Heaven's offices were blindingly bright. It should have been a moment of triumph for Aziraphale, but…
No, no. Archangel Aziraphale now. He reminded himself.
…but the void left by Crowley's absence gnawed at his heart like an unrelenting ache. Memories of the bond they had forged over millennia flooded his mind, alternating between bringing him joy and pulling him down into sorrow.
What good is it doing me to dwelling on that Demon? Aziraphale bristled at the thought of Crowley. Was Crowley so contemptuous in his delusion that he thought he could take precedent over changing Heaven? Still, best not to. There's plenty of work at hand.
Indeed, Metatron had yet to invite Aziraphale up to any meetings to discuss The Second Coming, or any of Heaven's more secretive plans. It turned out, that in Gabriel's absence, a few earth-years of files had gone un-stamped, un-mailed, and un-seen to. Those files sat in stacks surrounding Aziraphale, some of them meters high over him. Between the white paper, the white desk, the white walls, floors, and windows, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel disillusioned. The tasks assigned to him were mundane and uninspiring, far from the adventures he had relished with Crowley on Earth. Heaven's bureaucratic system, with its endless protocols, only fuelled his frustration.
"Oh Crowley, how much more fun I'd be having with you there my by side." Loneliness enveloped Aziraphale, and he yearned for the familiar presence of the demon. He missed Crowley's clever quips, his sly grins, and the companionship they had shared. The weight of Crowley's absence bore down on him like a heavy burden, and he found himself constantly lost in thoughts of their last encounter.
He felt hurt and angry that Crowley had let him go alone, as if their bond meant nothing. But beneath that anger, there lingered a profound longing for his demon companion, a desire to see Crowley's face again, to hear his voice, to be by his side.
"Now, now what would Crowley say if he were there in Heaven with me?" Aziraphale sought comfort in his imagination; Oh, come on, Angel! Let's put a bit of mischief into these reports. Make 'em interesting, add a few surprises for those stuffy celestial bureaucrats. I bet they've never seen paperwork like this before! And remember, if they give you a hard time, just flash them one of your charming smiles. Works like a charm, every time!
Hm no, he didn't want to mess up good paperwork.
What about, Oh, Aziraphale, my dear, don't let all this paperwork get you down. Think of it as a chance to bring a touch of elegance to Heaven's bureaucracy? Make those reports the most beautifully written and organised ones they've ever seen. Who knows, maybe they'll even promote you to head archivist! And hey, if you need a break from all this heavenly responsibility, you know where to find me. I'll bring the wine and a bit of mischief to lighten the mood!
Maybe that was something good old Crowley would say? Maybe a break would do him some good? Although, it is a shame that there's no wine in Heaven.
Aziraphale stood from his desk and his papers, and had to refrain from dusting himself off as he rose – there was after all no dust in heaven. He settled for patting his new shiny jacket down instead. It was rather an over-starched thing, he thought, too sharp, and it pinched across his stomach in an uncomfortable way. The trousers were a similar affair, grey, shiny, stiff. He felt like he was wrapped up in tin foil.
As he left his office his trousers somewhat hindered his stride, "Blast! They might as well have me bound and gagged!", Now, now, Angel, look at you all tied up in heavenly bureaucracy. Trousers giving you a spot of bother, are they? Aziraphale could practically see the smirk on Crowley's face. He knew him far too well.
In an effort to out-walk his discomfort, Aziraphale began to pace the stark halls of Heaven, his heart remained heavy with emotions, but there was some solace in his What Would Crowley Do, styled imaginings.
"Ah, Aziraphale!" A commanding voice came from a flock of angels in a distant corner of the floor, "I see you've made it, and to the esteemed order of Archangel no less."
"Thank you, Archangel Michael." Aziraphale nodded politely, hurrying over to where they beckoned him, trying to hide his emotions with a tight lipped grimace, "It's an honour to be there."
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly, as if they could sense his languishing. "I'm surprised, you've come highly recommended by Metatron… We'll be expecting great things from you here."
Aziraphale forced a smile. "I shall do my best to live up to your expectations, Archangel."
One of Michael's colleagues, an angel in a brightly bleached suit, chimed in, "So, you're the one who used to consort with the demon Crowley, right? Quite the odd pairing, I must say."
Aziraphale bristled at the mention of Crowley, but he maintained his composure. "Yes, that's correct. We had our differences, but we also worked together to prevent the apocalypse."
A further angel, in white loafers and a pearlescent blazer, added, "It's rather curious how you managed to form a bond with a demon. Heaven and Hell are supposed to be mortal enemies, after all."
Aziraphale's frustration bubbled up, and he replied, "Well, we discovered that there's more to beings than just their labels. Crowley and I found common ground and realised that we both cared about humanity."
Archangel Michael raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued. "Interesting. Your experiences on Earth must have been quite enlightening."
Aziraphale nodded, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from Crowley. "Indeed, I've seen the beauty and complexity of humanity, and I hope to use that understanding to serve Heaven better."
As he spoke, Aziraphale felt a pang of guilt. He wasn't being entirely truthful, and he knew that in his heart he longed understand what had happened between them and to possibly rekindle their connection – that simply could not be his first priority however.
Archangel Michael studied him for a moment, their piercing gaze seeming to see through his facade. "Very well, no doubt you will serve us well Aziraphale. Nevertheless, I hear you've got a few years worth of natural disasters to approve since Gabe left, that might give you a chance to prove yourself."
With that, they turned to address they colleagues, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to discreetly withdraw from the conversation. The encounter left him feeling more isolated, and the longing for Crowley grew stronger within him. It was all very well imagining him there, his witty quips and wry smiles, but it was no substitute for the real thing.
As he continued his journey through Heaven, Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder if the other angels would ever understand the depth of his connection with Crowley. He knew that their bond transcended the boundaries of Heaven and Hell, but convincing the celestial beings of that truth would be a challenge he was yet to face.
Amidst the endless space, Aziraphale's thoughts kept drifting back to the cozy bookshop he had left behind on Earth. He hatched a plan, a small rebellion against the drudgery of his new role. In a quiet corner of Heaven, Aziraphale found a discreet alcove from which he could make a celestial call to his beloved bookshop on Earth. He summoned the antique rotary phone, its golden receiver gleaming with otherworldly light. Taking a deep breath, he dialled the familiar number.
Back on Earth, the phone rang in the cozy bookshop, and Muriel, the sweet and naive angel in charge, hurried to answer. They picked up the receiver, their eyes widening in surprise when they heard his voice,
"Hello, dear Muriel."
"Hello? Is that... Aziraphale?" Muriel asked, their voice tinged with excitement and curiosity.
"Ah, yes, Muriel, my dear," Aziraphale replied warmly. "It's me. I hope you're managing well in the bookshop?"
"Oh, yes, I am! It's been quite an adventure, but Maggie and Nina have been a great help," Muriel said cheerfully.
"I'm glad to hear that. Now, my dear, I have a rather important task for you," A hint of urgency creeping into Aziraphale's voice. "I need you to find Crowley. I fear he's gone missing, and I'm deeply worried about him."
Muriel's tone turned serious, and they gulped. "Of course, Aziraphale. I'll do my best to find him. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"
Aziraphale paused, his heart heavy with concern. "I'm afraid I don't, Muriel. But knowing Crowley, he might have retreated to someplace familiar, somewhere that holds significance to him."
Muriel nodded again, they determination evident. "Alright, I'll start my search. I'd already checked his flat, but I'll expand my investigation to other places he's been linked to."
"Thank you, Muriel. You're a dear," Aziraphale said gratefully. "Please, be careful. Heaven may be watching closely, and we wouldn't want you to get into any trouble."
Muriel' voice lifted sweetly. "Don't worry, Aziraphale. I'll be cautious. And I promise I won't stop until I find Crowley."
Aziraphale's heart swelled with gratitude for Muriel's willingness to help. "Thank you, my dear. Your assistance means a great deal to me."
"Oh Wait Aziraphale, before you go, you can't come down and help me can you, now you're an Archangel?"
"I'm afraid not my dear, there's a backlog of work, I don't have the freedom to move, and I am sure the other angels wouldn't appreciate my disappearance. However, maybe I could get you to pass something along to him."
"Oh yes?"
"I'll find a way to get a letter down to you dear, you'll pass that along to Crowley once you find him?"
"Certainly."
As the call ended, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. He knew that Muriel was a tenacious angel, and he trusted them to carry out this important task. With renewed determination, he continued his celestial duties, knowing that Muriel would be working tirelessly to find the missing demon.
In Dartmouth, Crowley found himself seeking solace in the tranquillity of the coast. The soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore had provided some weeks of respite from the tumultuous emotions that churned within him. As he strolled along the beach, with a hipflask of something strong to his lips, his mind kept drifting back to the events that led to their separation – the bitter argument, the painful parting – and the regret that gnawed at his heart. It might have been weeks or months since then, but it felt like only moments.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he had let Aziraphale slip through his grasp, like sand slipping between fingers. He had loved the angel for millennia, yet he never dared to fully express the depth of his emotions, fearing rejection and the vulnerability that came with it. Now, with Aziraphale gone to Heaven, Crowley's heart was laid bare, and he couldn't help but curse himself for not being more forthcoming when he had the chance.
As he continued his walk along the shore, he spied an elderly couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, smiles etched across their faces. The sight tugged at Crowley's heartstrings, a poignant reminder of what he had lost. The couple's affectionate gestures, their love for each other, mirrored the love he felt for Aziraphale, and the void left by their separation weighed heavily on him. For a second it seemed that the couple acknowledged him gazing from a distance, jealous of their love.
"Did I make a mistake?" his bitterness escaped him in a hiss, "Was it my fear or pride? Don't I deserve to be happy?" He knocked back the contents of the hipflask, hoping it would drown his isolation. The thought of spending eternity without Aziraphale filled him with a sense of loneliness he had never experienced before. In their time together, they had forged a bond that transcended their celestial origins, and now, without Aziraphale by his side, Crowley felt like a ship adrift in an ocean of uncertainty.
He longed to go back in time, to seize the moment and explain to Aziraphale how he truly felt in all of its complexity, to embrace him one last time and hold on tightly. A kiss wasn't enough, but maybe if he'd tried sweet words instead of heady actions, Aziraphale could have seen a future with him?
But time, like the tides of the sea, moved inexorably forward, and all he was left with were memories of a love he had not fully acknowledged.
In that moment, as he gazed at the aging couple, Crowley made a silent vow to himself. If he ever had the chance to be with Aziraphale again, he would cast aside his doubts and fears, and he would tell the angel the truth – that he loved him with every fibre of his being and that their bond meant more to him than anything in the universe.
From across the beach a gilded figure appeared.
Muriel had taken God-knew-how-long to tirelessly search for Crowley. They'd run countless visits to various places he'd had lived, but finally, they'd tracked down the elusive demon. As they approached him on the quiet beach, the sun setting in the distance, Muriel could sense the weight of loneliness and longing that hung around Crowley like a heavy shroud.
"Crowley," Muriel called out gently, not wanting to startle him.
Crowley turned to face them, his eyes carrying a mix of surprise and weariness. "Muriel," he acknowledged with a nod.
"I come bearing a letter for you," they said, offering him an envelope with Aziraphale's handwriting.
Crowley took the letter with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, unsure of what he would find within its pages. He opened it carefully and began to read Aziraphale's words, written with a blend of elegance and sincerity that was unmistakably the angel's.
My Dearest Crowley,
Muriel has been diligently searching for you, and they carry this letter to deliver my words to you. I know they care deeply for both of us and will do their utmost to find you my dear.
I hope this letter finds you well, though I fear the separation has taken its toll on both of us. I find myself grappling with conflicting emotions and the heaviness of regret. I must confess, my dear demon, that I miss you terribly. In the stillness of Heaven, my thoughts are constantly drawn to you, to the memories we created together, and to the bond we share.
I have come to realise the depth of my feelings for you, feelings that I never fully acknowledged or expressed during our last encounter. It pains me to think that I may have hurt you by choosing Heaven over our connection, but please believe me when I say that it was not an easy decision. There are forces at play in Heaven that make it near impossible for me to leave, even if my heart longs to be with you.
You are, and always have been, my greatest joy on Earth. Our time together has been a beacon of light in my celestial existence, and I cherish every moment we shared. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for any pain I may have caused you.
Metatron has also informed me about the Second Coming, a matter of great concern I'm sure, but one Heaven intends to act upon. As of yet they have not divulged any details to me, when I know of them I will surely pass them on to you, we must do what we can for the humans.
Please know that my heart aches for you, and the thought of being apart from you feels like a weight upon my soul. But for now, it seems our paths have diverged, and I can only hope that one day they will converge again.
Yours indubitably,
Aziraphale
As he read, Crowley's emotions ebbed again within him, Aziraphale's confliction and longing struck a chord deep within his soul. But the revelation of Heaven's plan to undertake a Second Coming and the fact that Aziraphale could not leave Heaven sent a surge of sadness and helplessness through him.
Muriel watched as Crowley's eyes moved across the pages, the weight of the letter seemingly adding to the burden he already carried. When he finished reading, he looked up at Muriel with a mix of vulnerability and determination.
"Thank you," Crowley said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please tell Aziraphale that I received his message, you can tell him where I am, I'm sure he'd want to know."
Muriel nodded, sensing the pain and yearning in Crowley's heart. "I will," they assured him, "I mean you could get a phone and tell him yourself if I gave him your number, no?"
"Well, no," he began flatly, "I haven't paid the electricity for this flat since the 1940s. I don't even know if it has a phone line."
"Ah that makes sense… Crowley, do tell me, are you going to be alright?" They worried, who knew how self destructive Crowley could be left to his own devices.
"Ha, Muriel! What are you talking about. I'm fine." But his voice cracked, his pain caught in his throat, choking him gently. He felt guilty, lying to their face, but in truth he couldn't bear the thought of hearing Aziraphale's voice. Even the thought of it now, it almost brought him to tears. Before Muriel could turn away, Crowley reached out and gently placed a hand on their arm. "Muriel, there's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice husky and thick with emotion.
They faced him, giving him their full attention.
He began in a rush, tripping over his words, "I love Aziraphale," Crowley admitted. "I have loved him for the longest time. But please, don't tell him. I can't- I can't feel that rejection again, not from him. I'm not-" Not what? Ready? Willing? Strong enough? He faultered, trailing off.
Muriel looked up at Crowley with compassion, understanding the depth of his feelings and the pain he carried within him. "I won't say anything, Crowley," they said gently. "Your secret is safe with me."
With a grateful nod, Crowley released his grip on their arm, allowing them to step away. Muriel gave him a kind smile before turning to leave, knowing that Crowley needed time to process the letter and his emotions. They didn't see however, Crowley's hot tears falling in the sand.
As they made their way back to the bookshop, Muriel couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for the two celestial beings caught in the complexities of their emotions. They hoped that one day, fate would be kind to them and that they would find their way back to each other – for true love, they knew, was a force that could defy even the celestial realm's barriers.
A/n: This chapter acts as a continuation of the first I feel, mostly in how C & Az think of eachother, but at last we have contact, what would we do without Muriel! I didn't want to get them talking immediately after S02E06, otherwise what the point be in having them seperated plot wise?
Anyway I hope you're enjoying this - I've had this account for almost 11 years and never posted anything! (In all honesty, I am finding the formatting on here a bit difficult)