Heaven was very much like a beehive. Worker bees flitted around, droning and buzzing constantly. They only knew how to work to keep the hive alive and, most importantly, protect their queen from all harm. Aziraphale had spent all of his existence as one of those starry-eyed drones, buzzing from one place to the next in order to do the bidding of his queen. A blessing here or a miracle there, perhaps a divine intervention or two. He had enjoyed it most of the time, Heaven was the center of goodness and truth for everything, they were the righteous defenders of Earth and all the inhabitants therein. It wasn't in any Celestial Being's nature to harm or do wrong, peace was their ultimate goal. Yet, after meeting Crowley and stopping the apocalypse, that no longer felt quite right. Heaven was good but there was something foul that lurked deep in the recesses of its gilded halls. That foul thing watched and waited, whispering in the ears of the Archangels when God turned her eyes away. It was not demonic in nature, but it was not entirely angelic either. It must be Heavenly to exist within those hallowed halls, yet, it surely wasn't purely good. Whatever this entity was, its heavenly light was tainted, unpure. Aziraphale knew this being and had felt their presence only once before, but it would be a long while before he would be able to put a name to its mysterious face. For now, it would be his unknown shadow until the time came to bring everything crashing down.

There was a shift within Aziraphale somewhere in the last few thousand years. In his mind, the halls of Heaven no longer looked as bright as he remembered, that ethereal glow had begun to fade ever so slightly. It was like an apple that wasn't fresh, clean, and beautiful on the outside but quickly turning brown on the inside, rotting. Heaven hadn't always been this way, Aziraphale could recall when the Earth was new and Heaven's home office had fully taken form. It had always existed, of course, but the central hub had been the new addition. It was a place for all of the Angels to gather and discuss what was happening with Earth. There had been laughter and joy in those days, much like a constant celebration after completing a challenging project. Just like all things, Heaven changed whether the angelic residents noticed it or not. Could it have been all of Aziraphale's years on Earth that allowed him to see between the lines? Had the glamor been lifted from his eyes by accident or had it been intentional? Only She could know for it was all part of her ineffable plan. Aziraphale couldn't pinpoint when it had happened but he suspected it had all started with Job and his family. Gabriel had been the trigger of sorts with his speech about how it didn't matter that Job had done no wrong, he was simply part of a bet. A bet between the Almighty and Satan as to whether Job truly loved God or just the things he had been blessed with. None of that ordeal sat right with Aziraphale, especially when he had lied to aid a Demon; to go against God herself. It had been the right thing to do in order to save an innocent family but it went against his very nature; the core of his being. Not only had Aziraphale felt like he had become tainted, but Heaven itself had become less pure. There was a shadow veil cast over the heavenly light that had changed everything into shades of gray, Heaven was not quite as black and white as it had seemed. Had it ever been black and white? It didn't matter anymore, not now that Aziraphale was seeing things in gray, a very light gray at that.

'Heaven has to change… it is the only way,' Aziraphale thought to himself as he prepared himself for the meeting. He was supposed to meet Uriel, Michael, and The Metatron in the conference room. Saraquel was also supposed to attend the meeting but they had been called away to act as a dignitary in Hell to rectify the whole disappearing act that Gabriel and Beelzebub had pulled. The Angel dug his pocket watch out of his vest, there were only a few minutes left before he needed to leave. There was no clock in his office, which was rather bothersome, but he had his faithful pocket watch to keep him diligent. The office itself was sparse, to say the least, there was no furniture outside of his desk and chair. No colors to be seen other than white: walls, tiles, lights, everything was white. The walls were free of paintings, pictures, or tapestries, not even curtains on the windows. It was so very different from his bookshop which was full of soft lighting, colorful tomes, and tartan. God Lord, Aziraphale missed his tartan accents. Aziraphale's decorative style was anything but plain and the dullness of the office made his corporation itch. The only thing that made it a little less lifeless than it was was the view of the city from his window. Aziraphale could see the entire cityscape from his office and it was rather breath-taking. The Heavenly City was beautiful to him in a way that Soho wasn't, but Soho had held much more charm.

He wanted desperately to make this space his own, to make it feel like home, but he couldn't, it simply wasn't allowed. The Metatron had been very clear about that when he had first shown Aziraphale where he could be working.

'You must forget what you had on Earth. As the new Supreme Archangel, you will not have time to concern yourself with human trinkets. Angel's have no need for that kind of tomfoolery, especially when there is so much work to be done.' The Metatron had huffed in disgust. Aziraphale had only asked if he could make the space a little cozier with a book or two and perhaps a tartan throw pillow for his chair. There had been no room for discussion, it was simply out of the question. He would simply have to learn to get used to the lifeless space. Perhaps he would even learn to like it after he had settled in more. Yes, that's all he needed was more time.

Aziraphale glanced at the pocket watch again, smoothing his thumb over the glass face. The watch had been a gift from Crowley after their little run-in with Elspeth and Morag. Aziraphale had remarked on the beauty of the craftsmanship and inquired where Crowley had gotten it from. The serpent had declined to answer where he obtained it, saying something about how the maker was long dead. Crowley had done something Aziraphale could only describe as selfless; he gave him the watch. Aziraphale had tried to reject it but Crowley had insisted that it would suit his wardrobe better than his. 'Always looked better in silver anyhow…'. The watch in question chimed quietly as it struck the hour, pulling the Angel out of his reminiscing. It was time for him to get going.

"Remember who you are doing this for," Aziraphale whispered to himself as he set off down the corridor, "You are doing this for Humanity, Nina and Maggie, Muriel… for Crowley."

Aziraphale found comfort in reminding himself why he chose this in the end, why he had left that bookshop with a smile on his face when he hadn't felt like it. The heartache would all be worth it when his work was complete. If he was successful, he could return to the life that he left behind and try to fix all of the broken things he left with it. When all of this was done and Heaven was what it was always meant to be, Aziraphale would be able to look Crowley in the eyes again. He could tell him that this was all for them and that he wasn't choosing Heaven over him. It was going to be difficult but it was a challenge worth taking on.

The hallways in Heaven always felt cold, lifeless just like his office. Even though there were millions of Angels, Aziraphale hardly saw any of them. It was like they didn't exist until they were needed for something, materializing out of the ether when called. That was something else that would need to change. There was a quietness that wasn't a peaceful kind of silence, no, it was the kind of quietness that you might find in an interrogation room. It was oppressive and heavy, sucking the air out of every room. It felt like one wrong move would shatter the false serenity and punishment would come to the offender, swiftly and harshly. Someone was always watching, making note of who was slipping out of line. Failure was not an option and it never would be as long as the silence remained. Aziraphale's footsteps didn't echo and bounce off the quiet halls like they ought to. Every unnecessary sound was erased before it even had the chance to be heard. The Angel repressed a shudder as he turned the corner to the hallway that led to the conference room. He had always been a fan of silence because it meant that no one was there to interrupt his research or reading. Crowley, of course, had been the exception to that because Aziraphale liked it when he would chatter on about nonsense while he worked or read. There had been times when Crowley had simply existed in the same space as him without talking and Aziraphale had liked that silence too. However, the silence of Heaven was so different, it made his skin crawl and he felt the urge to check over his shoulder when the silence became too loud.

There was no door to the conference room, just an ornate white arch. It was beautiful in a very haunting classical way. Heaven had become very partial to the interior design of the Victorian era and had even incorporated some of it into the modern look it had now. Everything was in white of course, but it was lovely. Aziraphale entertained the thought of what the arch might look like if it resembled aged oak instead. It was certainly more pleasant in his mind, it would have made a beautiful addition to his bookshop.

Ah… The shop, Aziraphale hummed sadly to himself, as he recalled his Earthly home. He found that he missed it quite a bit even after being in Heaven for over a month now. He had told Crowley that nothing could last forever but he had been wrong. No matter how hard he had tried to forget everything that he had left behind, Aziraphale could not quell the ache that bloomed in his chest whenever he remembered his old life. It wasn't just the bookshop that he missed, no. Aziraphale found himself longing to chat with Maggie about her records and the new ones that she had acquired, spending time in Nina's café and watching her flit around bantering with her customers. He even missed Muriel and their inquisitiveness about everything. They were in charge of his bookshop now and they hadn't been called back to Heaven yet to give a report. This was partly his doing, Aziraphale had kept putting off their report because he couldn't bear seeing them before he had done something significant to make their existence better. It was also the thought that Muriel might talk about Crowley and all the things that he had been up to since they parted ways. Aziraphale didn't want to know what had been happening while he was away because he was terrified that in knowing, he might want to leave Heaven before his work was done. The Angel hadn't heard anything since the first night that he had come to Heaven when he was working in his office. Aziraphale had tried his hardest not to listen to any more prayers that called out to him directly in fear that he might hear Crowley's desperate pleas to come home again. He wouldn't survive another ordeal like that, it would positively break him in ways that he would never fix.

"Aziraphale," Uriel called from inside, gesturing to the group of Angels standing at their podiums, "Join us."

Aziraphale snapped out of his haze and rushed under the arch, into the room to join the other leaders of Heaven. He offered them an apologetic smile as he took his place. None of them noticed, they had become accustomed to his daydreaming after a while. The Metatron cleared his throat, calling their attention to him.

"It is time for us to discuss the next steps forward as we usher in The Second Coming," The Metatron's voice left no room open to argue, each Archangel watching him intently, "We need to be prepared for every eventuality. This cannot be another failure for Heaven, this is part of the Great Plan. After the hijinks surrounding the apocalypse, we must be more vigilant than ever. No slip-ups." Aziraphale felt all eyes in the room flicker to him as he absently nodded along. It was no secret that Heaven's previous "failure" had been partly his fault, they had even tried to kill him for it. Obviously, he had been forgiven for that little transgression because of where he currently found himself but they surely had not forgotten. Heaven was notorious for remembering every bad thing that you had ever done. Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably under their collective gaze, unsure of what to do at that moment.

"Well, my dear fellow, I don't think we have anything to worry about this go around. I am here in Heaven to follow God's plan and Crowley is in no way involved with anything Hell might be planning, of that much I am certain. All will go according to the Great Plan." Aziraphale said confidently, putting his most charming smile in place. He didn't believe a word of what he had said, the only thing he wanted most in this universe was to stop the end of the world. He had done it once and he would certainly do it again, even if he didn't have Crowley at his side to do that. It would be difficult, Aziraphale would have to lie more than he ever had in his existence to make his act believable. As long as he did everything under the radar and didn't cause any ripples, no one would know that he had done anything until it was too late. Aziraphale had always been a terrible liar, there was no getting around that. The singular time he had been successful was when he had gone to Hell in Crowley's place in order to save him. So, the best thing he could do for now was channel every ounce of Crowley's confidence that he could and hope to God that no one saw through his façade. Right now, he was just an Angel going along with Heaven as far as he could. It was terribly lonely but it was what had to be done.

Metatron narrowed his eyes for a moment as he studied Aziraphale from across the room. It was like he was searching down to Aziraphale's very soul looking for any falsehoods. He didn't seem to find any in what the Angel had said, "Yes, I suppose that is true. However, that meddlesome demon won't be a problem for much longer."

Aziraphale froze, icy fear gripping his spine and holding him in place. A ringing started in his ears as the Metatron's words sunk in. The Angel's mind spun as he thought of all of the things that that statement could mean. It would be foolish of him to immediately jump to defensiveness, especially before he knew for sure but if he was implying what it sounded like he was, Crowley would be in serious trouble and Aziraphale could not stand idly by.

"Whatever do you mean," Aziraphale asked calmly, clenching his hands behind his back, "what makes the demon, Crowley, so important?"

"That demon is not important, not in the slightest. However, the Almighty would rather not have anything getting in the way, he is simply a loose end. Loose ends do tend to get themselves tangled up in things that they shouldn't and that can be hazardous to Heaven's plans. There is no plan for Crowley as of right now, but do rest assured that there will be one soon and he will be dealt with swiftly." The Metatron sniffed, his face scrunching in disgust at the thought of Crowley. There is no plan… Aziraphale had to make sure that there never was one. If he couldn't derail the forming of a plan, then he could at least make sure that it didn't end in Crowley's demise. That, of course, was the less favorable option. Aziraphale didn't want anything to happen to Crowley at all, he wanted him to be safe and happy until he could return. There was one thing that Aziraphale could be certain of; he was going to warn Crowley that something was coming for him.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, it was mostly babble about what was going on down on Earth and how it might be useful to the Second Coming. Aziraphale should have been more concerned about it but the Archangels really had no concept of what happened on Earth. They had eyes and ears everywhere, but they did not understand human nature like he did. That would give him the advantage for a while before they started asking him for more of his input on things. He may be the Supreme Archangel but Michael and Metatron were not keen on listening to what he had to say. Aziraphale was still shaky on speaking above the beings that he had followed behind for so long. It didn't matter now, not when he had to go to Earth. At the end of the meeting, he informed his colleagues that he would be checking in with Muriel to see if they had learned anything of import. Uriel had questioned why he had wanted to go to Earth for the report rather than have Muriel come to Heaven. Aziraphale had brushed them off with an excuse about wanting to see his old stomping grounds. They had all found it odd but did not object. The Metatron had offered a knowing smile and offhand comment about wanting to take a trip to Earth himself but did not say anything otherwise.

Aziraphale tried not to panic as he prepared himself for the journey back. He didn't need to bring anything with him but he did need to mentally prepare himself for what he had to do. It had been a month since he had ripped his own heart out and left it to rot in his bookshop… a month since he had seen Crowley. They had certainly gone much much longer without seeing each other but none of those times had been on the tail of confessions and rejections like their last parting had been. So much damage had been done to their relationship and repairing it was going to take so much work. Aziraphale was trying to prepare himself for how Crowley would react to seeing him again after what had happened between them. Certainly, he would be furious at Aziraphale, he would be hurt and cold. Aziraphale could handle all of that to save his beloved's life. There was a chance that Crowley might not even talk to him but Aziraphale would make him, he would not be deterred. He would make his apologies before dropping a bomb on Crowley of course but it would not be the tearful reunion that Aziraphale had imagined. That would have to wait for when the demon was not in danger. It was going to be difficult but it had to be done.

Aziraphale checked his pocket watch, there were a few hours before dawn would wash London in light. There was a chance that Crowley would still be awake, he had always preferred doing business at night. Aziraphale listened to the quiet ticking of the watch for a while, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. It was a comforting sound that reminded him of the peaceful nights that the two of them had shared in the bookshop. The phantom smell of aged paper and dust invaded his senses, pulling him into a calm trance. Aziraphale prepared himself for the jump he was about to take. He focused on those familiar sensations, picturing the entryway of the shop in his mind. With one last deep breath, Aziraphale let himself fade from his office and manifest in the entry of his bookshop. With his heart in his throat and courage blossoming in his chest, he opened his eyes, ready to face whatever was going to happen next.