Chapter Text
SOHO, LONDON; EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO
“Oh, Crowley. Nothing lasts forever.”
Aziraphale meant the words to be soft as he said them, like a gentle reassurance that despite it all, things would be better from here on out. Safer, like a sanctuary extended beyond the walls of the bookshop that the both of them now called home. Home, after Armageddon failed to come, and after they’d been branded as traitors and nearly perished for what they’d done. And then he saw Crowley walk away, and the comfort he wished were in the phrase seemed to escape him.
“Crowley!” he called after him, “Crowley, come back!” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. How could there not be? The solution was right there, he could feel it. For the first time, it wasn’t just a hope at the back of his mind telling him that they would be safe. “To heaven!” he tried again, “Work with me!”
“We can be together! Angels, doing good.” he smiled, trying to look the demon in the eye. If only he could see what Aziraphale saw, then maybe, that wouldn’t be the case anymore. They wouldn’t need to hide.
But that wasn’t what happened, and only the fading feeling of soft lips against his own and the faint scent of houseplants lingered. That, and his final words, repeating endlessly in Aziraphale’s mind.
“Good luck.” he said, those beautiful, golden, tear-rimmed eyes once again obscured behind dark sunglasses.
“You idiot. We could’ve been… us.” and Aziraphale couldn’t understand why it had to turn out like this.
We could’ve been us. We could still be. So, please. Come with me. Please. Stay-!
“Aziraphale.” a voice shook him out of the memory.
He flinched, blinking at the sterner, and much higher ranking angel in front of him. The busy London streets refocused back into view before Aziraphale, pedestrians walking along as they would any other day. To them, the world was just the same as it had been the day before, although it seemed to him anything but.
“Are you listening?” the Metatron asked, one brow raised questioningly.
“Oh, yes. Of course!” he replied, slipping on a grin he hoped didn’t betray the truth.
“Well, I can’t think of a better angel to wrap things up,” the slightly shorter man replied, straightening out the lapel of his jacket, “and to set into motion the next step in the great plan.”
Aziraphale paused as they reached the other side of the crossing, where the elevator to Heaven awaited behind the unassuming doors of the Dirty Donkey, “Um, yes. You mentioned that. Can I know what it is?”
“Well, it’s something we need an angel of your talents to direct. An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth.” the Metatron nodded, looking back up at Aziraphale.
“Ah.” Maybe there was a silver lining to all this. Maybe after everything, Heaven would finally be working to understand humanity a little better.
“Tell me, Aziraphale. What do you recall about the universe beyond this solar system?”
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SOHO, LONDON; SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE LANDING OF THE ARCLIGHT PROBE
Crowley sauntered into the bookshop, the jingling of the shopkeeper’s bell hung above its large wooden doors announcing his arrival to its only– and incredibly chipper– other current inhabitant.
“‘Ello, ‘ello, Mr. Crowley!” they beamed, peeking out from behind a bookshelf and waving enthusiastically.
He sighed, walking over to the ornate chair by the window and picking up a feather duster laying on its velvet seat cushion. Once upon a time, when the A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop remained open, the windows would have welcomed warm rays of sunlight into the cozy interior of the shop and offered a clear view across the bustling street to the local coffee shop. Today, the blinds remained perpetually closed, shutting out the outside world.
“How was your drive?” Muriel asked, flipping through the pages of a copy of The Odyssey before neatly slotting it into a vacant spot on the shelf.
“Boring. Not much new to see around here.” Crowley shrugged, sweeping the duster across the antique mahogany desk in front of him. He made a mental note of the empty angel wing mug on the table. Sure, there’d be no one really there to actually drink the warm cocoa when it’d be refilled (though Muriel would, after a couple of hours when they’d thought that Crowley hadn’t noticed). Still, he’d made a habit of making a cup of cocoa for the mug every day, with just the right amount of sugar and milk, just in case. In case of what, Crowley? Not like he’s coming back.
“I don’t suppose you’ve something more interesting to do?” he said, opening a drawer and flicking at a particularly stubborn cobweb in the corner.
“I’m reorganizing the books!” they replied, reaching for another book, “I’d thought they were completely out of order, but then I realized that they’d been sorted alphabetically by the first letter of their first sentences! I thought it would be more practical to sort by title, though. It’s much easier to find at first glance.”
“Marvelous. Dunno why you’re still here.” he grumbled. Any other person would have noted the sarcasm in his voice, and– if they were observant enough– noticed the roll of his eyes behind his sunglasses. However, Muriel, ever optimistic and equally spirited, glossed right over this.
“Of course I am! The Metatron entrusted me to-”
Crowley groaned, which instantly stopped the angel in their tracks. Of course, go ahead and bring the Metatron up again, why don’t you? Not that it’s your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it’d be him. Him and his whole cohort of archangels and that stupid, stupid idiot Aziraphale wrapped around his finger. Or maybe it’d have been his own fault. His mistake for springing up a love confession too suddenly and too soon on the one person he would never want to hurt.
“Oh.” they said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Crowley waved a hand to dismiss them before they could blame themselves further for something out of their control. “‘S fine. You keep on with that, then.” he sighed, dropping the feather duster. Probably best to leave the room before he ended up saying something he’d regret again.
“D’you know what? I could go for a coffee right now.” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the window facing the coffee shop, “You want anything, or…?”
They brightened up at the mention of food. “Yes, please! That would be lovely! Some of those little pastries that calm you down, if you would. Eeckles cakes?”
“Eccles cakes.” he repeated, stepping out of the bookshop once more.
Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death was typically a calm corner amidst the hustle and bustle of Whickber Street. Today, the shop was a little quieter than usual, with only three or so regulars seated near the door. The shopkeeper, Nina, was chatting away with Maggie as Crowley entered. The two of them together had become a regular sight at the shop, given how Maggie had decided to volunteer and help more and more frequently as of recent.
“The usual, then? Mr. Six Shots of Espresso In a Big Cup?” Nina said. Maggie gave him a small wave.
“Add some eccles cakes to go with that, if you will.”
Nina quirked an eyebrow. “Hm. That’s new. I thought pastries were more of Mr. Fe…” she started. Maggie gave her a nudge in the shoulder. “Well, not your thing.”
“Pbsh. They’re not for me, they’re for Muriel.” Crowley scoffed, looking away.
“Oh! The short one.” Maggie smiled, “You should bring them with you next time! I don’t see them around much outside of the bookshop.” She caught a glance of Nina, the two sharing a quick look of mutual concern for their friend.
“Alright. Eccles cakes and a cup of espresso. You can take a seat while I get that ready for you.” she sighed, reaching for the cupboard beneath the countertop.
Crowley nodded, opting for one of the more remote seats towards the back of the store. He tapped a finger against the table absentmindedly, eyes scanning the shop for anything interesting at all that could serve as a decent distraction. He settled for the newly installed television in the corner. He’d wound up a drunk mess at the coffee shop one afternoon after Aziraphale’s departure, and, though Crowley didn’t know for the life of him why, the two had let him stay until they were convinced he’d sobered up and listened to him air out the wreck of emotions that the angel had left behind. And so, he’d insisted on getting the shop something nice in return, which, as it turned out, was a plasma screen TV. As a bonus, Nina later found out that the lag on the tablet she used to process payments had mysteriously disappeared.
Currently, the channel on the telly was set to the news, chronicling the latest mortal troubles of the humans. Which, it seemed, was presently related to some sort of American space program. The footage flickered between interviews of various concerned citizens and field professionals alike, before switching back to the news presenter in the studio. The digital background behind her displayed what appeared to be hundreds of little black blobs under a microscope, accompanied by an image of the sun and a diagram linking it to Venus.
“... citizens are growing more concerned as experts warn that the rate by which the sun is dimming could increase significantly over the next 30 years. Many are wondering whether or not this is the beginning of an apocalyptic Ice Age.” she narrated as the diagram enlarged to focus on the sun and the red line linking it to Venus.
Crowley had tuned in just in time to hear the tail end of her speech. Namely, the part about the supposedly incoming apocalypse.
“What?” he murmured under his breath. Humans, believing that the end is nigh for the umpteenth time? Nuclear war? A false prophecy left by a drunk bastard from a few hundred years ago? What could it possibly be now? Whatever it was, it had never come close to what Heaven and Hell actually had planned (which, last time around, had involved a rather chaotic baby swap and an actual nuclear war). He tilted his head, letting his sunglasses slip just an inch down his nose so he could better read the flashing headlines on the screen:
CLIMATE DISASTER: ARCLIGHT PROBE DISCOVERS INTERSTELLAR MICRO-ORGANISM CAUSING EXPONENTIAL DIMMING OF THE SUN.
“Oh.” he said. And then he thought about it for a moment. Then, a little louder, “Oh. You’ve got. To be kidding me.”