Aziraphale stepped out of the pub and back onto the street, head and heart pounding. He dared a glance back over his shoulder and saw his best friend in existence put his arm around someone else and lean in to whisper something into her ear that made her laugh out loud. Then Crowley leaned back, let his head drop to look over his shoulder, and made eye contact through the glass window pane. His lips ticked up into a smirk.

And Aziraphale's heart broke.

He tore his gaze away, looking left and right to try and work out where his bookshop was, and, once he decided on a direction, walked without looking back again.

After an hour of wandering, Aziraphale finally came upon his shop. The lights were warm and inviting and he hoped Muriel was back. He could use a friendly face.

He stepped inside and was, at once, greeted by the smiling angel.

"Aziraphale! What an amazing surprise! I was just putting the kettle on, would you like a cup of tea?"

Her smile was infectious and Aziraphale found himself feeling just the slightest flutter of something other than misery. Oh, he had missed her and her endless optimism.

"Yes, Muriel, thank you. I do have a question for you first, though."

"Anything!"

"Does Crowley come here often?"

Muriel's face pulled down in a frown. "He's here every day, but he's not very pleasant to be around. I try to cheer him up but I don't think he likes it. I feel bad for him! He's always drinking as well. I don't think I've seen him sober since you left…oh! I'm so happy you're back though, how's the promotion?" A huge smile spread across her face once again.

"Ah, the ah, promotion, yes," Aziraphale said, still trying to process the information about Crowley, and not too interested in discussing his time in heaven. "Yes, it's been tip top, absolutely wonderful - has he been sleeping here?"

"Yes, he's been using your room, I think, though I do try to stay away from him at night, he tends to smoke."

"Cigarettes?" Aziraphale said in disbelief. He hadn't smelled that ghastly smell anywhere in the bookshop or on Crowley, but who knew what demons could do? Surely he could do a small miracle to remove the smell.

"Oh, no, sorry, what are cigarettes? No, he smokes, literally. Smoke comes off him and it's a bit …sulfurous. Smells really bad most of the time, actually."

"I see," Aziraphale muttered. "Thank you, Muriel, for taking care of him. I believe I may have made the biggest mistake of my entire existence." Before he knew what was happening, tears were slipping out of the corners of his eyes and he was rubbing at them furiously, all the emotions from the last few hours finally overflowing.

"Oh! Oh oh oh," Muriel exclaimed, waving her arms about, unsure what to do in the face of so many emotions. "What did I say?"

"Nothing at all, my dear," Aziraphale said, shaking his head. "That cup of tea would be lovely."

Sometime later, in the wee hours of the morning, Crowley stumbled back into the bookshop, bottle of whiskey held loosely between his fingers. He had no idea where his Bentley was, he'd work that one out when he was sober again, although if history had anything to say about that, it would be a good, long while.

The angel had finally come back. It had taken an almost-comically long amount of time.

The consuming rage he had felt when he had seen Aziraphale at the pub had finally faded to a dull buzz at the back of his skull. He knew the angel would be in the bookshop, yet he had returned nonetheless. His complete lack of sobriety probably helped.

A single candle burned on Aziraphale's desk, but the angel was nowhere to be seen. Crowley hoped he was gone. No, he hoped he was miserable. Wait. Truly Crowley hoped that Aziraphale was sleeping, he'd looked exhausted and so, so sad.

Crowley slumped into the chair at the desk and placed the whiskey bottle gently down. He crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head down upon them, his thoughts feeling like they were fighting through the deep, dark sea to get to the forefront of his mind.

As much as he had postured, as much as he hadn't been lying when he told Aziraphale about the steady stream of lovers he'd had, deep down, seeing his friend again had set his heart soaring. And that scared the hell out of him. For a good fifty years he had been genuinely furious, then he'd spent about thirty moping around, then finally, for the last twenty, he'd mostly just drunk himself into a stupor, never letting himself get sober enough to truly feel anything. Where does one go from there?

He lifted his head enough to rest his chin on his arms and considered the whiskey bottle. It was still half full. That wouldn't do at all.

Crowley took a deep breath, then lifted the bottle and drained it in one long drink. It was when he put it back down on the desk that he heard the tentative footsteps and smelled the scent of black tea with just a splash of milk. Anger began to bubble up once again, and he could feel himself getting hot and starting to smoke. He knew he'd probably ruined that old book smell that Aziraphale loved so much with all his anger, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He pushed back from the desk and stood up, whirling to face Aziraphale…before promptly faceplanting onto the floor (it had been a long day and A LOT of alcohol).

"Oh!" Aziraphale said, stunned into action when Crowley dropped to the floor in front of him. He quickly put down the cup of tea he'd brought for the demon and knelt next to him.

"Crowley, are you quite alright?"

The demon didn't move.

"Oh dear, I wonder how much he's had to drink?" he mused aloud, eyeing the empty whiskey bottle on the desk.

Aziraphale gathered up all of Crowley's limbs and lifted him, carrying him up the stairs to the bedroom (the demon was surprisingly light, though it shouldn't have been a surprise as he was rather scrawny).

Aziraphale gently deposited Crowley, making sure he wasn't all tangled up, then he gathered the blanket and spread it out across Crowley, tucking him in. He knew the demon would be mad as anything if he knew Aziraphale was tucking him in like a child, but he couldn't bring himself to care at this moment. Crowley looked so vulnerable. Aziraphale smoothed his hair back from where it had fallen against his forehead and removed Crowley's sunglasses, folding them up and placing them on the bedside table.

Crowley's eyes flicked open the tiniest bit at the sudden influx of light and the angel's touch on his forehead.

"How dare you…why did you…" he slurred, his words falling quickly away with the last of his anger. He was so. Damn. Tired. His arm fell off the side of the bed and Aziraphale was quick to tuck it back at his side, under the blanket.

Aziraphale went back downstairs to retrieve the tea and blow out the candle on his desk. He picked up the cup of tea, the liquid still steaming, and took a small sip, savouring the malty flavour and the tannins. He reached over and ran his fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf nearest to him. It looked, so far, as if Crowley had made sure not a single book had left the shop in his absence. He had been considering his return for a long time, wondering what it would look like, and this certainly was not what he had been expecting, but he supposed it could have been worse. Crowley could have been gone. Aziraphale did, however, have some serious apologising to do, and he would get on that first thing in the morning. For now, though, he went back upstairs to the bedroom and moved a chair over beside the bed so he could sit. He gazed at his friend, feeling a deep sadness at what he had done, but also the love that he finally understood overflowing from his heart and oh so much gratitude that the demon had kept things tickety boo while he'd been away.

"Crowley," he said, and the demon grunted, apparently too drunk for words at this point. "You'll likely not remember any of this tomorrow, but it bears saying now, and again, and again until the end of time. I know you may not care for me anymore, and I will…understand if that's the case. But I'd like to tell you that I made a mistake. I left you and I never should have. I rejected you and I didn't mean to. I thought I could do something good, that I could save you and…us. What I really want to say is-"

Aziraphale was suddenly cut off by a soft snore from Crowley.

Ah well, first thing in the morning, then.

A/N: Comments would be greatly appreciated :) One more part incoming soon!