Okay, so here's the deal with the story I thought I'd never write: I consider Good Omens a masterpiece to which I couldn't possibly add on with my amateur writing. But not so long ago I learnt about this fan theory that not only Crowley was Raphael before the Fall, but also Crowley and Aziraphale were kind of one person, but don't remember it.
That idea just stuck with me, haha! I found it so plausible, because Neil Gaiman said that when he first started to write on Good Omens, there was only Crowley. Terry Pratchett made them two persons and added Aziraphale, so in a way, they really used to be one.
Anyway, here's my version of this idea that I just had to write down or I would've gone mad. I hope you'll enjoy it! Happy reading!
You Were An Angel Once
The bus ride back to the city took long but was uneventful.
Traffic was slow because of troubles on the M25. The cars have miraculously evaporated, but the roadside was still slippery from the fish that had rained down. The police were reluctantly removing their roadblocks, not knowing what they were supposed to block anymore.
People altogether seemed to be very confused about the fuss because no one knew what it was all about. Conversations in the bus were about as normal as on every other day, only no one seemed to remember what kind of day they just had.
Mostly, everyone blamed the strange weather.
In the back of the bus, an angel and a demon weren't talking at all. Both were still slightly on edge about the just barely avoided apocalypse. And none of the two knew what tomorrow would bring.
They reached Crowley's Mayfair flat late at night.
The interior was sleek, dark and cool, just like the demon himself. Aziraphale was thankful for the invite, but he missed his cosy, warm bookshop terribly.
"Right. Come in. Mi casa… eh… and so on." Crowley mumbled tiredly.
Aziraphale stepped further into the demon's home. Slowly, warily, as if one false step could make him burst into flames. He knew that Crowley would never do that to him, but who knew how close 'Up There' was still watching him.
"Oh, it's very nice." he said nervously to his friend.
"Ha." said Crowley. "You don't have to pretend. I know it's not your style."
"Well… no," admitted the angel. "But I wouldn't want to be ungrateful and it's definitely an improvement to how your quarters looked the last time I was here."
"Yeah, but that was the Seventies." shrugged Crowley nonchalantly. "Everything looked a bit weird in the Seventies."
The demon vanished into his spotless kitchen to fetch a bottle of red wine and two glasses. When he returned into the living area, he found Aziraphale closely inspecting a statue of two angels supposedly intertwined in a deadly fight.
Crowley stopped abruptly, swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat. "Ngk." he said.
"What an unusual statue you have here, my dear." said Aziraphale. "That wasn't here the last time I visited. What is it representing?"
Crowley swallowed again as Aziraphale turned with that innocent look on his face, waiting for an answer, and he quickly changed the subject. "Sso, I suppose you want to clean yourself up first. You look a little singed."
Aziraphale gave him a look, straightening his beloved coat. "You're one to talk." he said pointedly. "There's soot all over your face." Aziraphale looked down on himself, having to admit that he did look quite rumpled. "I guess I stood a bit too close when… well, S-Satan ought to be more careful when throwing all that hellfire around. There really was no need for that to get his point across."
The angel was mumbling quietly towards the end, tilting his head down. In the heavy, uncomfortable silence that followed both entities recapitulated the hell of a day they just had, worrying again what punishment was still waiting for them.
Finally, Crowley snapped out of it. "Bathroom's down there." he muttered, gesticulating with his hand.
The bathroom looked as pure and new as the rest of the flat. It was also much bigger than a standard bathroom needed to be. The tiles on the floor and the walls were gleaming in pearly black and the fixtures were all in the most brilliant white there could ever be. One wall of the room was covered by a large mirror and beneath it was a white marble bathroom sink, big enough for both of them to use at the same time.
Aziraphale hung his coat on a hanger, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles and inspecting it for any holes or tears. From the corner of his eye, he saw how Crowley slithered out of his own ruined jacket. He gave a distressed, little sound upon its state and threw it carelessly over the towel rack.
Then he finally took off his dark glasses and splashed his face with water. When he looked up again, their eyes met in the mirror. Cerulean met the intense, unblinking yellow stare of a snake.
Blushing, Aziraphale looked away, embarrassed that he'd been caught staring. What he didn't see was that Crowley averted his eyes equally quick. Not out of embarrassment, though. Shame maybe?
Aziraphale cleared his throat. "So… Agnes Nutter's last prophecy… 'When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wiseley, for soon enouff ye will be playing with Fyre.'" he recited from memory. "What do you think it means?"
"Don't know." muttered Crowley. "What does it matter now? The apocalypse is done. We survived." he said maybe a bit too harshly. A bit too obviously trying to convince himself and Aziraphale that this was all there is to the story. They've won and there wasn't anything unpleasant waiting for them in the near future.
Crowley shuddered almost unnoticeably. He knew he was kidding himself.
"I don't think it's that easy, dear." objected Aziraphale fussily. "It has to mean something to someone. Maybe even to us! I don't think it was a coincidence that this particular prophecy ended up in my hands. Agnes was too good a prophet for it to be a coincidence."
Crowley abruptly turned around to face him. His yellow eyes suddenly seemed more menacing than a few moments ago. "And what if it iss meant for uss?" he hissed impatiently. Fear was making him angry. "I don't have a bloody clue what it's ssupposed to mean! That'ss the whole point of a prophecy; you only get to find out what the crazy witch is talking about when it's already too late!"
The angel took a step back, surprised by Crowley's outburst. His bottom lip wobbled slightly and his face turned a shade paler. "I-I just thought… maybe… I thought you'd be interested in fighting against our certain demise." he whispered disheartened. "But I guess I was wrong." Aziraphale quickly turned around and fled the bathroom.
Crowley regretted his sharp words as soon as they'd left his mouth. Cursing himself, he called after his companion. "Angel. Wait…" But Aziraphale disappeared down the hallway and Crowley sighed and sheepishly trailed behind him.
He found the angel, looking very small on the luxurious, anthracite-grey sofa back in the living room, with his head in his hands. His shoulders shaking.
Guilt made Crowley's serpentine stomach twist. Without a sound, he crept over and sat next to him. "Angel." he said, softer this time, but his sudden closeness startled Aziraphale. He relaxed quickly but didn't remove his hands from his face to reveal that he was crying. He didn't have to; Crowley knew.
"Listen, angel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"I-I guess I understand," whispered Aziraphale. "You're already in Hell, how much worse can your punishment possibly be."
"Ngk," said Crowley. "You'd be surprised…"
Aziraphale didn't really listen. "But I… I'm an angel." he sobbed desperately. "At least f-for now I am." A shiver went through him and finally the worry got too much to bear it alone and he uncovered his face, showing Crowley his frightened, watery-blue eyes. "Do you think I will fall?" Aziraphale asked, his voice unable to rise above a whisper. Terrible fear constricted his throat.
Shocked, Crowley opened his mouth but, for once, the quick-witted demon found no words. What could he possibly say to console his angel? How should he know what God's ineffable plan is when Her favourite, spineless archangels didn't even know?
"Ah… err…" he stuttered. "Well, I told you before, it's not that bad once you get used to it." Crowley tried to joke. Aziraphale drew his brows together, hurt in his eyes, because he obviously wasn't taken seriously. He turned away, ready to get up and leave. "Wait." Crowley asked him once more. "You're… you're not gonna fall." he said firmly. "That would be really stupid of Her; you are the best one She has up there."
A bit of colour returned to Aziraphale's cheeks, but he didn't look at his friend yet. "Crowley." he said in a gentle warning tone upon the demon's chosen words to describe the Almighty.
"I mean it." he pledged sincerely and then paused heavily. If Crowley had a normal, beating human heart, it would be hammering right now. He wiggled a bit closer to Aziraphale. "And if She doesn't have your back… you know I will." He put a slightly trembling hand on Aziraphale's shoulder.
The angel tensed, turned and scooted away while looking wide-eyed at Crowley. "Don't." The word tumbled startled out of his mouth before he could calm his fluttering nerves. Now it was Crowley who looked hurt. Aziraphale tilted his head downwards, voice quiet once more. "I-I'm in enough trouble as it is. If my side finds out I'm even here-"
Pressing his lips together, decidedly, Crowley touched Aziraphale's shoulder once more. The angel didn't shy away this time. "You don't have a side anymore." he repeated his words from earlier. "We're on our own side and I will have your back. You can trust me. You know you can, because I know you'd look out for me, too… right?"
Aziraphale felt taken aback, but, deep down, he knew Crowley was speaking the truth. He had proven his unconditional friendship on multiple occasions over the millennia. Only Aziraphale had been too afraid to acknowledge that. Now he nodded to settle Crowley's rising insecurity, but his lips were trembling again and his eyes softened as a pearly tear escaped. "I'm scared, Crowley." he admitted and Aziraphale meant it in every way possible.
"I know." said Crowley, his hand absent-mindedly stroking up and down the angel's arm. "Me, too."
He was looking for a way to reassure Aziraphale. Something that would make him believe without a doubt that he could count on him. That Crowley would always be there, by his side, to fight Heaven, Hell and everything in between. He was thinking about how humans showed their affection and how they established their complete trust in one another.
And then Crowley leaned in for a tender kiss.
Aziraphale was too shocked to lean back. He didn't want to lean back.
As soon as the lips of angel and demon touched, something happened in their minds. Something big and ineffable. There was a blinding light, like an explosion in the innermost part of their souls. And when the light dimmed down, they could suddenly see further down into the past than both of them ever remembered…
Their mind was one and they could see a young angel with hair the colour of liquid copper mixed with gold and eyes as beautiful and warm as newborn stars.
His name was Raphael.
He was an archangel. Like Gabriel, Michael and Uriel. He was one of the oldest and wisest and also the most beautiful one, save for God's favourite, Samael.
Raphael was much loved by the younger angels because he was different from the other archangels. He wasn't thinking of himself as something better than the others. He was kind. He took care of the younger ones and listened when they spoke.
God assigned him to be a shaper of the universe. Raphael created stars, colourful nebulas and swirling galaxies. He loved his job, but it also guaranteed him quite a lonely existence, out there between all his silently glittering creations.
The other archangels avoided him. They'd always been jealous of his assignment, his beauty and the favour with which God obviously looked upon him.
One celestial night, God put the angel Raphael to sleep. And from his radiant, eternal soul, She took a small part to create a being that would be his like-minded companion. Maybe She didn't want him to be lonely.
When Raphael awoke, he felt different, but he couldn't say how so. He felt like some part of him was missing and, worried, he asked God about it.
But She only smiled upon him and wasn't saying anything.
The new God-created being wasn't finished yet. Hidden away from the other angels, it swirled around a pool of light that once was a piece of Raphael's soul and it grew brighter and began to have a discernible shape.
Raphael, however, was feeling strangely lost. Unsure how to cope with his distressing feeling of missing something, he started to ask the other angels questions about God. Questions about Her Great Plan. It wasn't something for angels to ask, let alone to expect an answer to. The archangels grew even more wary of Raphael. Especially Gabriel.
But Samael, the oldest, who was usually much too self-involved, began to take an interest in Raphael and the curious questions he asked.
It was Samael who led the Rebellion one day and he roped Raphael into his schemes. The small group of revolting angels was quickly defeated. Gabriel was leading a whole army of blindly obedient and loyal opponents.
The following punishment would forever be the hardest an angel ever had to fear, aside from getting discorporated and utterly destroyed.
Samael and his followers were cast out of Heaven for all eternity. No prospect of redemption. No chance of forgiveness. It all happened much quicker than Raphael could comprehend.
The Fall was long and painful.
All around him he could hear the screams and cries of his fellow revolters. They were helpless; they weren't able to do anything to brace the Fall.
Raphael's majestic, pure white wings burst into flames. They burned to make sure he couldn't ever return and Raphael cried in pain. His long, copper-golden hair changed to flaming red and his starlit eyes glazed over and became slitted and yellow.
And then, unabated, he landed somewhere dark and it smelled of misery and sulphur.
The poor, tortured soul that stood from the black, soot-covered ground didn't look much like the beautiful angel he once was. He glanced behind him to discover that his wings had finally stopped burning and were now the colour of blackish-grey ash.
He looked up once more, remembering…
And then, suddenly, he was someone else. A new identity covered the old that was now concealed from him until he'd remember once more.
Now, he was Crawley. A snake and a demon of this new eternal place called Hell. The angel that had once been Samael was known as Lucifer and he was his new boss. And Crawley feared him.
Up in Heaven, the being that had swirled around the pool of light until now, finally became aware of himself. He was given the name Aziraphale. It literally meant 'of Raphael', but no one understood why. There was no angel called Raphael. To everyone but God, Herself, there never has been. No one quite remembered who the Fallen once were.
The new angel was a happy, dutiful being. He didn't really manage to fit in with the other angels, so they mostly gave him jobs that weren't particularly important. Nevertheless, Aziraphale saw to them with care. Being meticulous distracted him from the fact that he was lonely.
He was missing something. He just didn't know what it was…
They came back to reality.
Angel and demon opened their eyes with a start. Strong wind swirled around them.
Crowley and Aziraphale stood opposite each other in the middle of Crowley's living room. How they got there from the sofa, they didn't know. Their eyes were widened in fear. Shock. Recognition. So much more that couldn't possibly be put into words.
Their wings had materialised unintentionally. They hadn't been ready for them to grow out, so, not focusing properly, they'd ripped their clothes apart. Strips of black and white fabric hung loosely from their chests.
For the first time since very long ago, they saw each other in their true form.
Black reptilian scales rippled beneath Crowley's skin while the skin of Aziraphale was so fair it seemed almost see-through, but behind it was only even more light. Their respectively black and white wings loomed huge and impressively behind them.
For the first time ever, they realized who they truly were.
Crowley had started crying at some point when he was still caught up in forgotten memories. Tears as red as his flaming hair rolled ceaselessly down his cheeks. He couldn't stop, he couldn't speak. Sobs sounded like he was hissing.
Aziraphale was still in shock, unmoving. But then he finally opened his mouth and breathlessly he whispered, "I-I'm of y-you." The realization caused him to break out in tears, too.
It was their own moment of divine revelation.
Suddenly, it was all clear. Why they seemed to be drawn to each other since the very beginning in the garden of Eden. Why they didn't seem to be able to fit in with their respective crowd of angels and demons.
They knew everything now. And they weren't afraid of heavenly or hellish consequences any longer, because they were more than just opposite sides of a celestial coin. They were one; they always had been and they knew what to do.
Flapping their powerful wings just once, the snake and the being of pure light collided in a fierce, tight hug. Intertwining. All-consuming. Ever-loving.
They had found what was missing.
Shielded by their wings, shielded from the mortal world and all supernatural eyes, they united and became one. At last, one again.
Their wings gradually seemed to change colour. What was white turned to ash-black and what was black became pearly-white.
Dawn was breaking. It was the very first day of the rest of their lives.
Angel and demon rested, entwined with each other, on a round, red carpet in the middle of the room. Who was which entity no one could tell with certainty.
And it didn't matter at all, because they were one.
They had chosen their faces wisely and they were ready to face their punishment.
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my story, please leave me a review! :)
