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Summary
“Tell me, Aziraphale-”
His eyes snapped open at the sound of his name, loud and startling. The warm embrace of nothingness shattered as he came back to himself, floating in an endless vacuum of white so blinding, he instinctively shied away.
“What is it that you want?”
“What I-?” For so long, it hadn’t mattered what he wanted - his duty was to Heaven and doing the right thing. Wanting had always been Crowley’s domain.
Aziraphale looked around the space helplessly, desperate to spot a familiar set of yellow eyes amid the overwhelming white of oblivion. His heart sank at the distinct emptiness by his side. “I don’t understand. God, why did you bring me back?”
“If the choice was yours,” She reiterated, phaning ignorance at his obvious plight, “what would you have chosen?”
Aziraphale looked out into the vast white and took a steadying breath. “I would have chosen Crowley,” he admitted.
OR
Crowley gets his wish, but so does Aziraphale - in classic ineffable style.