Disclaimer: Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.
Summary: It's been forty-six years since the events in chapter two. Aziraphale gets some bad news and cannot contain his grief and sorrow for everything that happened during the Apocalypse. Crowley reminds him that it is okay for him to be sad.
A/N: Since I really focused this story on Crowley's depression, I wanted to round it out with a chapter about how it is alright for Aziraphale to be sad too. Some people don't want to show it, or feel as if their feelings aren't important because they love someone with depression. But everyone has the right to be sad.
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Sadness
Chapter 3
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Crowley has slowly been getting better since his conversation with Aziraphale forty-five years ago. He's been having less frequent nightmares, and he doesn't always feel overwhelmed by his feelings. He spends less time asleep, and more time really appreciating all of the good things he had in his life, namely Aziraphale.
Not that Crowley hadn't appreciated Aziraphale before. But his depression had clouded the angel's love for him. Crowley had always seen himself as a burden, especially since the realization that he had mental illnesses. He knew that Aziraphale loved him, but he was never sure how long that would last. His depression wouldn't let him see past the inevitable day that his angel realized that he was just too much.
But, that day never came. Aziraphale was by his side through every good day and every bad. He had never waivered in his unending love for Crowley. And, slowly, Crowley began to believe that Aziraphale's love really was unending. He slowly got better.
Crowley was currently napping in the bed that he (very rarely) shared with Aziraphale – he had wanted a very good, very long, uninterrupted nap. Possibly for a few weeks. He'd recently had a bad few years; a lot of naps that ended with him being startled awake by his dreams. He could hardly sleep for a day before he was woken by flashbacks to the Apocalypse, where everything almost ended, or the bookshop burning down, where everything had ended. If only for a few hours.
But, as always, Aziraphale had helped him through it, holding him as he cried and listening to him describe the same dream over and over again. He had been the rock that Crowley clung to as he was being swept away by a tidal wave. And now, he really felt as if he could sleep without any nightmares. So, he had bid his love adieu, climbed under the silk sheets, and passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow.
Crowley truly felt okay, for the first time in a very long time, which was why he was so startled when he woke up only three days later. When he first woke up, he couldn't place why he was startled awake so suddenly. He had not had a nightmare, there was no one in the bedroom, he could not sense anybody in the shop except for Aziraphale…
Aziraphale. Crowley was sensing very strong, very painful waves of emotion coming from his angel. Unsure what could possibly cause such a strong reaction from Aziraphale, Crowley slipped out of bed and softly padded down the stairs, making his way into the back room of the shop.
"Angel?" he asked softly, as he pushed aside the curtain that separated the room from the rest of the shop. Aziraphale was sitting on the couch, hunched over, with his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking.
"I'm sorry, Crowley, I didn't mean to wake you." Aziraphale's voice cracked as Crowley sat down next to him.
"You didn't. Well, not in the traditional sense. I sensed the pain radiating off you." He ran a hand across Aziraphale's back and down his arm. "What's wrong, my love?" Crowley whispered.
"I just got a phone call from Adam Young's wife. He passed away a few hours ago." Aziraphale rasped.
Crowley sighed. "I'm sorry, Aziraphale. I know how much he meant to you." He gently tugged the angel into his chest. He wrapped one arm around Aziraphale's back, resting the other atop Aziraphale's hand, which was resting on his own, black-clad chest.
Aziraphale sniffed. "It's not just that he's gone, it's…" Aziraphale choked on his next words, silently crying into Crowley's chest. The demon stayed silent, rubbing circles into his angel's back. He had every intention of sitting in that position for the rest of the century, if it meant comforting Aziraphale.
After a few minutes, the angel choked out the rest of his sentence. "We're the only ones left, Crowley." He whispered.
"We're the only ones left… of what?" Crowley responded, still rubbing Aziraphale's back.
"We are the only beings left on Earth who know what happened during the Apocalypse. We're the only ones who know that Heaven was willing to use an eleven-year-old boy to end the world. People spend so much time praying – to God, to the angels, to anyone they think will listen. They have no idea that the agents of Heaven are so… cruel. Angels, and the Almightly, for that matter, are nothing like humans think they are. And the two of us are the only ones left who know that." Aziraphale paused. "And I'm one of them. I may be separated from Heaven, but I will always be an angel. How is that something that I was ever proud of?" Aziraphale sat up from Crowley's chest, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Crowley, I shouldn't be burdening you with this. Not when you're getting better…."
Crowley cut him off. "Aziraphale, never apologize to me for being sad. Just because I have depression, doesn't mean that you cannot feel depressed. Everyone has the right to be sad. Look at me, Aziraphale." Crowley sat up and gently grabbed the angel's chin, turning his face so they were making eye contact. "I love you. That love is not dependent on your mood, and does not go away with your happiness. I am not the only person in this relationship who is important, and whose feelings matter, angel. You are not a burden to me." Crowley reached up and brushed a tear off Aziraphale's cheek.
"I just cannot wrap my mind around why Heaven wanted to end the world. They were willing to destroy so much – people, books, food, music, cars, shops… there is so much culture, so much history, all crammed into this tiny, young planet. And the angels, the good guys, were willing to destroy all of it just because the Great Plan said so. What gives them the right to make such a decision? Who said that they could destroy everything? I guess nobody will every know." Aziraphale sniffed.
"I don't know what made them think they had the right to destroy everything, Aziraphale, but I do know this: we may be the only being left on Earth who truly know about the Apocalypse, but we are also immortal, my love. We will carry that torch with us until the end of the universe. The humans may not know about that day, but we will remember every moment. We will carry that pain until every human is gone, and every star has died. The cruelty of Heaven and Hell will never be forgotten, I can promise you that." Crowley paused, gently kissing Aziraphale's forehead.
"The fact remains that I was one of them, Crowley. I believed in the Great Plan. I believed that the Apocalypse had to happen, in order to defeat the Forces of Evil and make the world a holy place once again. I believed them for six thousand years, dear. I brushed you off every time you explained to me that they were cruel, every time you said that they could not be trusted. I believed in Heaven until the last possible second. If I had listened to you sooner, all of that pain could have been prevented." Aziraphale cried.
"Heaven was your home, my love. You may have loved Earth, you may have even loved me, but you came from Heaven. You lived in Heaven since the beginning of time. The angels were your family, in a time before you truly understood what family was. Anyone who understands anything about toxic families would understand why you trusted them until you could not anymore. And I understand more about toxic families than anyone else probably does. I never faulted you for trusting them, Aziraphale. I may have found it a bit annoying, and I may have wondered exactly how naïve you were, but I understood. I trusted Heaven with everything in me, until I couldn't anymore. You are not to blame, my love." Crowley leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's.
"Anyway, you should be proud to be an angel, Aziraphale. Do you know why?" he whispered.
Aziraphale shook his head.
"You should be proud to be an angel, because you are the angel that the humans pray to. Aziraphale, you defined the world's definition of the word 'angel.' You are the being that the humans modeled their beliefs after. The rest of the angels may be horrible, but you are not. When the humans pray, they are praying to you. That is something to be proud of." Crowley brushed a stray curl back from Aziraphale's forehead. "I am so proud of you, Aziraphale. I am so proud of the being that you are. I am so proud of the things you have done. I am so proud to know you, so amazed that I have been allowed to love you for as long as I have. And I am so grateful that you love me in return. I love you more than anything, angel, in this world or any other. That is something that Heaven can never take away." Crowley leaned forward and gently kissed Aziraphale. "You are everything to me." He whispered.
"You're everything to me as well, Crowley. You have been there for me in ways that Heaven never has, and never could. I am so, so, so lucky that you love me. You made me see that Heaven was wrong. You were there for me even when I wasn't there for you. You and I saved the world. Nothing can compare to that." Aziraphale kissed Crowley, lingering for a very long moment. "Nothing will ever be able to take away the pain from the Apocalypse, or the pain of losing nearly everything that I have ever known. But I did not lose the one thing that mattered the most to me. You're right here." Aziraphale smiled, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Crowley's ear. "You are the most important thing in my life, Crowley. I could not survive without you by my side. You have been with me every step of the way, and I cannot even begin to put my feelings for you into words. Love is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel for you, Crowley, but it will have to do. I love you." He paused. "Thank you, dearest." He breathed.
Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale again. "Anytime, my love."