. "I would take your place in an instant, you know that, but how do we fix this!!!"
"Yessssssssssss." Crowley's hiss was pure Demon.
"What?" Aziraphale's head hurt. Why was there nothing to eat up here? He sipped wine and then clutched the glass.
Crowley came around the table, knelt before him and took the wine glass from his hands. "Yes. Choose your face."
Aziraphale shook his head. "But we did that. We chose our 'group of two'."
Crowley reached out and held Aziraphale's face between his hands. They were hot, almost uncomfortably so, but so intense was the look in Crowley's eyes he dared not look away.
"We choose each other's faces. We become each other."
Choise faces, face fyre.
Aziraphale's face lit up a bit. "OH, I see!"
The Demon grinned with all this teeth.
But Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's with some pressure enough to push them off his face, although he kept them in his own.
"But Crowley... what if we are wrong. What if it is just an eternity of paperwork in Heaven, literally chained to a desk. What if they bless me to exercise the demonic force... you! What if instead of hellfire it's the deepest pit of hell? Or flaying? What if we are wrong. It would be forever, oblivion. I cannot ask you to risk that for me."
Crowley freed a hand to lift the Angel's drooping chin. "You said you would save me in an instant. And you Know I would save you no matter what."
Aziraphale smiled a little grin at that.
"It fits too well with Agnes' opus not to be true, and you know it."
"Crowley, I'm worried."
But the Demon had his swagger back. "Buck up Angel, you're always worried."
Aziraphale took umbridge with that. "I am not."
Crowley stood and retrieved his wine glass, filling it up again. "Are too."
He then filled Aziraphale's glass again without the Angel even knowing.
"I'll have you know that I was entirely confident you would figure out a solution. I was not at all worried."
Crowley laughed into his wine. "What nonsense. You thought we were going to die."
"Of course not... It’s just that every fiber of the universe suggested it was a very real possibility. And it still is."
"Shut up." But Crowley said it with levity. "It's all going to be fine now. Just watch and see." He sprawled on the... table? Chaise?
Aziraphale felt great faith in Crowley and in this plan. As Crowley had said, it fit in very nicely with Agnes's prophecy... but there was one problem. He leaned toward Crowley.
"Do you actually know how to do that miracle? Turning me into you and you into me?"
Crowley sucked wine through his teeth. An unpleasant action but very Crowley. He shrugged. "Can't be too hard, can it?"
Aziraphale begged to differ. "It's not a bit of possession, now is it? At your core you must be you and I must be me; we must both look and sound like each other though."
Crowley looked highly amused. "You are going to sound like me? Tickety boo? Ha!"
That was mildly offensive. "I have seen and heard you nearly every day... or every other day... or often enough, for millennia! I think I can act sarcastic and sullen enough to fool a devil or two."
Crowley stopped looking amused. "More to it than that."
"Yes, I expect there is..."
"Just like I need to act angelic and innocent and accept whatever they throw at me to be a perfect Angel." Crowley waved his hands in the air like wings.
"I say!" That wounded Aziraphale greatly.
They sat in the same room, drinking wine and not speaking for several minutes, each mildly stung by the others’ criticism. Was that really what they thought of each other, after all this time?
Aziraphale cleared his throat. "We can worry about that later."
Crowley's head came up from its reclined pose. "Later? It is later."
Aziraphale turned to see the breaking dawn was now a perfect sunshiny morning.
"Please Crowley, it's close to a possession. You might be better at the miraculous execution than I."
The demon gave him a pointed look.
"Excuse the phrasing."
Crowley growled and sat up, plunking the empty wine glass and bottle on the gray carpet. "Alright angel, come over here."
Aziraphale was dubious.
"If I am going to change us into... us, we need to be close to one another."
It sounded logical, but Crowley looked very similar to his reptilian avatar at the moment, coiled and dangerous. Still, Aziraphale stood, tugged down his waistcoat and joined Crowley on the yet unidentified piece of furniture.
When Aziraphale failed to look directly at him, overwhelmed as he was by the Demons proximity, Crowley hissed in his ear, "Look at me."
He turned to give the demanding Demon an innocent look.
"Do you want me to do this right, Angel?"
He did, but he had been hoping for just a little more time to enjoy being alone with Crowley, even if he was at present a grumpy companion. It would have been pleasant to talk more, to touch more, to reminisce and especially to kiss on this.... what the blast was this piece of furniture?!
But alas, they must make their choices, chose their faces, as one combustible Witch might say, before the powers of ever after came for them. So Aziraphale let loose a lamentable sigh and faced his Demon.
"In case this all goes pear shaped, I adore you Crowley. "
The intent Demon barely blinked. Aziraphale wasn't even sure he heard him, and then there was a sliding feeling. His thoughts blurred and so did his eyesight. And then, there he was, staring at himself.
"Remarkable!" The word was a drawl.
He looked down. Black jacket, snake belt, jeans that were much too tights and black boots. But his skin felt cool, not Crowley's overly warm flesh. He was in fact himself, just as Crowley.
He looked back at the blonde beside him.
Crowley looked less amused. He tugged at the tie and curled his lip a bit when he ran his hands down the velvet waistcoat.
"Crowley, do you have a mirror? This bears investigation, I think."
Blonde Crowley was now running his hand through the short hair. "Yeah yeah, that way," pointing vaguely left, "but nothing weird! No.... peeking."
"Really," dark Aziraphale blushed, "it's as if you didn't know me at all."
The look on Crowley's borrowed face was intense.
"And don't make that face. Not at all angelic."
Aziraphale strolled away.
"And I Walk. I do not Prance!"
They investigated and practiced on their own for undetermined time. It was harder than one thought to inhabit someone else, even if one had known the other for millennia. When they met back up the sun was headed toward midday and they both seemed to have better sense of their new facades.
Aziraphale as Crowley had come to a rather hopeful hypothesis while looking out the window. "You know, I do think that some things that were lost may now be restored."
Blonde Crowley stood up, straightening his waistcoat and tie. Very nice, thought Aziraphale.
"That's right. Adam set things right before he elected to become wholly human with a wholly human father."
Dark Aziraphale leaned back in a, hopefully debonair pose, and raising a sullen eyebrow observed: "I just thought, perhaps the old bookshop may be back and ready to not sell books."
The blonde thought hard and then nodded. "I suppose that's possible."
Aziraphale's heart leapt for his books. "Perhaps I should saunter over and check it out?"
"No." Blonde Crowley stepped forward. "I'll check in on the shop. It is after all My shop." He popped the p in shop in a way no Angel would. "You stay here. I would."
The Demon in disguise walked past his angelic doppelganger, but a dark hand arrested him.
"Meet me in the garden. At noon. We'll have a snack, trade information." The anxiety was hard to misplace, drawl or fussy titter. "Please, I will want to see that you're alright."
The blonde Demon looked at him and nodded once.
Aziraphale prepared to wait in this modern prison; it was only an hour or so. But before he could find somewhere acceptable to sit, a sturdy hand pulled him into a close embrace.
It's odd, being embraced by one's self, but knowing it was in fact by his closest friend, his only ally and his perfect love made it ok somehow.
"When this is over, you and I should probably have one of those long discussions they talk about in movies all the time. I do have some questions I would definitely like answers to."
Aziraphale smiled a little smile and closed his eyes. It was a little easier that way. "You ask too many questions, Crowley. It will get you into trouble one day."
The Demon growled and let him go. With one parting "Be careful, I'm warning you," he left the flat.
"I will see you soon, my love." Aziraphale whispered to the closed door, but only the verdant green plants could hear him.