Heaven Present Day
Aziraphale had just returned to his office after a pleasant lunch with Gilead. He had kept up the conversation because it was vital to his plans, but now he was drained. Why had he never felt tired when he had lunch with Crowley?
He sighed heavily and picked up this new version of The Book of Life that Michael had brought into him earlier. His mind was so crowded with plans and recent horrors that he had unearthed that it almost balanced out the emptiness in his heart. Almost.
"I know you love first editions, Angel, but don't you think you're taking things just a bit too far?" All traces of exhaustion left Aziraphale's face, and he lit up. He turned immediately toward the much-missed voice. His favorite demon had miracled a chaise lounge and had draped himself against the cushions.
"You're here!" Aziraphale exclaimed brightly. "Well, Angel, I realized you were in over your head and needed rescuing," Crowley said in his teasing voice that Aziraphale was all too familiar with. "I...I... Crowley, I… " stammered Aziraphale, suddenly pulled back to their last meeting, and his countenance shifted into an almost fearful depression. "You know what, Angel, we can talk about everything once we stop the end of the world...um, again."
Crowley stood and walked slowly and deliberately up to his Angel. "Right now, I would like to know why you smuggled certain celestial items out of Heaven and into my very hot demonic hands. Are you trying to get yourself erased?"
Crowley wasn't angry. In fact, he seemed almost pleased, thought the Angel. Aziraphale pulled himself together to banter with his demon. He straightened his jacket and replied, "I had it sent to Muriel, not you. I would never send such an important and dangerous," Crowley was looking at him with a wistful longing that he hadn't seen in a very long time, and the Angel broke. "Oh, my dear, I don't know what to do." he almost cried. Any semblance of propriety he had hoped to show vanished. "I have a plan, but it is perilous, and you're the only one in the universe that can help me."
"I know, Angel," said Crowley, and he reached out and placed his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders. That touch held comfort that washed over them both. It had only been six months apart, but those months had seemed like the most wretched years either had ever experienced. Nothing was right when they weren't together.
"I know you only left to try and save me, Angel, but you don't have to do it alone. I'm here now." Crowley said more tenderly than Aziraphale had ever heard him speak before. "Till all this blows over, we can tell everyone I'm your second in command," Crowley smirked.
"No, we can't," the Angel mumbled. "What's that?" asked Crowley. "We can't tell everyone you're my second in command because you have to be," Aziraphale looked down and paused. Crowley leaned in toward his wayward friend and said, "What do we tell people I am, then? "
"I'll have to show you what I found in the vault, so you'll understand, but you must become, that is, I have to appoint you as, well, "Aziraphale paused again. "As what Angel, spit it out," said Crowley. Aziraphale looked into Crowley's soulful eyes, which had seen so much pain, and it gave him the courage to reveal his plan, "You must agree to become the new Supreme Archangel."
Crowley took a step back and looked around the room. "Well, that escalated quickly," he remarked. Aziraphale began to speak very excitedly. "I know you don't want to be an Angel again, let alone "THE" Angel, but I've been working on this plan for a long time, and it's the only way." "So, for clarification's sake, Angel, you will step down and give me all the seething powers of Lucifer"? Aziraphale looked at Crowley and shrugged. "Yes, I suppose one could look at it that way."
"Why?" asked Crowley, "I'm utterly confused." Aziraphale grabbed the demon's hand and hurriedly dragged him across the room. "Are we going to dance again, Angel?" Crowley smirked. "Later, I promise," Aziraphale said without sensing the sarcasm.
They were suddenly standing in front of a walled vault. Aziraphale placed his free hand on the door, and it slid apart, retreating into the walls. He was still holding Crowley's hand, and the wistful demon showed no sign of wanting to let go. "This is rather shocking and will be very hard to swallow. I've had a while to ponder it, and I'm still unnerved." the Angel said.
They walked together up to a table in the center of the room with celestial books and reports stacked all around. "Show us The Great War: division briefing, please," the Angel asked the room, and papers digitized themselves and flew upward onto a screen.
Lucifer and Gabriel were in a peace talk before the war—each unmovable. "We have exactly equal numbers, Gabriel," said the pre-fallen Angel of Light. "You know full well that you are one Angel over, Lucifer." retorted Gabriel. "You cannot have both of them. For the greater good, those two angels must be separated. Heaven will not budge on this one."
Tell me, Gabriel, which one do you want to keep?" Lucifer silkily replied. Suddenly, the Metatron dropped into the conversation. "Are we deciding what to do about the troublemakers?" He asked. "We are," Gabriel replied. "Lucifer," The Metatron began, "since you have decided to go your own way, we will allow you to choose which Angel of the two you would like to take with you." the Metatron stated. "How gracious," replied The Light Bringer. I'll take Aziraphale." May I ask why you've chosen the Principality?" Inquierd the Metatron. "I have my reasons," he replied. "As you wish then. You take Aziraphale, and we will keep his other half." Said the Metatron.
"The only way this is fair to both sides is if we do a memory wipe of their relationship," Lucifer quickly pointed out. "If either remembers, they would refuse to stay separated, wouldn't they?" The Metatron nodded in agreement, "Gabriel has come up with a solution." Gabriel smiled angrily and said, "Yes, we already know we need a memory wipe, but given the unique circumstances, we must pit them against one another. A memory modification will make them enemies." "Excellent work, Gabriel." The Metatron praised.
The screen closed, and Crowley looked at Aziraphale with shock and horror. "Angel, what happened? That's insane." Crowley felt more unsure on his feet than if he had swallowed poison. "Lucifer wanted to take you as a demon. You?" stammered Crowley. "Heaven didn't seem to care about me one way or the other," replied Aziraphale. Crowley leaned against the table. He was quiet for a moment. "Angel, who was your other half?" There is more footage from the last day of the war. I am still waiting to see it. It requires both of us for clearance. "Us?" said the demon. "Us." replied the Angel.
"Before we look at this, I want to tell you something important." "It can wait, Angel," said Crowley, who was not ready for any more bad news. "No, Crowley, I must say this," Aziraphale began to speak before Crowley could stop him.
"I've been wrong about everything. I have looked down on you since you became a demon. I allowed myself to be manipulated by these power players. You have never been lesser than me. If anything, you were always the best of the two of us. I, I know that now. Deep down, I've always known it. I know that is why Lucifer wanted to make me a minion of the pit."
Crowley laughed, "Oh, Angel, is that what you think? You've never been demonic, even in the slightest. You're pure and perfect." Azriaphale blushed and reached out to grasp the hand of the only being who understood him. "I have been the worst kind of sinner. I have hurt you time and again with my rude remarks. Can, Can you ever forgive me?" Aziraphale looked up and saw Crowley's eyes shining gently. "There is nothing to forgive, Angel."
Aziraphale leaned toward Crowley slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've missed you so much, Crowley," The Angel's breathing was heavy and jagged as he slowly reached out and gently caressed the demon's cheek. His feather-light fingertips followed the line of Crowley's jaw with what felt to the demon like aching slowness. The Angel paused beside his lips. Both hearts beating wildly. "Crowley, I," whispered Aziraphale.
A soothing chime filled the air, and Aziraphael jumped, as startled at the intrusive sound as if it had been blaring sirens. "Damn it," mumbled Crowley, exhaling the breath he had been holding. "Wait here; I'll only be a moment." The demon watched as his Angel hurried back toward the entrance. He could hear muffled voices and turned his attention to the papers on the desk vault.
"Give me what you have on Aziraphale before the Great War," Crowley asked the room. A myriad of happy images danced across the room of Aziraphale in Heaven. "Now let me see us together," he demanded. Even more images filled the air. All of them were happy. Crowley saw himself as an angel with Aziraphale in hundreds of pictures. They were laughing and working together. Everything looked like paradise. Crowley had no memory of any of these times, save for one or two early on, and he felt angry tears brimming in his eyes at the loss.
Aziraphale came back to the room smiling brightly. "What's all this?" he asked as he saw happy images. Crowley turned, tears shining in his eyes, and the sadness in his heart hit Aziraphale like a brick. "What's wrong?" He asked, alarmed. "Have you seen this, Angel?" Crowley said, barely containing himself. "Seen what?" Aziraphale answered. "Look at these images. Do you remember any of this?" Crowley growled. Aziraphale looked up at the images, and waves of confusion washed across his face. He focused on a video of him and Crowley as Angels, an image he realized that he had no memory of at all. "What are these?' He asked with a mix of anger and confusion. Crowley answered him, anguish stinging his vocal cords. "It's what Heaven and Hell took from us." We've been fraternizing with the enemy for 6,000 years, and that enemy was never the enemy. It was just us the whole time."
Globe Theatre 1597
Crowley sat in the hushed darkness of the crowded theatre. He and Aziraphale were seated side-by-side, watching a new tragedy. Crowley hated tragedies. Life was tragic enough, but the Angel wanted to see it, so Crowley spent his evening thoroughly captivated by the ever-changing expressions on Aziraphale's face. Crowley wasn't quite sure whether the soft glow around them was the lanterns strewn about or if it was radiating off the Angel.
Aziraphale grabbed his hand during one of the more endearing parts of the play. Delightful astonishment plunged into the demon's heart and landed in his stomach. Crowley swallowed hard and refused to move lest he disturb this sublime enchantment that had fallen over them. Their fingers melded together while Shakespearean actors performed Romeo and Juliet.
Crowley watched as time slipped by and tears appeared in the Angel's eyes. Crowley suddenly felt a miracle welling up inside the Angel and just as quickly subsiding. An almost miracle escaping from the Angel was peculiar, and before he could consider what was happening, Aziraphale, still holding his hand, stood up and began to leave—dragging the willing demon along with him.
Aziraphale cleared his throat to speak only after they were safely on the street away from everyone. "What's wrong, Angel?" asked Crowley, genuinely concerned. "What were you about to miracle in there?" "I got carried away. That's all." said the Angel dismissively, trying to let go of Crowley's grasp.
The demon was having none of it and held on tightly. "I'm not letting you go till you tell me what's wrong?" "What if someone sees?' Asked Aziraphale. "If no one's noticed us yet, then we're alright. Besides, I'll push you up against the wall and pretend I'm roughing you up a bit if any annoying demonic beings interrupt us."
Aziraphale laughed and relaxed a little. "I'm fine." He said. "No, you're not, Angel. Here, I'm staying at the Inn one street over. I'll miracle the room," Crowley replied, "so we won't be disturbed." "I don't think my side would like me being in a demon's room," Aziraphale said. "But," He hesitated. Crowley used all his willpower not to just miracle the Angel into coming with him. "Won't they notice that you've miracled the room?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley grinned. "Not the way I'll do it, Angel. You're safe with me." They turned and walked down a dark alley toward the Inn Crowley was using as his home base. He led the Angel up the back stairs into a comfortable upper room.
Crowley began to throw demonic miracles everywhere. He had miracled everything around him to look exciting and evil. The wheelbarrow full of refuse was now a portal of evil and mayhem that any demonic presence would sniff out and become intrigued by. The theatre they just left received a major wallop of malevolent energy, causing every single person leaving the show to reek with a musky, villainous, and corrupt scent.
Crowley smiled to himself. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He and the Angel could be together tonight. No demonic forces would be the wiser.
Aziraphale began to sniff the air. "What have you done? he asked, alarmed. "Everything smells... evil." "I'm hiding us in plain sight," he answered. "No one on my side will bother us tonight, and anyone nosing around on your side will be so put off by the smell they won't even want to figure anything out till well past dawn."
"Oh, Crowley, You're brilliant." Said Aziraphale, delighted. Crowley was going to have his Angel safely ensconced in his room. Tonight would last as long as the demon could keep up this hedge of nefarious, smelly, nonsensical demonic interventions going, and he was willing to keep at for a very long time.
Crowley smiled to himself. He closed the door to any hell or Heaven lurking outside and breathed a sigh of relief. "This reminds me of that sea voyage we took back; when was it, Angel?" Crowley knew perfectly well when it was. Aziraphale blushed, "I believe you're remembering our tête-à-tête with that creature of the deep in 466." Aziraphale chided. "But it has been a very long time." he sighed. "Yes, it has," said Crowley, a husky sound escaping his throat before he could stop it. He turned away and casually sauntered to the nightstand, where several bottles of wine awaited. How convenient, two goblets. He thought. He filled each to almost brimming and handed one to his waiting guest.
The Theatre Inn 1597
"So what happened in the play?" He finally asked. "You know you always want to stay and praise the actors after, and what was that almost miracle I felt pulsating in your hand?" Aziraphale sighed and sat on one of the two chairs by the small table. "It was silly, really. I just became too involved in the lives of the star-crossed lovers, and something inside me desperately wanted to set things right. Why did their families care so damn much whether they were together?" Aziraphale said, choking back a sob he didn't want the demon to hear. Crowley heard it anyway. "We've been crossed by stars plenty, Angel. Hell, they practically bounded around us." Said Crowley mischievously. "It's just not fair, Crowley. They wanted to be together, and two stupid sides kept them apart."
Crowley had not paid the slightest bit of attention to the play and was suddenly intrigued by these words. "OK, Angel, tell me all about it. It will help you feel better." Aziraphale smiled. Crowley always asked him things and never made him feel worse when he was depressed. Aziraphale couldn't say the same for Heaven.