He bolted right back into the shop. Something was very wrong. Of course, his first course of action was to ring Crowley and tell him all about it. The sort of evil which now spread through London's air, like Pestilence had done in days of old, was definitely Hell's work. It needed to be thwarted at once.

There was no reply on any of the demon's devices. In his panicked state of mind, Aziraphale didn't once ask himself why Crowley had not tried to contact him at all.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. In his mind, he tried to find him. They had always been able to locate each other, except for when Aziraphale got discorporated. Not being able to find his angel, had devastated him.

Sure enough, he could feel Crowley. At least nothing had happened to him- yet. He seemed to be home. Why wasn't he picking up?

By the time he reached Mayfair, Aziraphale felt sick with worry. The city had changed for the worst in just a few days.

As he frantically abused the demon's expensive doorbell, a thought popped into his mind: What if Crowley had been right, and this was Hell's declaration of war on humanity? If he was right, what would heaven do?

•••

To Aziraphale's great surprise, he did open the door as nonchalantly as ever, though something wasn't right. It was the middle of the day, and Crowley was not wearing his sunglasses. Surely he couldn't have known who was at the door, could he?

"Crowley! Finally! I am so glad to see you! Are you alright?"

The demon eyed him up and down.

"Just fine, thanks."

"Oh what a relief! Something's very wrong. I need to come in."

Crowley hesitated but stepped aside.

"You've got to keep it short, angel. I'm waiting for someone."

"Waiting? On whom?"

"A friend."

"Why didn't you pick up the telephone? I've been calling you over and over!"

"I told you, I'm waiting for someone."

"But this is important! Surely you've heard my voicemails!"

A frown. "Poor angel doesn't feel loved, and suddenly the world is ending all over again." Crowley was mocking him by using The Voice. It was something he did occasionally. Much to the angel's dismay, he had used it enough throughout the centuries, it justified the use of capital letters, not unlike The Agreement.

The pit in Aziraphale's stomach grew turned into a black hole.

"Crowley...what has happened to you...?"

"What do you mean happened?" the demon snapped. His eyes sparkled dangerously. It was now Aziraphale realised he was no longer hiding at all. His yellow irises filled his eyes entirely, as if he were in Hell.

The angel hadn't been afraid very often in his life, but this sight made him understand what his poor houseplants went through.

"I mean why are you behaving like this?!" Asiraphale was desperate; his tone pleading. "You're acting like...like...like a DEMON!"

"That's because it's what I am!" Crowley was yelling. There was no other word for it.

"I'm a bloody demon! It's what I've always been and always will be! Your enemy with a convenient agreement! I'm from the other side! I'm fallen! That's what I am and that's why I am like this! Give me one reason why I should keep pretending to be NICE!"

"Because you're my friend!! I like you, Crowley!" Aziraphale also shouted, but out of despair, rather than anger. His voice cracked.

"What does it matter?! I've been trying to tell you for 6000 years! I tried to save you from the end of the world! Yet you barely manage to call me a friend! I loved you, Aziraphale! But none of it matters now because now it's me who doesn't need YOU anymore! So you can go to Heaven for all I care!"

A second passed before the angel managed to even open his mouth. He closed it again. And opened it. His brain had switched to auto pilot. "Fine!" he cried at last.

"Because I don't need you either! I am in love! With another angel! So...so...goodbye!"

He expected Crowley to say something. Like last time, when he had said "have a nice doomsday", but he didn't.

He just glared at him through his slit-shaped pupils, his chest heaving with rage. Aziraphale could hear his broken heart beat fast. Like a disease it infected him, and spread through his body. His heart's metaphorical paint began to chip, but it didn't break. It caused pain, and, for the moment, made him feel like it had broken too, but he was an angel. His heart was indestructible. Especially when he set out to love someone like he loved Crowley.

Aziraphale turned around and walked towards the door, but stopped on his way out. He turned around to look at the demon. "I forgive you..."