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“Say goodbye then!” God said almost cheerfully.
Turning to Aziraphale, Crowley had no idea what to say. How do you convey several millenia of love in a brief moment? Before Crowley could even open his mouth, Azirphale kissed two of his fingers then pressing them to Crowley’s lips. His mind went blank at the reverent gesture.
Such an action was usually reserved for holy devotion; done to the feet of religious statues and sacred scriptures. Crowley remembered doing that in his angel days quite well.
Aziraphale was telling him-telling God herself-he valued and loved Crowley above all else.
Crowley kissed his fingers back before smiling tremulously at his angel. Slowly, the atoms of he and Azirphale began to evaporate, in favor of a new world
Turned out non-existence was extraordinarily painful. Crowley felt like every part of him, down to the cells of his corporation, had been ripped apart and hastily put together again, but the glue had barely dried. His muscles and joints ached sharply, like he’d heard so many humans complain of before.
Wait…musclses? That shouldn’t be possible in non-existence.
Neither should the smell of old books and incense or the quiet ticking of a grandfather clock.
“Crowley?” came Aziraphale’s gentle voice and Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt him squeeze his fingers.
It was then that he realized he was in his corporation, that he still had eyes, but they were closed. What a revelation to peek one open, then the other to find himself in existence . He and Aziraphale were still holding hands, but they stood in the middle of the book shop, sans God and Satan.
Aziraphale gasped when he looked around, just as perplexed. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is this… a dream?”
“I don’t think so.”
Aziraphale then suddenly reached over and pinched him with his free hand. Crowley yelped. “What was that for?!”
“It’s what humans do when they think they’re in a dream!” Aziraphale protested. “I wanted to see if that would work for us.”
“Well it didn’t!”
Both of them turned around, examining the shop. It was significantly less dusty than before. The lamps were on, bathing the room in buttery golden light. Even boxes of Crowley’s plants, dark green and healthy, sat on the floor by the desk.
“I didn’t think non-existence would feel so real,” Aziraphale breathed.
“That’s because it shouldn’t.” Crowley looked around at the space, trying to process all he was seeing. “What is she playing at?”
“Should we check a book?” Aziraphale suggested.
Swallowing hard, Crowley nodded. They both trepidly approached one of the many book cases. With a trembling hand, Aziraphale reached for a tome and flipped open the pages. He checked the cover, and looked at Crowley with wide eyes. “It’s a Shakespeare sonnet collection. All here,” he breathed anxiously.
Crowley fumbled for a book which turned out to be A Tale of Two Cities. All of Charles Dickens’ words were there as well; no blank pages.
“What does this mean?” Aziraphale said as he looked through other novels finding all of his beloved stories.
Crowley couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not existing should mean just that: nothingness. The absence of all things. And this certainly wasn’t nothingness! He twisted around, eyeing the threadbare rug. He stomped over and yanked it off of the floor.
No circle.
No way to contact Heaven.
Now Crowley’s head was hurting for an entirely new reason, his heart rate skyrocketing with the reality of their situation. “The contact circle is gone.”
“B-but that can’t be!” Aziraphale cried, sounding almost hysterical.
“It’s almost like…” Crowley rushed to the shop window and his breath caught in his chest. “The real world.”
Aziraphale joined him and his mouth dropped open. Whickber Street was something out of a snowglobe. The sky was just turning dark as fat, fluffy snowflakes fell. It must have been snowing for a while as the sidewalks were already covered in a couple of centimeters of snow.
The Bentley was parked right outside, the windshield gleaming from the street lamps. All of the shops had been returned to their former glory and properly decorated for the holidays with strands of colored lights and sparkling garland. Across the street, Crowley could see Nina serving beverages to customers. Mrs. Sandwich had just stepped outside from Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death with a paper cup to hurry back to her own store. There was the hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers walking up and down the street, either rushing home with their treasures or on their way to find gifts for their loved ones.
“This–this makes no sense,” Aziraphale stammered, his voice pitching higher with building anxiety. “We shouldn’t be here! We shouldn’t be anywhere!”
Then suddenly Aziraphale took off through the front door with Crowley following close behind. The cold air immediately whipped in Crowley’s face, and he tucked his hands up into his armpits with a violent shiver. He barely noticed Maggie waving to them from her record shop.
“Angel, where are you going?”
Aziraphale nearly slipped on a patch of ice, catching himself on a parked car before he spilled across the pavement. “To get answers. We need answers.”
It was hard to think with Crowley’s head splitting from the literal discombobulation. He could barely filter out the sensory overload of the lights and sounds so he could concentrate on Aziraphale.
He must have not noticed a new clothing store occupying the space because Aziraphale tried his hand motions to activate the lift. Nothing happened. His motions were more jerky when he did it again over and over, and the lift not appearing.
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with terror. “It’s not working. Why isn't it working?”
“I don-”
“We need answers! We need to go to Heaven” His poor angel sounded hysterical.
“I don’t want to go to Heaven!” Crowley snapped even though he was desperate to make sense of everything.
“Too right!” some bloke said walking by.
Under normal circumstances, Crowley would find a comment like that amusing, but he didn’t have the presence of mind, with his attention focused on Aziraphale. “I don’t think it’s going to work. For either of us,” he explained gently. “There’s a store here now. Look.”
Aziraphale’s breaths started coming in quick gasps as he turned ashen in the early evening light. He dragged his hands down his face, whimpering in frustration.
Without warning, Aziraphale took off again, heading back to the bookshop. Crowley hustled after him, dodging groups of people.
When Crowley finally pushed his way inside he found Aziraphale bent at the waist, gulping for air.
“Angel! Angel!” Crowley called, putting a hand on Aziraphale’s back. “Hey, I’m right here.”
Clinging to Crowley’s arm tightly, Aziraphale gasped for air like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he choked out over and over again.
It was a very specific, very excruciating type of pain to see Aziraphale in such a state.
“Hey,” Crowley said softly. “You and me, we’ll figure this out.”
“It’s your world restored.”
Crowley and Aziraphale startled as they saw God and Satan in the same chairs as they had previously left them.
Taking a couple more deep breaths, Aziraphale slowly straightened up, but he leaned on Crowley as they stumbled over in front of their guests.
“What?” Crowley snarled.
Tilting her head, God considered him as if he were a wayward child. “Oh I’m sorry, Crowley, dear, I realize your ears may still be ringing from re-corporation. I said I restored your world.”
“That’s not what we asked!” Crowley yelled. “We wanted–”
God remained her infuriatingly calm self when she interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes I know a world where neither Heaven nor Hell existed. I did that; I also brought this one back as well.” She squinted at them. “I thought you would be a little more grateful.”
Before Crowley could pop off again, Aziraphale gently squeezed a hand around his bicep. “My Lord… why?” Aziraphale croaked.
Her eyes gentled. “You two could have had anything you wanted, anything at all, and you both decided to forsake your entire existence for the humans. One of the most selfless acts I have ever seen.” She smiled knowingly. “It was very reminiscent of someone I know.” She nodded to the window.
Both Crowley and Aziraphale turned to see Jesus outside sharing pizza once more. With a big, goofy grin he waved enthusiastically at the demon and angel before giving more slices to passerbyers.
“He wanted to share that trick one more time before we returned to Heaven.” God turned her attention to Crowley and Aziraphale. “That sort of sacrifice…I can’t ignore.”
“I could,” Satan muttered, but no one responded.
“So!” God clapped her hands together. “You have your world, including your beloved Whickber Street. The summoning circle is gone as are all of the lifts all over the world, walling off Heaven and Hell from Earth. Your humans have their free will. And you both wish to remain here, yes?” She merely shrugged at their silence. “Then I don’t think there’s anything else.”
Satan sputtered, “Th-there should be something else! What about our plans?! We just give it all up?”
Aziraphale cleared his throat which impressed Crowley to no end. Leave it to the angel to still be polite in this chaotic moment. “If-if I may m-make a suggestion?”
God gestured as if to say “go on” and Satan grunted.
“Collaborate. Make something that suits both of you.” Aziraphale brightened. “Oh! I have the perfect book!”
Everyone stared awkwardly at each other as Aziraphale perused his bookshelves. The silence was punctuated by his occasional, “Blast it, where is the book?” and “I thought I put it here.”
Crowley shook his head in fond exasperation; Aziraphale truly believed he could fix the end of the world with a book.
“Ah!” he sounded joyful moments later. “Here it is.” Aziraphale hurried back over with his hand out. “This. It’s called The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake. I think you both might find it illuminating.”
God accepted the book with a blank look. “I can’t say I’ve read this one.”
“Neither have I,” Satan said. “And I am by no means interested in marriage to her!”
“The feeling is mutual,” she replied in a clipped tone.
“Not like that,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “See William Blake believed good and evil were necessary for life which is what he thought of as marriage; a unified version of the cosmos, if you will. You two might be able to collaborate, and come up with something you both agree on.
“I-I-I think ch-change might do you all a bit of good.” He wrung his fingers nervously. “The choice shouldn’t be war or stasis. We should be capable of change. All of us.”
He turned back to Crowley with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley immediately took it and they interlocked their fingers tightly together. “After all, an angel designed in Heaven, by God’s hands, became just enough of a bastard for gluttony and pride and disobedience. And a demon proved he could be kind and nice.”
Crowley couldn’t help but choke on a watery laugh. “‘M not nice.”
“A lot nice, my dear,” Aziraphale countered softly. “And we worked well together and helped so many.” He turned back to the deities. “You both could too.”
God considered Satan. “Well? What do you think?”
Satan rubbed his chin. “It would involve a lot of negotiation. I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
God smirked, and Crowley privately thought she relished at the fact there would be more meetings and discussions between the two omnipotent beings. She was probably tickled by it.
“Something to think about,” she said. “Before we leave though, I do have one important request.”
Crowley flared his nostrils, ready to protest; of course it was too good to be true. There was always a catch.
“You two will be custodians of this.” And even Crowley’s jaw dropped as she handed over the Book of Life.
“This is to show I’m serious about not interfering,” she explained. “You will be able to have limited use of your powers in order to protect the book, but use them wisely and sparingly.” It sounded like she was lending them a copy of Pride and Prejudice instead of the bloody Book of Life.
“Th-th-this i-is–” Aziraphale gulped.
“What you wanted, yes?” At Crowley’s mumbled, “Gph,” she continued, “Then there’s nothing else! Come, Satan! We must be off.”
“Don’t forget to grab your son. You don’t want a repeat of the last time he was here,” Satan said before he headed outside first and God started after him.
She turned around almost as soon as she exited. “Also, please stop wasting time. I don’t mind slow burn stories, but six thousand years is a bit excessive.” And with that, God and Satan disappeared into the night.
“Did that… just happen?” Aziraphale wondered, clearly dazed by the turn of events.
“I… think so…?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “You really just gave away a book?”
Aziraphale frowned in that way he did whenever he was exasperated with Crowley, and Crowley adored it. “Hardly the point I was trying to make.” Looking down at his hands, Aziraphale properly registered what Crowley held. “First, we need to put that away!” He gently took the Book of Life and placed it reverently in a desk drawer.
“You’re storing the Book of Life in your desk?”
“Oh! Well yes, temporarily.” Azirphale waved his hand over the drawer and Crowley heard the telltale signs of multiple locks made by a miracle. “This will do until…” He paused for a long moment. “...you and I-we- find something more suitable.”
They stood across from each other, the silence deafening. Aziraphale broke first when he asked quietly, “I suppose we should finally talk.”
“Did you mean it?” Crowley blurted out. “What you told God? Did you mean it?”
“W-which part?”
“When you said that I compleh-” Crowley’s voice caught on the last word. “Mrrrr,” he growled in frustration. “When you said that I completed you.” The words came out strangled.
Aziraphale’s eyes shone with tears even as he smiled; there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation. “Oh yes. That…I’ve felt that way for a long time.” He chuckled wetly. “I just didn’t know it.”
Something big welled up inside Crowley, and he tried his best to keep it at bay.
“I’m so, so very sorry it took thousands of years for you to hear this from me.” It wasn’t a trick of the light or some heavenly powers, but Aziraphale actually lit up when he reverently said, “I love you.”
Perhaps God was right and the re-corporation had damaged his ears because Crowley couldn't have possibly heard that correctly.
His breath hitched when he asked, “Y’do?”
Nodding enthusiastically, Aziraphale smiled that infuriatingly bright smile that made his eyes crinkle. “I love you so very much.”
Crowley’s vision went hazy as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Biting his trembling lip, he could barely form a coherent thought.
And so Crowley responded eloquently; in the only way he knew how.
“Ngk,” he managed to get out. Followed by a host of other unintelligible sounds.
Aziraphale laughed before pulling Crowley into his arms. Burying his face in Aziraphale's neck, Crowley let out a sob.
“I’ve got you,” came Aziraphale's gentle whisper. Then he groaned in frustration. “I-I-I wish I had something more original than ‘I’ve got you.’ I’ve read that in so many books and it was the first thing that came to mind and I panicked. But I do, I’ve got you; forever it seems.”
He held Crowley tightly like he was precious, like he was the most important thing in the universe which only made Crowley cry harder.
It took a while before Crowley gained some semblance of control. He pulled back just enough to see his beloved angel. When Aziraphale brushed his fingers across Crowley's cheek to wipe away the tears, Crowley's eyes started watering again.
“Again?” he begged.
“I love you.”
Crowley whimpered, the words a balm to his fractured heart. “Again?” His hands gripped Aziraphale’s lapels tightly as he pressed their foreheads together.
There was an inelegant sniffle, then, “Oh my darling, Crowley, I do love nothing in the world so well as you.”
Shakespeare. Of course. The bastard.
With that, Crowley leaned down to press their lips together. It wasn't like their first kiss, frantic and desperate. It was like coming home after a storm and being wrapped up in a blanket. Aziraphale hummed happily and Crowley could feel the vibration across his lips and oh how that made his insides melt.
When they broke apart, they held each other, cheek to cheek. An immense wave of relief crashed over Crowley. Something he’d never experienced before.
“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley desperately choked out. “I do, I really do.”
“Oh good,” Aziraphale joked. “I was beginning to worry after I said it a few times. I was hoping you’d catch up.”
Snow continued to fall as night fell. The other stores closed one by one, though there was still a single light burning in the bookshop.
The gramophone played the dulcet piano tunes of a composer Crowley didn’t recognize. A couple of takeaway containers were abandoned, the food barely touched. The occupants of the shop were oblivious to everything around them but each other.
Crowley and Aziraphale lay on the sofa that miraculously fit both of them. A treat created for the two of them, after which they agreed to use their powers sparingly, as God had instructed.
Under a tartan blanket (because of course it was) Crowley had curled himself around Aziraphale, his head resting on the angel’s shoulder. Their fingers were intertwined on Aziraphale's chest, Aziraphale's other hand remained buried in Crowley's hair, lightly scratching across his scalp.
When Crowley felt a kiss on the tip of his nose, he grinned and nuzzled into Aziraphale's neck.
Leaning up , Crowley kissed the corner of Aziraphale's mouth, making his angel regard him with impossibly soft eyes and a loving smile.
“I love you,” Crowley murmured.
“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered back and Crowley settled back on his shoulder, only a few tears escaping that time. Maybe one day he’d actually stop getting so emotional when he heard those words.
Aziraphale sighed. “We have so much to talk about. Where should we star–”
With closed eyes, Crowley unlinked their hands to clumsily press a finger over Aziraphale’s lips. “Shhhhhh. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Aziraphale repeated in a way as if he almost didn’t believe it. “I suppose we do have time now.”
Crowley nodded. After he yawned, he slurred, “‘m s’ ‘ir.”
“I'm tired as well,” Aziraphale agreed. “Getting everything you want in a single day is exhausting.”
“We deserve a long sleep.”
“We certainly do.” With a snap, the lights shut off, leaving the shop in peaceful darkness.
“Rest, my dear,” Aziraphale instructed, his lips brushing reverently across Crowley’s forehead. “And dream of whatever you like best.”
“‘s you,” Crowley mumbled before finally falling asleep.