Sooo... this isn't exactly how I planned to debut my comeback from a hiatus of 10 years... I had something epicly complicated in the works. Unfortunately, life, as usual, likes to butt it's nosy little head into my plans. This is mostly just me trying to processing through my emotion. So please try not to judge me too harshly.
Also, I'm still not too familiar the rating system since it's been so long. I've bumped up the rating higher than I normally would since this is themed around loss and death.
"Angel?" Crowley called out as he quietly closed the door to the bookshop.
There was no answer, but the demon had already started walking up the staircase, knowing exactly where to find the principality.
The demon had just returned to his flat from a visit from down below to file his latest report on his evil doings. For the last half a century or so, things have been quiet. Nothing more than miniscule daily temptations on the human race. It seemed, for now, that both Heaven and Hell had no big plans involving earth. Both angel and demon had been pretty much left to their own devices, so long as they did their job while there.
Crowley had sunk, more like sprawled, into the chair at his desk. He was exhausted, as he usually was when he came back from Hell. There were no demons there who truly understood him. A fallen angel who only went along with Hell for as long as he could. He was not evil. He did not enjoy it, at all. Sure, pranking, misleading, tempting…. That was something he took pleasure in. But pain, misery, violence…
The Starmaker took a deep breath and shook his head off his thoughts. He wasn't ready to go down that thought train. Not sober at least.
Pushing himself up in his chair, he made to get up. Alcohol, in any form, was something he was starting to feel he needed at the moment. As soon as he was on his feet, however, he noticed that there was a message on his ansaphone. He paused, torn between listening to the message and his need to take the edge off.
It might not be important. He thought. After all, he did get the occasional telemarketer or wrong number. More often than not, though, it was usually the angel checking up on him. He leaned over the desk to press the play button, curiosity getting the better of him. He had just seen Aziraphale last night and normally wouldn't be calling him quite this soon.
"Hello, C-Crowley?" Aziraphale's voice soft and hesitant came through the recording. He heard a deep sigh as if the angel was trying to regain some sort of composure. "So sorry to bother you my dear, but well… you see…"
There was another pause. Crowley started to wonder what was making the principality so anxious. He hasn't heard the angel this nervous in almost a century. There was a tiny hint of shakiness in his voice.
"I believe there is something wrong with Azriel." The angel finally said. "He isn't- I mean, well I haven't- I'm not sure what to do."
The demon blinked. It came out rushed and in a single breath. He thought he heard a tiny hint of despair in there.
He waited for an elaboration, but it seemed that Aziraphale hung up. He thought he had caught a sigh near that end that sounded like the angel had sounded like he had questioned why he had called in the first place.
Azriel was a black and white tuxedo cat that Aziraphale had ran across 15 years ago at the corner right next to the steps his bookshop. The kitten had been curled up on itself, softly mewling, while trying to weather out the passing storm. The angel brought him inside, he just couldn't help himself, fully intending to let the kitten be on their way the next morning. The kitten, however, had other plans.
Crowley had never seen the angel become so attached to anything or anyone in their 6000 years on Earth. Sure there were feelings of fondness, guarded friendship, sincere empathy to those less fortunate that meant Aziraphale tried everything he could to help turn their life around. But that was different. That was purely his love for the human race and his duty as an angel.
The demon had popped in about one week later, intent on tempting the angel to close up shop and have lunch with him. He sauntered over towards the backroom where Aziraphale was sitting in the chair next to his gramophone. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught in his throat for a second.
"Angel, why is there a black ball of fluff in your lap?"
"Oh, Crowley!" Aziraphale looked up at the demon a bit startled. "This is Azriel. I found him outside the shop in that horrible storm we had last week." He continued as he looked down at the kitten. "I had intended to let him go once the storm passed but…"
The angel trailed off in thought and Crowley had seen a deeply hinted gleam of something in his eyes.
This was not going to end well.
He found Aziraphale in the guest bedroom sitting down at the edge of the bed. Azriel lay next to him, his head down and eyes closed. The little demon had lost a lot of weight, he noticed. He was no longer the plump chonky cat who loved food and treats as much as their owner. The demon frowned slightly when he realized that he could see Azriel's ribcage and spine from his spot near the door. Cerulean blue eyes looked up at him when he entered, full of anxiety and worry.
"Crowley…" He could see it in the angel's eyes. He knew. Of course he did. He also knew that there was nothing that he could do to stop the inevitable.
"Aziraphale… Angel, you knew this would eventually happen. We both did." The demon started as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "We've both- it's just the way it's always been." He watched those eyes shift downward and oh how he desperately wanted to reach out his hand.
"I know dear. It's just…" this is different. Was left unsaid.
Of course it was. The demon thought. This was the one thing he had silently feared the most. True companionship with any Earthly beings were not something that could have ever happened. There were always secrets. Things that could never been said. There were things that just couldn't be explained once they had moved on from the biblical era.
Being an angel and demon that went along with their respective sides as far as they could, was most definitely lonely. Their companionship was sporadically spotty at best. They were playing a very dangerous game after all. But Aziraphale's soft side, that was so uniquely him, made him a being incapable of just saying no.
To have a companion, aside from Crowley, with whom he could be completely honest and transparent with had soothed something within the angel that he would never admit out loud. It had made every day for the past 15 years more enjoyable. It had made Aziraphale truly happy.
But nothing lasts forever. All things must come to an end.
And so, Crowley said the only thing he could think of. "It's okay Angel. I'm here."
Aziraphale managed a weak smile at the demon and took a shaky breath. "Yes, you're right. Of course."
The next few days were spent with both angel and demon hardly ever leaving the guest bedroom. Aziraphale tried his best to make Azriel as comfortable as possible. Attempting to give him water and treats whenever he could manage.
Azriel moved around as much as he could, but at this point in his life, he really had very little energy left to do anything. Eating and drinking required so much effort that all he could do was lay there and stare at it. He would occasionally stand up and move closer to the angel that had saved him. He would very slowly walk on shaky legs to get close enough to his owner before his legs would give out and he would just flop down. The last bits of his strength would usually be used to nudge his head into Aziraphale's hand, attempting to give some semblance of comfort to the despairing angel.
Cloudy black eyes look upwards towards the voices he hears, but he can barely make out the shape of his owner and companion in front of him. His pupils were so dilated you could barely see the golden yellow of his eyes any longer. Azriel chose, instead, to close his eyes and let the soft, gentle tones of his owner soothe him as the angel reminisces and tells his demon companion of all the stories and moments that he missed over the last 15 years.
Crowley was unusually silent. But Azriel didn't mind.
By the third day, Aziraphale seemed to have gained some of his composure back.
"I think I'm ready." He murmured softly as he gently ran his hand down the back of Azriel. Bringing it back up to scratch behind his ear.
Crowley placed a comforting hand on the angel's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, saying nothing. He was here as silent support, a comforting presence, as the only being in the universe who could truly understand what the angel was going through. To bear witness to this painful passing so that Aziraphale would never have to remember this moment on his own, alone, for the rest of eternity.
Aziraphale leaned down to place a loving kiss on top of Azriel's head. "Go to sleep my little demon. And dream of whatever you like best." He whispered as he ran his fingers through soft black fur. With a small gesture of his other hand, he put Azriel to sleep one last time. "I will forever miss you."
He stood back up and stared down at his scrawny little friend. He looked, to all the world, as if he had just fallen asleep for a nap. And for a second, Aziraphale almost believed it. He continued to stare for what felt like an eternity, yet in reality was only mere moments before Crowly gently led Aziraphale out of the room and back downstairs, settling him onto the sofa.
Crowley went into the backroom to prepare some tea and placed it in front of the angel. Aziraphale unconsciously reached for the cup, relishing in the warmth it provided. Crowly left the little alcove so the angel could have a moment alone with his thought and grieve. Aziraphale never noticed.
When the demon had come back some time later, he noticed that his companion hadn't moved. The now cold teacup was still sitting in his hands. Crowley reached out to remove the cup and place it on the desk, then turned back around to grab the angel's hand and gently tugged him back into a standing position.
There was a flicker of recognition in Aziraphale's eyes, followed by a mildly questioning look. The demon ignored this and led him back up the stairs and into the guest room.
The first thing Aziraphale noticed was that the bed was now empty. A brief sense of panic had sparked in his chest and he made to spin around towards the demon, but stopped mid-turn when his eyes caught sight of something on the dresser. The angel took a couple steps to get a closer look. There sat a small urn. Light silver in color. So light, in fact, that with sunlight coming in through the window, it almost looked like an ethereal white. On top of the cover was a small kitten that looked exactly like Azriel when he had found him on that stormy night. Small angel-shaped wings, one white and one black, extended from the kitten's back right between the shoulder blades.
Aziraphale reached out a shaky hand to caress the top of the urn, tears welling in his eyes, before turning to look at Crowly in slight bewilderment. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His mind couldn't find the words.
The demon looked at him a bit sheepishly, though you could see the sadness in his eyes as well.
"Figured I'd do the hard bit for you." The demon stated. His hands were at his side, curled into fists. He really didn't do well with strong emotions. Moreso, expressing them. "I'm g'na miss him to ya know." He continued softly. "Here."
Aziraphale took two steps towards the demon, who held out his fisted hand, and raised hand up just underneath it. "Just thought you'd appreciate keeping a small part of that little demon with you." He said as he turned his head to the side, no longer looking Aziraphale in the eyes, as he opened his fist and let the small object fall into the angel's hand.
The angel shifted his eyes to look down at his hand. It was a key ring. There was a small matte black capsule connected to it along with a small round token that had a tiny black wing hanging near the top.
I still need you close to me.
Aziraphale read the engraving, and he felt the slight stinging behind his eyes as he looked back up at Crowley. He was speechless.
The demon sighed. There were moments, he knew, that necessitated the need for openness and honesty. As loathe as he was to admit it, it was the only way to endure the atrocities of the past 6000 years and the eternity ahead. This was one of those moments.
He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his Bently. It took Aziraphale a second before he spotted the matching capsule and token, only in silver. The same light silver as the urn sitting on the dresser.
"This is the curse of eternity on Earth." The demon finally spoke. "This wasn't our first, and this most definitely not be our last. But these are precious moments we've earned… we've been rewarded." He corrected. "Moments we're allowed to cherish for the rest of eternity. A moment we've both experienced together. I couldn't…" let you experience this alone. He trailed off thoughtfully for a moment. "I am here." He finished in an attempt to be comforting.
A large, bright and beautiful, yet forlorn smile finally graced the angel's face.
"Thank you."
