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It was a crisp August evening. The kind in which Anthony loved to step out into the backyard and look up at the stars. He had always been fascinated with stars, with galaxies and nebulae, ever since he was a child. In fact, he had tried to name three family dogs Nebula, Star, and Galaxy when he was 6. His mother never allowed it, of course, those weren't names for a dog, according to her. Anthony still disagreed. Rather strongly. He had grown up so in awe that he'd nearly been hit by a bus on his way back home from school one day. Well, that was the story he told everyone. He had actually gotten hit. Five stitches above his eyebrow and a fractured radius were proof for weeks.
Now, at 53 years old, he was still obsessed. He had written a book on astrophysics. Damn, he wondered if he'd be there now if he hadn't. He wondered how many decisions had led him there.
"Are you caught up in your head again, dear?"
Anthony turned away from the window with an involuntary hum.
"You were looking at the stars again." He smiled, walking to the kitchen. "They are not out yet, how can you appreciate them?"
He leaned against the doorframe.
"Oh, Angel, you would be surprised, I have every star location perfectly forged in my brain," he said.
Asa frowned lightly. "I have always wondered, Anthony..." He looked up from the blender. "Why do you call me Angel?"
Anthony paused, hesitant. "Oh... uh... I don't know, really..." He had never considered another option. "It just feels right to call you Angel, I don't know why." He shrugged, stepping into the kitchen. "What are you making? We had dinner half an hour ago." He smiled fondly as Asa grabbed the blender's lid.
Inside the jar, there were strawberries and a banana.
"You don't like banana," he said before the sound of the blender filled the room. "In fact, you hate the taste of banana. I made banana bread that one time and you nearly threw it at my face."
Asa laughed, turning off the blender and picking up a glass from the cupboard. "That banana bread was hardly edible, my dear. And, you are right, I do not like bananas... but you do, and this is for you." Anthony wrapped his arms around him. "I'm having some cocoa."
Anthony laughed. "Of course, you are," he said. "And why are you making me a smoothie if you're having cocoa? That sounds unfair."
"Well, my dear, you have been feeling unwell lately; I would rather not contribute to an upset stomach." Anthony wanted to scream, but the way Asa had spoken the words, it was softer than anything else anyone had spoken in the history of the universe. That was how Asa always spoke to him.
For a few moments, Anthony simply rested his chin on Asa's shoulder, watching as he poured the pink liquid into the glass.
It was true. He had been waking up every morning with a terrible headache that kept getting worse every day. The past few days, it had made him dizzy and nauseous, though he had not said a word about that. A trip to the hospital was the last thing he needed for a simple morning migraine.
In another universe, perhaps, Asa would have thought it was caused by a pregnancy for a ridiculous two minutes.
Asa took the glass, and Anthony moved away from him just enough to take it, reaching for a painkiller with his other hand.
"You know," Anthony started, "these migraines are going to be the death of me." It wasn't entirely a joke, but he managed to make it sound like one just long enough.
As soon as he took the glass from Asa's hand, it slipped right off onto the floor. His brown eyes widened, and he stepped back.
"Shit," he muttered. "Sorry, I- I'll..." As he bent down to pick up the broken pieces of glass so Asa wouldn't have to do it and get hurt with the edges, he began to sway.
"Tony?" Asa's voice felt distant, almost like he was underwater.
The world faded.
"Let there be matter, let there be gravity. Let there be everything from pages 11 to 3.000.602 inclusive."
"Well... I am a demon. Maybe I'm lying."
"What kind of stupid question is that, 'still a demon'? What else am I gonna be, an aardvark?"
"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, Angel, only humans do that."
"That's the point, no nightingales. You idiot, we could've been us."
There was no way to describe everything that went through Anthony's brain. Nothing that would explain it better than the scream that tore through him.
His sight filled with a bright light, brighter than the brightest of stars or supernovas. Brighter than anything the universe had ever experienced.
"I do not accept that you get to make all these decisions. Why should that be?"
"I want a real universe. I want people to have a chance. I want free will to be a real thing. People deserve the chance to live in the real world. Even if there are no angels. No Demons. No us... ever again."
"Anthony! Anthony, look at me." Asa dropped in front of him just as Anthony's head was about to collide with the counter. "Anthony-"
The light in Anthony's sight vanished into darkness. Finally, he blinked slowly, disoriented and with a migraine worse than anything he'd ever felt before.
"... Crowley, you're home, with me... look at me, love."
Anthony's gaze drifted around the kitchen, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Aziraphale..." he whispered, not quite fully conscious yet.
Asa frowned lightly. "Anthony," he said softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek with the gentleness of a former Angel. "Look at me."
Silence followed, only broken by Anthony gasping for air, as his gaze, unfocused and glazed, landed on Asa.
"That's it, Darling..." Asa smiled. "There you go, just look at me..." He traced Anthony's cheek with his thumb. "Breathe." Anthony blinked slowly. "Can you tell me where we are?"
Anthony shifted a little. "South Downs... kitchen," he said. "M'fine, Angel. Sorry, I jus' got dizzy." He hated the look Asa was giving him, the soft, genuine concern that told him he wasn't going to let it go anytime soon. "And, before you ask... didn't hit my head." He rubbed his eyes, leaning his head against the cabinet.
"You said that last time. And you had a concussion. And you were bleeding." Asa ran his hands through Anthony's ginger curls to check for any blood. "And I am not taking any chances with your well-being, dear."
Anthony wasn't listening to him; he just looked at him with the mind of a starmaker, the mind of a being older than time itself, through the eyes of a 53-year-old man who now understood everything that had never made any sense in his life. He didn't see the man he'd married; he saw the angel he'd spent an eternity with. He saw the angel he'd given up everything for time and time again, and the angel he'd given up for all of humanity to have a chance.
But that man wasn't Aziraphale. Not really. He looked like him, he felt like him, he even smelled like him, but it wasn't him. His Aziraphale was trapped somewhere in that beautiful blond head, begging to be released.
And Anthony knew that, and it brought a great deal of sorrow he couldn't show.
He forced a small smile.
"Well... there is no blood, and I am fine," he said. "Really." He shifted again and pressed a gentle kiss on Asa's cheek. "See? I'm fine." He reached up to the edge of the counter and pulled himself to stand, only then noticing a small cut on his hand from the shattered glass.
Asa hadn't noticed that yet. He stood after Anthony, looking at him with a concerned yet slightly playful gaze. "Your hair color is highly inconvenient when one's trying to check for head injuries, you know that?" He watched Anthony turn on the tap and place his hand under the cool water and sighed. "That is not fine, that's blood where I come from."
Anthony glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "I mean... You were talking about a head injury, and there is none. And this is just a cut, a small and insignificant cut. Where I come from, this is nothing."
Asa squinted, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, dear... but you are Scottish. That is an entirely different world. You people are weird up there."
Anthony felt a lump in his throat. Scottish. Right. He couldn't imply he was from Heaven or Hell. There was no such thing anymore. That had been the deal.
"Oh, shut up, Mr. Londonman," Anthony muttered, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Scotland is not a different world. It's just better."
For a moment, everything was fine. Everything was normal. Everything was as it had always been, a light banter in the kitchen over the most ridiculous things.
Anthony grabbed a paper towel and dried his hand a little, pressing lightly on the wound to prevent further bleeding. He looked at Asa again and almost saw Aziraphale in his place. He smiled.
Asa tilted his head, blushing lightly under Anthony's gaze. "What?"
Anthony sighed, looking away just long enough to set the wet and slightly bloody paper towel on the counter. "Nothing," he said softly, stepping closer to Asa. He gently put his hands on Asa's waist. "I just... I feel like the entire universe was built for you... for us." Asa's eyes began to mist. "I feel like I've known you for six thousand years and all these... 14 billion years, I've just been waiting for you."
"Anthony..."
"Wait, I'm not finished. And I have a feeling that me... giving you a declaration speech shouldn't be interrupted." Asa shut up immediately, his smile not faltering. "If I could, Angel, I would spend fourteen and forty billion years with you. And I wouldn't get tired of it for a second."
Asa chuckled. "You would. You wouldn't say that if you had to spend even a hundred years hearing me talk about books."
Anthony shook his head. "I could spend thousands of years, and I would still come back to hear you rant about some... old manuscript you've located in Tadfield," he said. "And I would drive all the way to Moscow if you wanted a book that is only there."
Asa smiled, cupping Anthony's cheeks. "I love you. But this speech is far more heartfelt than your wedding vows."
"Well..." Anthony's gaze drifted to Asa's lips briefly. "I know you better now. And I know myself better, too. I didn't really know who we were back then." Asa's thumb brushed Anthony's cheekbone. "I know who we are now," he said softly.
"You know now? Who are we?" Asa's blue eyes met Anthony's, a gentle, adoring, curious look in them.
"You are an angel... I am a demon... a terribly awful demon who can't do a bad deed to save his life..." Asa chuckled. "So terrible, he fell in love with an angel. So terrible he'd face anyone to keep his angel safe."
"You're wrong about one thing," Asa's voice shook. "You are not a demon... You are everything this angel ever wanted," he said softly. "I look at you, and I don't see a demon..." Anthony's smile almost faltered. Of course, he didn't see a demon. "I see a soul that was made to be happy, despite everything... a soul that was meant to look up at the night sky and appreciate every star regardless of how far away it is. I see a man who walked into my bookshop once and didn't leave until he married me."
Anthony smiled a bit. "Some had to do it, and I was not going to let anyone else come in and steal you from me." He leaned closer for a kiss before stopping a breath away. His gaze drifted to the window behind Asa.
It was dark outside.
"Oh, God..." he breathed out.
Asa frowned and turned, following Anthony's gaze to the window. "What is it, dear?"
Anthony didn't answer; he just stepped away from Asa and walked to the back door, reaching for the handle before his fingertips could touch it.
"Tony?" Asa asked, concern bleeding into his tone. "I... are you alright, my-"
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Anthony suddenly asked, stepping outside, gaze cast up into the sky.
He remembered Aziraphale that first time they met, creating the universe. Well, not that one, the previous one. He remembered Aziraphale's words.
"Well, they exist just so that the... people can look up at the night sky and marvel at the illimitable vastness of the Almighty's creation."
He was marvelling at it... for the first time since the Fall, his eternal, six-thousand-year-old soul was seeing the stars.
Asa stepped out after him. "You see them every day, darling," he said softly. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"
Anthony didn't answer; he just felt his eyes sting slightly with unshed tears. "I missed them so much..."
With a sigh, Asa kissed his cheek and turned to head back inside. "I'll make you another drink, Tony, just go sit down, and I'll join you in a minute."
For once, Anthony did as told. He sat on his usual chair, the microscope forgotten beside him. He didn't need it tonight. The demon Crowley, the one who had rejected Hell and Heaven, the one who had given up on humanity countless times before giving everything up for the sake of it was finally seeing his creation from the spot it was always meant to be admired in.
Earth. With his angel. Safe from celestial wars.
Just Anthony Crowley and Asa Fell.
And, deep down, not Anthony but Crowley realised that he hadn't been truly afraid in the end because somewhere in his damned soul, he trusted God would never leave him and Aziraphale on their own. They were always meant to find each other, no matter what universe or time. He and Aziraphale had been created for each other once, and the very foundations of Creation always remembered that.