The nights were still full of tales of the infamously powerful Crowley. He was a constant source of contention between Heaven and Hell, with both wanting to get rid of him in their own unique way. The Hellish forces were far more brutal in their tactics, while Heaven had Aziraphale, the Supreme Archangel, to use more subtlety. Despite their differences, they all wanted the same result – for Crowley to be eliminated from existence. Yet it seemed like there were always more angels than demons intervening when humans made wrong decisions, as if Aziraphale had commanded them to be present wherever anyone might stray from the right path.
Prior to Aziraphale's departure, Crowley felt caught in an odd equilibrium. His body was unable to generate the hormones it usually used to take pleasure in life, like dopamine and testosterone, yet he still hadn't completely connected to his basic reptilian brain. Instead, his mind had a sophisticated subconscious that taught him how to enjoy life—in other words, to partake in activities such as drinking, eating, having sex, and acting like the happiest being on earth.
He had prepared to spend the night in his Bentley, relying on the 64th bottle of whiskey for comfort. He refused to have anything to do with champagne... But as morning arrived and he looked at the bottle, he suddenly wondered what was the point? The bottles from the night before didn't count—they were empty promises. He wanted a more fulfilling answer, but could he find it if all he did was lay down?
He heard a gentle tapping on the window, and when he looked up he saw a woman wearing expensive grey clothes. He thought it was Shax at first, but then realized it was just a figment of his imagination.
"Crowley" said the woman. "I would really appreciate it if you get out of the car and come with me"
He rolled the window down and looked through the glass. The smile melted from his face "Sorry honey, I didn't know we were having a date".
He walked out of the car, but in a second the woman took him by the hand and they appeared on a penthouse in the center of London. He almost trow up we he inhaled the clean air and scented with the aroma of hot waffles and maple syrup. Crowley watched as the woman, wearing glasses and her blonde hair neatly coiffed, selected plates and silverware. The gray wool pencil skirt she wore was conservative but beautifully cut to show off her figure. The black silk shirt she had on showed just enough cleavage to be feminine without being provocative. She could have been a professor at a college.
She set the table and stood in front of him, placing her hands on her forehead making a flashlight. "Thanks, I was just trying to make it more private," she said with a smile.
"Private? What for?" Crowley asked, taking off his glasses. Her eyes had an unmistakable gold hue, marking her as one of the angels.
"Well, I let you be angry," she said, "you drank and smoked and ate all of it, and now it's time to help Aziraphale." She handed him the bottle of whiskey, drained except for a dreg at the bottom. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it because you aren't going to convince me."
Crowley's eyes narrowed in surprise as he took the bottle of drink from his hand. "How is it that you let me?" He questioned, searching for an explanation.
"He may be like your boss but I'm just a demon and I don't care what happens to him or to you , so thank you for the ride." Crowley raised his hand as if to reach out to her, but nothing happened.
The woman settled herself on the white table, holding a cup of coffee. "You can leave by either the elevator or the stairs," she said. "But watch out—Michael might follow me, so be prepared for any surprise appearances."
Crowley looked around, confused. "The stairs?" he asked, glancing up at the steps in front of him. "Who are you? I don't remember seeing you before."
"I apologize for not having had the opportunity to meet up those days," she said, pouring syrup over her waffles. "My name is Raziel."
Crowley squinted and leaned forward in his chair, his eyes like bullet holes behind the lenses of his glasses. "The keeper of God's secrets," he said in a raspy voice, "don't you have some work to do? Up there hearing God's latest news and telling them what they have to do."
Raziel put a plate in front of Crowley. "No, actually that's one of the advantages of being a guardian: you don't have to go to the office and believe me, Metraton thinks he knows more than me about how she wants to run things."
"She?" asked Crowley eating the waffle.
She took a sip of her coffee before stating, "God, so we need to figure out a way to get Aziraphael out of there quickly."
"How did you find out about that?" he questioned.
"He told me," she replied.
"Aren't you supposed to keep it a secret?" He said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.
"Come on," Raziel said, waving a piece of waffle. "If you think that you and him love each other, it's a secret then you have a problem." She pointed at him with the fork. "You think he left you without supervision and drown himself in his job?"
Crowley remained still and quiet, struggling between knowing the truth and pretending he didn't understand. He was uncertain of how to move forward, but a small part of him hoped that if he stayed in silence, the truth would stay hidden.
Raziel uttered, "He asked me to watch over you, and obviously I agreed. But now it's time to stop with the whole 'I don't need you angel' bit." She did her best to imitate Crowley's voice.
Rage bubbled up through his veins like a raging inferno as he glared at the other. "How do you look after me?!" His words roared out like thunder as he thought of all the times angels and demons had attacked him, yet the other had done nothing. He demanded an answer with raw anger that seethed in every syllable. "Do you really think you did your job?"
Crowley felt a chill run through him as the woman spoke. "I take care of you, I protect you from being thrown away or destroyed in this world," she declared, picking up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen. "Babysitting is more suitable for you than me; I had to handle major issues, you know how to brush your teeth." Her words lingered in his mind like an impenetrable fortress.
Crowley tipped the bottle up and drank, then he walked to the door, but before going outside Raziel spoke. "I would not force you to do this Crowley, I'm just giving you the opportunity to let go of your anger and see if you can talk with him without being an angel and a demon, as equals."
The man's voice was cold and cutting as he spoke, disdain dripping from his words. "I know this is a tramp, and I will not be tricked into helping him! I already had the audacity to speak with him," he spat in rage, his fingers clenching painfully around the bottle in his hand.
He strode through the pearly gates, and as soon as he saw Aziraphale, his old friend's eyes lit up. His lips curled into a half-smile and he quirked an eyebrow, saying with mock surprise, "I knew you'd eventually come around!"
The angel was almost gaunt compared to when they had last met, an aura of heavenly light radiating from his figure that nearly seared the eyes of felt a burning sensation in his chest that he couldn't explain as he gazed upon the angel's figure, and for a moment he thought it might be too much to bear.
He jumped from foot to foot, going back and forth between the holly ground beneath him."Come on angel, you don't really think I came here for that," he said trying to laugh. His voice was gentle yet firm, and despite his soothing words, he could sense a wave of frustration in his tone. "I came here to help you. On Hell they said it wasn't good, whatever "it" was."
"It's a wonderful time to be alive," Aziraphale said, and he smiled broadly. "It couldn't be better. I've arranged all sorts of unnatural events: plagues, global warming—no wireless access for a decade here or there, and we're finishing up the last touches on the UFO appearance schedule. It will all work out beautifully."
Aziraphale stiffened as Crowley took his hand, the fear apparent in his devil eyes without the glasses to hide them. "How can you say that when all of this is happening? Yes, you almost eliminated Hell itself, but you're doing their job better than them! People didn't ask for a miracle because all of these problems literally have no solution; they have no hope and there are no good guys and bad guys, not even Jesus wanted to make too much noise down there."
He flashed a wide, confident smile and said, "Everything is coming together nicely. I'm almost done with my work – Jesus just have to make a few appearances here and there, but that's about it." He waved his hand as if dismissing the topic.
Crowley bellowed with rage and jerked Aziraphale's jacket, pinning him against the wall. "What happened to you?! Where is that angel who used to revel in all of Earth's treats - from magic shows to sushi and champagne at the Ritz? You look like some broken-down salesman trying to sell his stuff in Heaven!"
His heart raced as his skin ignited with desire, craving to be near Aziraphale and consume him in that moment. Despite his inner turmoil, Crowley couldn't resist his body's aching need.
Crowley's thoughts were abruptly broken by Raziel's unexpected announcement, as if Metatron had joined them in the office. "That was when Metatron cut in."
Crowley opened his mouth to ask the question "You can hear my thoughts, can't you?"
"I don't read minds, but I can figure out secrets," she said. The demon wasn't sure what she meant, but he knew it was something important. "I'll explain in more detail another time, but right now I have to go and report back to Aziraphale. You can stay here; it's a safe place and no one from up or downtown will be able to find you. You should take a few minutes to tend to the plants."
Raziel arranged the Crowley plants with precise detail, creating a terrace that was a tapestry of vibrant greens. With a flick of her wrist she took her coat and transformed it into a snow white angelic garment, remarking to herself "I always forget about the glasses". Tossing them carelessly aside, her eyes then glowed with a passion unparalleled, the golden hue radiating from her gaze almost mimicking the halo of an angel.
In the second that Crowley followed her, he walked end over end like some crazy top. Crowley followed her with the sight and when she grabed a box of croissants of the Merryl Street, he definitley reconigzed them he took a bottle of water "He doesnt like the ones with pistacho, only the chocolate".
Raziel smiled, grabbed two croissants, and placed them on a plate. "Go ahead," she said. Images of the last time he and Aziraphale bought a box of croissants flashed through his mind, and he nodded his head in agreement. He needed to regain sobriety quickly.
The woman left the keys next to the croissant and closed the door. She took the elevator and marked the big H on the control panel. If Heaven had felt like a lonely place before, now it looked like La Fontana di Trevi on summer. After slipping down to security she arrived to floor 27, there Aziraphale was reading a book, his hair was shorter and not messy, he was wearing a clean white suit and his wings were open.
His face lit up when he saw her, and the whole room seemed to buzz with a certain energy. "I have a secret to tell you" he declared, and she mirrored his movements from earlier in the luxurious apartment. A blinding light flooded the space, encasing them in aura.