Chapter Text
Crowley grabs the last page left of the Book of Life and holds it tight. He can't believe that they got to this point, that he is here again with Aziraphale at his side. He believed that he would just keep driving in his Bentley for all eternity, returning again and again to the bookshop that got left behind, to check on it. To make sure that the books don't catch too much dust, that no mouse or rat gets lost between the stacks. That the ghost boy* that sometimes stops by returns the books he took.
*Said ghost boy would be Edwin from the TV series "Dead Boy Detectives". Unfortunately for all, the author has decided that Good Omens also plays in the Sandman Universe, therefore making it possible for Aziraphale and Crowley to meet the main characters of Dead Boy Detectives. The author doesn't want to talk about the implication that this means there are two Deaths around.
He never stayed for too long, unable to stand the silence, the lack of pages being turned, the occasional grumbling when something doesn't make sense, the scratch of an old pen, the smell of hot cocoa ever present. It all just reminded him too much of what he had lost.
Right until he parked his Bentley on the street and saw a light still on in the bookshop. He was sure that he had turned it off when he left a few days ago, but right then he wasn't sure. Crowley had never expected to find Aziraphale inside the bookshop, never thought he'd see him ever again, now that Heaven got to him.
And now they're here, in the very middle of the Universe, and Michael just burned the book of life, all but one page of it.
Crowley holds it tight in his hand, crumbling it in the process. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Michael looking at him with wide eyes. Aziraphale too, on Michael's other side.
At first, Crowley had been convinced that they will all disappear once the last bit of their own pages had been burned, but here they are. Still standing, still whole.
He sees the tears in Michael's eyes, right before she starts speaking.
"How?", she looks at him, of all people, with wide eyes. "How are we still here?"
Aziraphale steps forward, and Crowley looks at him with just as much curiosity as Michael.
The angel clears his throat. "I assume, since this is the middle of the universe, the rules are different. Maybe this only collapses once the last page is burned. "
He looks at Crowley with so much emotion in his eyes that Crowley has to swallow the lump suddenly forming in his throat. He isn't sure if Aziraphale is thinking the same thing as him, too much time has passed for that. Too much time that he didn't get to spend with his best friend, his partner, the love of his life. He feels like he needs to get to know him anew, because he can't read every single emotion off of his face anymore.
He decides that he'll just do something now, and he'll pull Aziraphale with him, no matter if he approves or not. He grabs the page tighter, hears the paper crinkle between his fingers. Hears Aziraphale gasp and a sob from Michael.
He leaps forward, takes Aziraphale's hand and holds it tight. He won't loose his angel again. He turns to Michael.
"I guess as soon as you leave here, you cease existing, it's your decision.*"
*This is an educated guess on Crowley's side. He actually has no idea what is going to happen, since the Middle of the Universe doesn't follow any known rules.
Michael nods once, a court and short movement, just like he knows it. He nods back and tightens his grip on Aziraphale's hand even more.
"We'll be off then."
He hears Aziraphale gasp next to him and feels how he tries to take his hand out of Crowley's. He doesn't let go.
He won't let his angel go again.
Aziraphale rips himself loose as soon as they touch down on the floorboards of the bookshop. It looks exactly as it did the day Aziraphale returned to Earth to ask him for help looking for the Book of Life.
Up until that moment Crowley had first and foremost believed that he would never see the angel, his angel, again. And right after that, he had been waiting for the Second Coming to get started from up above. Imagine his surprise when he never met Jesus in the bookstore after returning to the turned on lights. It's what he had suspected, because in the back of his mind he never stopped hearing the words Aziraphale said to him when he left. Instead of a reborn and repurposed Jesus, he found his friend, asking for help.
At first Crowley feared that he might not apologise, that he still thinks himself in the right and just came to use him. Right until Aziraphale fell to his knees in front of him, skipping the apology dance and going straight to begging for forgiveness*.
*And explaining that the Metetron tricked him because he didn't want to be in charge over everything anymore. That the Second Coming was a ruse to get Aziraphale to agree because he knew that was his weak spot. And that the Book of Life has gone missing and that Aziraphale can't possibly find it without Crowley's help.
And now they're back, where all this started two days ago. In Aziraphale's bookshop, the only place left in the universe.
Aziraphale now looks at him with affront in his eyes. He holds the hand Crowley had taken in his other, glowering like he doesn't do often, at least not in Crowley's direction.
"I assume you have a plan, my dear?"
"Ngk." Crowley shrugs his shoulders. "Not really, just needed to go somewhere to clear my head."
He walks over to the window, looks out into the black nothingness of the now non-existent universe. He already misses the stars, not that he would admit it to Aziraphale, not yet when he doesn't know how they stand with each other, if it will ever be the same as before. But he does miss the creation he was a part of, and he would like to just see one star now, one familiar thing apart from this space he is in now.
Crowley has to admit that he is glad that his theory was right. He had this fear that as soon as they left their place next to the eternal flame, they would cease existing because their pages had been burned. He's glad that the page of the bookshop had been enough to keep them save.
He hears Aziraphale walking around behind him, he hears the sound of books being pulled out of the shelves, opened, closed, put back down, a sigh. The sound of Aziraphale's footsteps gets nearer until they stop right behind him.
"All the books are empty, Crowley."
He nods.
"It makes sense, don't you think? Michael burned it all."
He hears Aziraphale sigh.
"So there's nothing left. Even the Dickens are empty."
That sparks something in Crowley, an idea he didn't think he would have after this crushing realisation.
"What if we write a new Book of Life?"
Aziraphale steps forward, standing right next to him now.
Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley sees how Aziraphale hesitates before carefully taking his hand. His first instinct is to pull back, but the familiar touch stops that reaction. He squeezes Aziraphale's hand tight and just takes a deep breath in.
When they stood beside the fire, he thought it was over. He had spent so long missing what he had with Aziraphale and then he came back just for it all to be over in the span of two days. But now it's not, they seem to still have a chance. But Crowley, as he is, can't help but be pessimistic about it. Because he has never had luck in his life, and he can already imagine the door of the bookshop bursting open and God walking in to stop them from rewriting reality*.
*Of course this doesn't happen, because it would be a cheap way to resolve things.
Crowley sighs.
"You think we could do that, angel?"
Aziraphale nods enthusiastically beside him.
"Just think about it, my dear, we write down everything about humanity, everything we witnessed. We've both been on Earth for so long, since the very beginning, if anyone is qualified for this job, it's us."
Crowley can't help but agree with that but then Aziraphale voices the concern he already had himself.
"I just don't know…what about God?"
Crowley finally turns to look at his angel, takes Aziraphale's hand in both of his own. "What about her?"
"Don't you think she'd have something to say about that? She wrote the original Book of Life, after all."
Crowley looks down at their hands and hesitates. Aziraphale's concern is understandable and he wants to agree with him. But there is this nagging feeling at the back of his mind, a concern he's had for years now, ever since they managed to stop Armageddon.
"What if she doesn't care?"
Aziraphale reaches out and lifts Crowley's chin with his free hand so they can look each other in the eye. Crowley wants to look away, but at the same time he can't, gets caught in the angel's mesmerizing eyes. Reminding him of all the clear and sunny summer days they've spent together over the centuries.
"You really think so? That she stopped caring about her creation?"
"Ngk. She sure didn't do anything to stop it's destruction."
Aziraphale thinks about that for a moment. "But it was part of her plan, the ineffable plan, why would she stop it?"
"If she wanted it to happen, why not stop us when we tried and succeeded to stop it? That's the thing, isn't it? What if she just stopped caring and left us, her children, to do whatever we please?"
"Do you really think she could be so heartless?"
It makes Crowley laugh, this innocent question. He thinks back to the first war between Heaven and Hell, to all the angels and demons that died, the angels that became demons and the angels that managed not to fall but still became the worst versions of themselves. He thinks back to his own fall, sauntering vaguely downwards as he always likes to say. It actually hurt like Hell, and what came after hurt even more.
"She let the War happen. Don't you think someone as almighty as Her couldn't have stopped that?"
Aziraphale sighs. "I guess you're right."