Disclaimer: New disclaimer to go with the new season! Obviously, I don't own Good Omens or its characters, locations, etc., or else I wouldn't have let Neil Gaiman destroy my entire soul. I love the characters he and Terry Pratchett wrote, and I wouldn't change them for the world, except maybe to make them a bit smarter and more observant. But, alas, that's what fanfiction is for.

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Inside I'm Falling Apart

Chapter Two

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Crowley wasn't sure exactly where he was driving, just that it was away.

He had jumped in the Bentley and left as fast as possible, trying not to look back at the bookshop that had become more of a home for him over the last few decades than either Heaven or Hell had ever been, or the angel that felt even more like a home than the bookshop.

He wanted to be shocked that Aziraphale had left, but, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't. the angel had always been so convinced that Heaven could do real good if they tried, and he had always wanted to make a difference. Could Crowley really fault him for that? In fact, Crowley wished he had the same blind trust in Heaven that Aziraphale did. It would do wonders for his mental health if he could believe that Heaven truly wanted to make the world a better place.

But they didn't. Crowley knew better than anyone that Heaven was full of hypocritical, stuffy bastards who wanted nothing more than to end the world just because they thought it was the right thing to do. And he knew that they only thought that because they had never spent a significant amount of time on earth.

How could anyone want to destroy God's creations if they knew anything about them at all? He had been there for the start of creation, had built the skies with his own hands, and he hadn't even truly understood creation until he was assigned as Hell's liaison on earth.

Sure, humans could be awful, they could destroy each other at the drop of a hat for no other reason than greed. They could tear each other down and maim and kill and hate in ways that Crowley, a demon from Hell, could hardly comprehend. But they were also so beautiful. They created music and pastries and cars, they cared and loved and took care of one another and most of them hoped for a better world. If Heaven truly wanted to make a difference, they should try to fix what was broken instead of destroying everything and starting fresh. The humans deserved better.

Aziraphale could do it, Crowley knew he could. If the angel was truly in charge now, maybe he could convince the other angels that the proper thing to do, as the "good guys," would be to fix the world so the humans didn't have to fight each other to survive.

But would he do it? Aziraphale may have fought against Heaven to stop the Apocalypse, but he also believed that Heaven was fundamentally good. Crowley knew he was wrong, what he didn't know was how long it would take Aziraphale to realize it.

He also didn't know what would happen when Aziraphale realized that he had fucked up. Crowley had finally told the angel how he really felt, had even gone so far as to kiss him to try to convey all of the things that he couldn't say, and Aziraphale had thrown it back in his face and left. As if he was the one that needed to be forgiven.

Crowley was so, so hurt. He felt lost and betrayed in a way that he had never felt before, not even when he had been cast out of Heaven. How could Aziraphale do that? How could he think that Crowley would want to go back to the place that had abandoned him, tossed him into Hellfire, tried to destroy the world, and then, worst of all, tried very desperately to kill the only being in existence that he truly loved? He wasn't sure what could have possibly made Aziraphale think he would want to be an angel again, but he was certain that he had misinterpreted their relationship, and he loved Aziraphale a lot more than Aziraphale loved him. And that hurt more than the first flames of Hellfire that had grazed his face when he had landed in the depths of Hell.

Could he forgive Aziraphale? He wasn't sure anymore. He had forgiven Aziraphale for a lot of things over the years, been there for the angel in ways that he had never expected, but Aziraphale never seemed to return the favor. Sure, he did a few odd jobs for Crowley over the years, and he always let him hang out in the bookshop, and worked with him to stop the Apocalypse, but none of those things equaled the love that Crowley had shown him over their millennia together.

He loved Aziraphale more than anything, and he missed the angel more than words could describe. He had only left a few hours before, but it felt like lifetimes to Crowley. They had spent years apart before, but not since the Apocalypse, and it had never been as final as this felt.

Crowley was confident that Aziraphale would realize his mistake, one day, and he would come back to earth and try to find him. Did he want to be found? He wasn't sure if he could ever trust Aziraphale again after this. Forgiveness was a virtue that Crowley worked very hard to maintain, and he had always forgiven Aziraphale for anything and everything he had done. But this… abandoning him to go back to the one place he couldn't follow, offering to return him to angelic status when he should have known that that was the exact opposite of what Crowley would ever want… was it too much? Crowley wasn't sure.

He drove for days, getting as far away as possible from London or anywhere else that he had spent time with Aziraphale. He tried and failed not to think about the angel, and used up all his willpower to lock all his emotions away somewhere deep inside of him and throw away the key.

After a while, when he was in a country that he had never visited with Aziraphale, he stopped at a run down pub in a small town with only one street. He sat at the bar from open to close for several weeks, trying to drown out thoughts of the man he loved leaving him for an unachievable dream.