Chapter one: I am the flame
Alpha Centauri
"I wish I could love," cried Dorian Gray with a deep note of pathos in his voice. "But I seem to have lost the passion and forgotten the desire. I am too concentrated on myself. My personality has become a burden to me. I want to escape, to go away, to forget. It was silly of me to come down here at all.
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
"Such a stupid thing indeed. The reading of a book in Alpha Centauri with no thought of a certain angel who made me into something I am not very fond of at the moment."
I mutter as I read the eighteenth chapter of Dorian Grey, Crowley the demon reading a book from the bookstore and a gift from the angel who ruined me. When I leave here to be alone, when I hold on to the book, I am reminded of when Azriaphale turned Dorian gray.
August 30, 1889
Langham Hotel, London, England
"What a lovely hotel, a nice choice, Crowley."
"Angel, I do have a way of picking the right time for just about everything."
"Whatever you have in mind, Crowley."
"How long have you and I known each other?"
"One thousand, eight hundred and eighty-nine days."
"And what day is that?"
"Oh, Crowley, how dare you?"
"Don't say it, Angel. You'll kill everyone in this hotel."
"I had in mind that tonight I would treat us not only to an alcoholic culinary delight but also to a literary one."
"Literary, oh Crowley, don't step on me and tell me who."
"Turn left to us."
Aziraphale turns to his left, his mouth agape. He sees that J.M. Stoddart, an editor for Lippincott's Monthly Magazine, was in London to solicit novellas for publication in the magazine. On 30 August 1889, he had dinner with Oscar Wilde, Sir Conan Doyle, and T. P. Gill.
"Crowley, how did you find out?"
"Permission granted, follow."
I lead Azirapahle to the table next to the four mentioned literary scholars. As a demon, I unleash my magic to start mind-bending a certain writer to plague him, since he has permission to do so,
"So, mate," Crowley says in front of Aziraphale, "art, do you think it captures the soul of a man or does it consume him?"
"Well, mate," Azirapahale replies, "I believe that it can do both.
"Consume a man's soul if he believes in the power of eternal youth," Crowley said.
"And capture the soul of the man who sees the true darkness or the light on the yes."
"Excuse me, fine gentleman," Oscar Wilde himself interrupted their conversation, asking them, "You're talking about the latest work I'm thinking of, mind if I pick your intellect?
"Oh, my yes, fine fellow," Crowley smiled at an awestruck Azriaphale as the two of them engaged in conversation and together plotted the book that is now known as The Picture of Dorian Grey.
Back to the present day in Alpha Centauri, holding the book The Picture of Dorian Grey, the only book Crowley has ever possessed, was something he never thought he would ever have. He looked over the book and remembered the day Aziraphale gave him the book,
Xxx
August 30, 1999
Langham Hotel, London, England
"One hundred years, Crowley, we've gone from beating Literature Genius to Oscar Wilde."
"Yes, Angel, after all these years his name has been burned out of all of England because you have given me a great gift of meeting great literary minds and I thought I would give you something special for me."
"I do not need anything special from you, Angel."
"Oh, Crowley, don't be so proud. Accept this gift."
Aziraphale placed a book in front of him.
"I've never been given one to read before."
At the sight of Aziraphale's somber expression
"If there should be any trouble, Crowley."
"What the hell are you talkin' about, Angel?"
" If I open something beyond stupid or unforgivable, where there is no mention of it, after lost moments, and may the flames always burn the hardest flame."
My hollowness from remembering the only book ever given to me by an Angel I turned to rage as I tore the page from it, I held it in my hands, I said
"I watched as the page from Dorian Grey burned out into space, "I am the flame, and this is what you have made of me, Angel.
As I burned the page, the book in my hands glowed, and growled, knowing that the glowing signal was a miracle protecting the book from ever being harmed or tampered with. With all demonic might I wanted to throw the book out into space to be rid of the memories, but as the book continued the glow of an unexpected voice told me,
"He is sending you a message"
It was Gabriel with Beelzebubba waving at Crowley. I returned the wave and said to Gabriel,
"Whatever message the angel has to give me does not matter, he has made his choice, he has chosen heaven over me."
"What if I told Crowley that Azriaphale has no choice in the matter when it comes to the Second Coming?"
Crowley is not happy. Heaven is once again playing games, messing things up, taking away his free will. Crowley once enjoyed repairing and rescuing his most precious angel from his celestial chains.
"If what you say is true and you refuse to answer me, I will take great to burn you. I will take great pleasure in burning you to death as you once did."
"This is my pence, demon, and Azriaphale is showing me mercy and I want to return the favor, he needs you, Crowley, as much as I need Beelzebub. You need his light as much as he needs your salvation."
Gabriel returns to Beelzebub and departs with her. Crowley looks at the book. Its glow fades as he opens it to see the torn page back in place.
"Yes, very reasonable... People die of common sense, Dorian, one lost moment at a time. Life is a moment. There is no afterlife. So let it always burn with the fiercest flame."
"Oh Angel, what a mess have you gotten me into this time?"