Chapter Text
Crowley was standing in a white-walled room, and he was very certain that he was supposed to be dead.
Dead was perhaps the wrong word. Erased from existence, never having been there in the first place, with no one left to remember him or Heaven or Hell or Aziraphale—
Aziraphale.
On instinct, Crowley turned around and scanned the room, but he was alone. Which, well. That figured. Six thousand years of fighting to not be alone, millions more fighting for the right to be free, and here he was. Stuck in a little white room with two white doors and absolutely nobody else.
“I thought the deal was that you’d fuck off,” Crowley said with a half-hearted snarl, looking upwards. “Wasn’t it?”
They should have clarified their wording, Crowley realised. Create another universe and let it run. The operative word in that sentence was ‘a’ — there was wiggle room there. Technicalities to be explored. Plenty of room for a multiverse scenario, with an infinite number of other bloody universes where bloody God was still holding all the bloody cards.
“I do hate you for this, you know,” Crowley said to God. He sounded as tired as he felt. “You self-centred bastard.”
As if he’d summoned it, there was a crackle of energy and a small pop, and Crowley found himself staring at the second coming of Christ.
“Gosh,” said Jesus, his beautiful smile faltering at the look of flat disbelief on Crowley’s face, “I’m so sorry. I was meant to be here before you. Have you been waiting long?”
“Dunno,” said Crowley. “Not really.”
“I haven’t really got my head around the whole—” Jesus waved a hand in a small circle “—existence outside of time thing, yet. It’s a bit hard to be punctual.”
“Sure,” Crowley said.
“I wanted to be here to say hello,” Jesus said. “And to explain how this is all going to work.”
“What is ‘this’?” Crowley asked. “Is this a fucking ‘Welcome! Everything is fine’ type situation? Because I’ve got to tell you, kid, I’ve had it up to here with our blessed Mother and her games.”
Crowley half expected Jesus to look offended by that. He didn’t. He laughed. It was a good laugh, bright and cheerful. It fit his face, his gentle hands, the warmth of his eyes. Crowley had always liked him. In another world, they might have been friends.
“So have I,” Jesus said softly, and he pressed a hand to Crowley’s chest, right over the place where a heart Crowley shouldn’t have had was still beating. “Me and Mum are in a bit of a row at the moment, you see. And I just thought, well, I can’t fix everything that’s broken, but I can help you a bit. You and the angel, I mean.”
“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, just to be sure, ignoring the way his chest had gone tight. “Where is he? Is he alright? I swear to Someone, Yeshua, if you’ve let anything happen to him—”
Jesus held up his hands and backed away.
“He’s fine,” Jesus said quickly, “I gave him the same choice I’m giving you.”
“What?”
“It didn’t seem fair,” Jesus said. “You and him, never getting a real go at things. I’ve never got a real go either, because it was never part of the Plan. But I thought, hey, I don’t have to just sit around and do nothing, do I? I can give you a choice. I can let you try again, if you want to.”
“I do not,” Crowley said slowly, carefully, biting down on every syllable, “want to go through all of that again.”
Jesus blinked at him for a moment, uncertain, and then said, “Oh! No, no. Not like last time. You can try again, the same but different. You can be a part of the world you wanted Her to make. Properly, I mean.”
Crowley took a second to digest this.
“Properly,” he echoed. “How so?”
“You can be mortal,” Jesus said. He was playing with the hems of his sleeves. “Human, or near enough. Human lifespan. You’ll be born, grow older, get a job, pay taxes, all that.”
“And then I’ll die,” Crowley asked, “properly?”
Jesus looked nervous.
“Well, no, not exactly,” he said, looking at Crowley with those soft, kind eyes, “that didn’t seem very fair, either. You’re millions of years old. Seems like you should get more time, if you want it.”
“So when I die, I’d, what? Pop into existence somewhere else on Earth, get another go-round and another and another until the inevitable end of the universe?”
“Well, you’d come back here first,” Jesus said, and he was starting to smile now. He looked rather pleased with himself. It made Crowley think of Aziraphale. “And you can choose again. Every time, Crowley, you get to choose.”
Crowley felt faintly like a house had landed on top of him, but he swallowed hard and asked the most important question.
“And if I don’t want what you’re offering?” Crowley asked. “If I don’t want a human lifespan? What then?”
Jesus walked towards one of the doors, motioning with two fingers for Crowley to follow him. Crowley did, stepping out of the way as Jesus swung the door open.
The Pillars were beautiful. They always had been. Crowley had designed them that way.
“You can just… stop,” Jesus said quietly. He gestured at the Pillars of Creation, at the birthplace of stars, and then he turned to look at Crowley. “If you want everything to end, whenever you’re done, you can pick this door. And you won’t be anymore, not as you are. You’ll just…”
Jesus fluttered his fingers.
“Be part of the stars,” Crowley finished for him. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, right?”
Jesus’s smile brightened.
“Exactly,” he said, and Crowley felt himself soften. He smiled back.
“So that’s the choice, then,” Crowley said.
“Yes.”
“And I get to make it.”
“Yes.”
“And God, she won't crash this little party?” Crowley was looking at Jesus sternly now, watching as the blues and greens and pinks of his creation played across the Son of God’s face. “This is really just my choice?”
“Yes,” Jesus said, “yours, and Aziraphale’s.”
Aziraphale.
“What did he choose?” Crowley asked.
Jesus looked sympathetically at him.
“What?” Crowley asked.
“He didn’t get to know your choice,” Jesus said. “He asked, too. But if you know what he picked, it isn’t really only your choice, is it?”
Crowley thought about this, and he breathed.
“No,” he said finally, “I guess not.”
Jesus closed the door.
“You can think about it,” he said. There were two chairs in the room now that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll wait with you.”
Crowley sat. Jesus did, too.
“Do you want anything?” Jesus asked after a few moments of silence. “Aziraphale asked for—“
“A cup of cocoa,” Crowley said at the same time Jesus did, and he smiled despite himself. “And, what, are you going to miracle me up a cheese toastie if I ask for one?”
Jesus laughed. “Of course.”
“M’all good, thanks.”
“Okay.”
It didn’t take long. Crowley thought it should have taken longer, really, to think through a decision like this. He was surprised at himself, and he also wasn’t.
He stood, and he walked toward one of the doors.
“You’re ready?” Jesus asked, trailing behind Crowley with a smile on his lips. He pulled the door open, and Crowley saw green and blue in a sea of black.
“As I’ll ever be,” Crowley said. He tried to keep breathing, even though he didn’t need to. His heart was in his throat.
It was what he wanted. Why was he so afraid, when this was what he wanted?
Jesus set a hand on Crowley’s arm and squeezed.
“Maybe there will be new kingdoms this time,” Jesus said, and Crowley couldn’t hold back a hysterical bark of a laugh.
“Maybe,” Crowley said. “I’ll tell you about them when I get back.”
Jesus’s eyebrows went up.
“I’d like that,” he said. “You’ve always been so kind to me, you know.”
Once, Crowley would have protested that. But he was old, and he was tired, and he was.
“I know,” Crowley said, and he stepped through the door.