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A knock sounded from the front door that led to Crowley’s flat, echoing across the scarcely furnished apartment. Crowley, who was sprawled on his couch surrounded by empty bottles of wine, did not react. He didn’t even open his eyes. He couldn’t move, couldn’t care to see who was at the door. The knocking however, did not stop. It became more insistent, and after a minute or so, Crowley finally demanded, with an angry sigh for extra effect,
“Who is it?”
“It’s Muriel,” a small, and frankly scared, voice said from behind the door. Crowley instantly felt guilt rising like bile in his throat. He had grown rather attached to the angel, and Crowley hadn’t meant to make them feel bad. He miracled his door to open, and a nervous Muriel stepped into his apartment.
“I know you said not to bother you while you were sleeping, but there was someone at the bookshop who wanted to see you.”
Crowley vaguely remembered that conversation. Muriel had somehow found his apartment and came to check up on him. Crowley, who had been in a drunken stupor ever since Aziraphale had left three days earlier, had told her- as kindly as possible, although he would never admit it- that he was tired, and wanted to sleep. And indeed he had tried to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, his last moments with Aziraphale would play in his head. No longer could he sleep the century away, like he had before. He was a prisoner in his own mind. So for the past few months, he had laid on his couch and drank nonstop, hoping to dull his feelings.
“If it’s Nina and Maggie, tell them I’m fine and to bugger off.” It wouldn’t be the first time those two had tried to contact him in the past few months. But thankfully, they didn’t know where his flat was, and Muriel had not told them.
“It’s not,” Muriel reppiled, hovering anxiously by the doorway. Crowley frowned in concentration, trying to figure out who else on Earth would be looking for him.
“Anathema?” He tried. They had somewhat stayed in contact over the past few years since armageddont, and Crowley wouldn’t be surprised if the witch had somehow found out about his current state.
“No,” a new voice said, and Crowley swore his blood turned to ice when he heard that voice. He looked up to find Aziraphale had come into his apartment, and Muriel had moved from the door to let him in.
Distantly, Crowley was vaguely aware he had scrambled off the couch, and was now standing up, but he didn’t remember moving.
“What are you doing here? What is he doing here?” He demanded, after sobering up, assuming this was some sort of drunken mirage. Muriel shrugged helplessly at him.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice strangely quiet and soft. Crowley didn’t move. Didn’t react. He couldn’t. Aziraphale was back. And the worst part was that his eyes, his angel’s beautiful blue eyes were bright violet. Anger and surprise rushed through Crowley. The words I forgive you were ringing in his head. After a moment of silence, Aziraphale sighed and turned to Muriel.
“Thank you for taking me here, can you leave us for a moment?” Muriel nodded and stepped out of the apartment. There were so many things Crowley wanted to say, but the only thing he did manage to utter was:
“Why did you bring Muriel here?”
“I didn’t- they wanted to come. They’ve been worried, and they weren’t sure you’d answer if you’d know it was me. They told me that you haven’t really been talking to anyone.”
“Why are you here?” Crowley asked, pushing the guilt of worrying Muriel away, and trying to focus on the moment at hand, trying to center himself.
“I need your help-”
“Oh? Do you know?” Crowley demanded, unable to help himself.
“Crowley-”
“I’m just surprised,” Crowley continued, allowing bitterness to creep into his voice. “Because last time we saw each other, you were pretty clear on the fact that you only needed me if I was an angel. That you couldn’t bear be with me unless I was an angel-”
“Is that what you think?” Aziraphale demanded, his eyes shining slightly. His voice was so loud and full of hurt, that it made Crowley stop his rant in his tracks. “That after all these years I could only be with you if you were an angel?” Aziraphale paused, as if waiting for an answer, but Crowley just stared at him, breathing hard. “That after all these years I don’t lo-” he stopped and shook his head.
“That you didn’t what?” Crowley asked, his voice breaking.
“It doesn’t matter. You have to listen to me. Just- please. Hear me out, and once I’m done, you can tell me to go away, and I’ll go away. I promise.”
“I never wanted you to leave,” Crowley whispered. He really hadn’t meant to sound so pathetic, but his mask of indifference was slipping away from him, and he couldn’t stop himself.
“I know Crowley, but I had to leave. If I hadn’t- if Michael had been put in charge, the world would certainly be over by now.” Crowley raised his eyebrows, and Aziraphale took it as a sign to keep going. “They want to start the second coming. We need to stop them.”
Crowley really did try to formulate a coherent answer. Anything from: so what does this have to do with me? To: so, how can I help? Could have worked. But all he managed to say was a very dignified:
“Wot?”
“Heaven wants to start the second coming. But I can’t let them end this world. Not like this. We need to stop them, just like we stopped Armageddon- if we work together we could do it.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Crowley began, “I warned you that Heaven wanted to destroy the Earth just as much as Hell did, and you didn’t listen. I warned you they were using you, and you went anyway. And now that you’ve realized that I was right, you came back, assuming I would help you. Despite the fact that we barely managed to stop Armageddon.” An expression of hurt flashed across Aziraphale’s face, but Crowley did not feel victorious, as he was hoping. Instead, he felt defeated and tired. Tired of fighting and of playing this endless cat and mouse game.
“No Crowley. I never wanted to leave you behind. I wanted to change heaven for the better. I wanted to change it to the place of good it was supposed to be. And I wanted you by my side when I- when we did it. But I can’t change an entire institution. Not in enough time.”
Crowley was fighting back tears. After so many months of thinking Aziraphale had left because he believed Crowley wasn’t enough, because he believed his feelings weren’t reciprocated- well, they still might not be- but that wasn’t why Aziraphale had left at all. Before he could really digest this new information, Aziraphale kept talking.
“It will be different this time. Beelzebub and Gabrielle will help us this time- and we can reach out to Anathema, Newt, and Adam. We need to try. If you won’t help me. Help. Help the people of Earth. Help Nina, Maggie, and Adam and his friends. Please.”
The silence that followed lasted precisely for two minutes and forty three seconds. For those two minutes and forty three seconds, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. The sound of traffic suddenly became quieter, and the family of nightingales that lived in the tree next to Crowley’s apartment had stopped chirping.
“Fine,” Crowley agreed. “Fine, I will help stop this. But I am doing this just for them. Don’t expect anything else.”
That was a lie. Of course it was a lie. He had loved Aziraphale for six thousand years. He wasn’t about to stop any time soon. But Aziraphale had hurt him. Really hurt him. And Crowley didn’t have time to process the information he had been given. They didn’t have time to talk about it. Not yet. But maybe, if they did their job right, if they stopped heaven once more, they would finally be able tell each other how they truly felt.