I think it’s so wild when theatre professionals don’t understand why kids don’t see the ensemble as this massive honour.
Like I understand it’s context in the industry, I do.
But some high schooler, whose ensemble is made up of any kid who put their name on a list at the start of the year, of kids who come to two rehearsals and the performance and a bunch of people who drop out because they didn’t get the lead, probably aren’t going to see the value in it.
Especially when their school has a dance ensemble and an ensemble.
Anyway, I love theatre and I just want to shoutout all those kids in the ensemble in their high school show. That was me too.
After Aziraphale chooses to accept the new position in Heaven, his relationship with Crowley is forever changed. His new duties in Heaven are more than capable of keeping him busy but there's always one red-headed demon who keeps taking up space in his mind.
Crowley, equipped with no home, no partner and no plan is left to wander around Soho searching for purpose. Until he reconciles his feelings towards Aziraphale, will he ever understand truly why staying in the human realm was the right choice?
They are left to wonder how they even managed to live without each other and what point there is to living if their best friend isn't by their side.
A songfic inspired by the Fall Out Boy song Heaven's Gate, featured on their album Mania.
There are also Romeo and Juliet references because Aziraphale is a nerd.
5030 Words
AO3
-----
One look from you
The demon Crowley mindlessly walked through the streets of a quiet nighttime Soho, looking for some kind of purpose. The crisp London air danced across his exposed skin and he was in some ways thankful that the usual drizzle hadn’t made an appearance. He couldn’t tell what compelled him to come here, not when there was a whole garden's worth of plants that needed his attention.
Part of him, deep down, was hoping that when he turned around this next corner the quaint bookshop would have a dim light flickering in the window. Other than the steady beating of his leather shoes, Crowley couldn’t focus on anything. His whole world had felt hazy since the departure of Aziraphale and his previous hobbies didn’t have the same draw they did in the past.
As he made his way around the corner he saw the bookshop crawl into view. There it stood, untouched by time. For a moment there he wished that his partner would be resting in his armchair, in the throws of yet another book. Memories of light crepes and the scent of light brunches came to him and served as hallmarks of a simpler time. Well, as simple as things could get for the unconventional duo.
Crowley pushed the door open, ignoring the small closed plaque that had proudly stood on the door for a while now. The demon looked around at the dark interior. Somewhere a faint echo of the angel’s voice seemed to echo, recalling the meticulous organisation of the emporium. There was something unsettling about a collection left incomplete. As Crowley looked around he couldn’t help but lock on to everything that’s changed. The few remnants of their confrontation with the higher powers made the place feel wrong. The unease wasn’t unnoticed by the demon who moved towards the unfortunately vacant armchair.
He let himself sink into the immaculately maintained seat and looked at the desk. He reached over to light a small oil lamp and watched as the ember glow began to illuminate the store. On the desk was a pristine copy of Romeo and Juliet sitting amongst a pile of journals and trinkets from their travels.
Crowley grimaced slightly, looking at the copy of the ill-fated lovers sitting in prime position on the desk. It felt like an insult. What possible reason could Aziraphale have for reading this book? Why is that the last remnant of his partner’s time here? In some ways, Crowley began to regret his involvement in the popularity of Shakespeare but he still leaned over and picked up the novel, being careful to not crease the delicate specimen.
As he moved it, he watched as a small photo fell out of the book. He reached down to pick it up, noticing a message scribbled on the back in black ink. ‘My dear’.
And I'm on that faded love
Upon flipping the photo over, Crowley is shocked to see his face staring back at him. It was a simple photo, just the demon seated in the armchair of the bookshop, much like he is now. But Crowley couldn’t remember this ever being taken. Stunned momentarily, he placed the book back on the desk and twirled the photo in his hand. Was it normal for friends to carry around photos of each other? Crowley tried to think of a moment where he had a photo of his angel friend but his mind drew a blank.
“Why did you have to leave?” Crowley croaked.
He tossed the photo onto the desk and took off his sunglasses, allowing them to fall absently onto his lap. He looked around the shop and no matter where he looked, there were signs of him. To the perfectly aligned books and the abandoned teacup on the desk. In his investigation, he noticed the rug was sitting slightly out of place.
He couldn’t help himself from shifting the rug with his foot. A wave of relief came over the man as it was returned to its rightful place. The feeling was intoxicating and he began to tidy the store as a whole, starting with that accursed book. As he placed the book back on the shelf he felt a warmth wash over him. A familiar warmth.
Even that feeling couldn’t be of comfort. He wanted his friend. He didn’t want to imagine his friend’s embrace. He wanted him here with him. It was almost enough to send him into a frenzy. His hand slipped off the book and he turned to lean against the shelf. He looked out the window momentarily, waiting for some sign in the quiet street.
As he glanced over at the coffee shop outside the window he felt that familiar anger bubble in his stomach. How could some human understand the relationship he had with Aziraphale? If she had said nothing, then Crowley would've said nothing and it would've been okay.
Except, it wouldn't have.
Aziraphale was still gone. He still would've offered to reinstate his angel status and he still would’ve had that goofy smile on his face. Crowley had become well and truly familiar with what-ifs. It was a question that had plagued him for weeks. In some sense, it was what brought him to the bookshop in the first shop. A stupid hope that things had changed.
What if Aziraphale had changed his mind? What if he was still in his dopey little bookshop drinking his quaint tea and being disgustingly kind to the locals?
What if Aziraphale had chosen Crowley instead?
Out of my body
And flying above
There was something poetic about looking up at the sky and not seeing the stars. One might’ve called it light pollution but Crowley knew the truth. The universe was so against their partnership that slowly but surely, any remnant of their time was being erased.
“Let there be light. What a stupid idea.”
The nebula and the stars weren’t the only light Crowley found that day. The other kind was less tangible but wasn’t any less real. His light lived in a small bookshop. His light was always there, the perfect compliment to his dark. The day to his night.
Crowley struggled to forget the moment he reunited with Aziraphale after his fall from grace and the shock on his friend’s face. It was only natural, Crowley reasoned with himself. No one could stay good forever. But there was a scar on his heart that wouldn’t fade, a wound dealt by his lover when he saw what he had become.
Their partnership was sealed from that point, however. Who else could be so wholly good to see through the conniving snake in front of them and see Crowley? Crowley had made peace with his demonship but he held out hope that at some point, Aziraphale would remove his rose-coloured glasses and see what he did.
Despite all of this, Crowley still felt like half of his heart was in heaven. He hadn’t felt whole since the angel’s ascent and he often wondered if Aziraphale had ever felt the same. This hole in his chest was even more evident as the dusty smell reached his nose. He could curse and hide away from his emotions but it didn’t change the fact that he had fallen, and it wasn’t only from grace.
If there were any more left of me
I'd give it to you
“We could’ve been happy, Angel. We could’ve had anything we wanted. You saw Gabriel and Beelzebub. That could’ve been us. It should have been us!”
In his anger, he swiped at the bookshelf and watched a row of books fall to the ground. Their heavy caused a resounding thud throughout the store and Crowley sunk to the floor, surrounded by the fallen books and a cloud of fine dust that bellowed out in his outburst. He fought with his scarf and threw it to the side before slumping further into the ground. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the remaining books.
“I would’ve given you everything. But you just had to be perfect, didn't you? The best little angel they’ll ever see. I mean, who could even compete with that? What’s one little Crowley when the Metatron is singing your praises?”
Six thousand years is a long time to be chasing after one person. Regardless of what Crowley tried, he would always return to his light that illuminated the small bookshop in Soho. Like magnets, they would always be drawn to each other. That was always going to be Crowley’s downfall. No good comes to a demon who cares too much.
And I'll tell you that I am fine
But I'm a missile that's guided to you
---
Go out in the world to start over again and again
As many times as you can
There was a certain glamour that comes from being the First Principality of Heaven. Aziraphale almost felt like a celebrity, getting to be involved in all dealings of heavenly duty.
Something about overseeing all the blessings filled his heart with joy. As much as he enjoyed his time on earth it was so easy to get bogged down in all the bad that he could almost forget just how much good happened every day. He had become particularly fond of hearing of all the new life brought into the world, against all odds.
One of his first orders of business was reorganising all the files in Heaven’s hivemind. It was the closest he could get to his home in the bookstore, plus it allowed him to get even more familiar with all the ins and outs of archangel life.
“Archangel Aziraphale? We’re getting reports of a miracle in America. We don’t have any records of this approval. Do we need to send someone to investigate?”
Aziraphale turned around and smiled at the young angel addressing him. He paused for a moment to consider, quickly adjusting his tailored coat before looking up to meet the angel’s gaze.
“I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. We’ll just have to wait for the angel to report back. No need to worry.”
The young angel looked unsure and shifted their feet slightly. It was the first time they ever had to report to Aziraphale and despite the Archangel's kind personage, there was always an intimidating air around him.
“If you say so, Archangel.”
The angel left quickly, turning back to check that Aziraphale was sure of his decision before they left.
Aziraphale would never get used to intimidating people. It simply wasn’t in his nature. He could empathise though, knowing how important it is to retain the natural order of Heaven. After the possible news of war had spread, it had been difficult to retain peace in the upper kingdom and Aziraphale had been on damage control since. It wasn’t every day that there was a massive overhaul in the bodies that dictate Heaven but the angel wasn’t going to let that break his stride. He had a job to do and there was simply no time for distractions.
Distractions…
And in the end if I don't make it on the list
Would you sneak me a wristband?
Ensuring that there was no one around, Aziraphale indulged in diving into the records of Fallen Angels. For anyone who asked, Aziraphale hadn’t as much as thought of his demon friend but there’s always a twinkle of intrigue that would creep up into his stomach. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, of course not.
No, no, Aziraphale would never do something that went against the greater good of heaven. It was simply research. How can he prevent more angels from falling if he doesn’t know what causes the phenomena?
“Okay, show me what you have on…”
The angel paused for a moment, once again checking no one had snuck up on him. Not because he was doing anything wrong. As we know, an Archangel would never dare. But as he checked the coast was clear he uttered one name.
“Crowley.”
Would you give me, give me, give me
Give me a boost.
A boost over heaven's gate, yeah
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
As the angel opened the file he began to see pages upon pages of his ventures. Any mention of Crowley was not long followed by Aziraphale. Any passive onlooker would think the two were never apart. It felt utterly self-absorbed really, seeing Heaven sing his praises for constantly coming toe to toe with a demon and still being able to fulfil many blessings. It was increasingly obvious that they hadn’t caught on to the pair’s little deal, yet it pained Aziraphale to see his companion painted in such a terrible light.
It’s not as if Crowley committed some heinous sin that made him fall from grace. He’s certainly too cynical, to his detriment the angel recalled, but it was appalling to see the way they could talk about a former angel. It was as if they thought Crowley never had a good bone in his body.
“No, no, this can’t be right.” The angel whispered, flicking through the numerous files.
“Is there something wrong, Aziraphale?”
The angel whipped around, closing the file he’d been pursuing in his haste. When he turned though, there was no one there. Stunned, the angel looks around the room to find the mysterious voice.
“Very funny, you can come out now!” The angel teased lightly.
He continued scoping the surroundings. He was hardly unfamiliar with illusion. The prospect even excited him, so he called and called to find the owner of the voice.
But no one came.
Aziraphale turned back to the file in front of him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered granting Crowley angelic status and welcoming him back into Heaven. As recognition of all the good he’s stumbled into doing. Surely not for any other reason.
Any other reason would be selfish and selfish is hardly a trait for an angel to have, much less an archangel. To make someone, especially a demon, an angel without their explicit would be nothing short of a sin. Even just thinking of the word makes Aziraphale jolt slightly. Although the reinstatement of Crowley would be nothing but good he could never rush into such a hasty decision. Nothing good comes of a romance that’s built on mistrust. He rushes to put the demon’s file away and once again adjusts his suit. But there’s still a nagging feeling that lies in his stomach.
I'm gonna need a boost
'Cause everything else is a substitute for your love
The angel tried as hard as he could to forget all about the snake that captured his heart. Nothing but a traitor, he’d say. A traitor who was too afraid of eternity to spend his time in Heaven with him. What good is there to being a demon anyway that Crowley would choose that purgatory over an eternity in heaven, with him?
Like Romeo and Juliet, he lamented. Two ill-fated lovers never meant to be. It’s not as if Shakespeare had written the two as a reflection of the pair but as Aziraphale recalled the story, a familiar pain returned to his heart.
Two households, both alike in dignity
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
Regardless of whatever lies he tried to tell himself about Crowley, he could never forget his partner. You can’t just forget six thousand years together. Even if they didn’t always get along, they always had each other. In the middle of Heaven and Hell, there was Crowley and Aziraphale. One of the few constants in an ever-changing world of God’s Creation. Any time Aziraphale would see the stars on his few descents into the human realm since his promotion, he couldn’t shake the sense that Crowley was there with him, gushing over the beauty of his original nebula.
In another world, it would’ve been just them. But Aziraphale could never pass up an opportunity to become an Archangel. Not many people would wait millennia for a promotion but as an angel, he had all the time in the world to wait.
Selfish. That word stuck with Aziraphale like a bad smell. It was hardly a word the angel would use to describe himself. Crowley, maybe. But anything that disgraced his partner felt like a disservice. Crowley would be better here, he couldn’t help but think. Let alone better, Crowley would love it here. Who wouldn’t?
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
---
I got dreams of my own
But I want to make yours come true
So please come through
Honey please, please come through
“Mister Crowley?” Muriel called. They knocked lightly on the door of the back room where the demon had been taking refuge for a few days now.
“I really must ask you to unlock the door. I left a book of most importance in there and I simply must know how it ends.”
The demon huffs before dragging himself off the seat he’d found himself and he unlatched the door. Before letting Muriel enter, he leant against the doorframe, just inspecting them and the shop for a moment.
“I really can’t imagine Aziraphale would like what you’ve done to the place.”
Crowley saunters out but as he leaves, he sees the copy of Romeo and Juliet still sitting on the desk. He detours to swoop up the book before heading to the door. As he made his departure he turned to Muriel once more. Looking between them and the scattered books on the floor he simply mutters.
“Terribly sorry for the mess.”
Crowley meanders out of the bookshop with the cursed book tucked under his arm. He looks at the now bustling streets of the city and scowls. Human problems seem so inconsequential. That’s what used to make temptations so fun.
He turned the corner to where his Bentley sat, in it’s prized spot waiting for his return. The night had been kind to the vehicle, thankfully. Hell only knows what would happen if something damaged his baby. As he sat in the car, watching the world pass him by, he opened up the book to a random page, searching for some kind of reason why Aziraphale loved these things so much.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
“What a load of rubbish.” The demon frowned before tossing the book onto the seat beside him. He reached over into the glovebox to pull out a new pair of sunglasses before fixing them comfortably on his face. He had everything ready to get up and go, but where?
He hadn’t been able to get back into his apartment. Muriel was hardly fond of him residing in the bookshop, and the Bentley at some point felt limited in space, especially with his plants still residing in the back. Everywhere he had, everywhere he loved was suddenly taken from him and he was just meant to sit down and deal with it like a good little demon.
Crowley huffed at the thought before starting the car. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and began to drive with no destination. He just blankly followed the road ahead of him. For once, he allowed himself to remember the good times with Aziraphale. He remembered all the unlikely times in history when their paths crossed. He remembered all the times Aziraphale had his back. Most painfully, he remembered all the times he was there for Aziraphale.
Go, go out in the world, start over again and again
As many times as you can
As he drove out of the city onto the highway he turned the radio on, hoping for some freedom from these thoughts. He watched as all the magazine houses began to get further and further apart before it was just him and the road. He was barely paying attention to what was playing, just mindlessly following the road in front of him and hoping in some way bigger than himself he’d find his way to where he was meant to be. He hesitates to say he needs a miracle.
His life didn’t have to be directionless. He didn’t have to spend every waking moment mourning the loss of his biggest supporter, but it sure was easy. A fleeting second went by where Crowley thought about what would've happened had he accepted Aziraphale’s proposal.
Deep down he knew he would never make a good angel, not with what he’s seen now but he would try for Aziraphale. For once, instead of being disappointed in his dastardly deeds he could return to his angel and see his face light up, much like it had when he’d mistakenly done something good before.
Return to Aziraphale. The thought was addictive and the idea lingered on his tongue like the long sip of a fine liquor. He hadn’t let himself bask in this fantasy for a few weeks now, casting it aside as a waste of time, but is the comfort it brings truly a waste?
Somewhere, deep down, Crowley wishes he had just said yes. He wishes he didn’t have to choose a side but the pain in his heart in the absence of Aziraphale is a pain he simply couldn’t bear. How bad could Heaven be anyway?
And in the end, if I don't make it on the list
Would you sneak me a wristband?
---
Give me a boost, a boost over heaven's gate, yeah
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
I'm gonna need a boost
“Mister Aziraphale, you seem distracted.” The reporting Angel noted. They tilted their head slightly in a quizzing manner intrigued to know what could possibly be on the archangel's mind during such an exciting time.
Aziraphale snapped out of his haze and gave a small smile. This has been happening all the more often recently and it wasn’t only lower-level angels noticing. Somewhere he had strayed and let himself fall into a demon-fueled haze that plagued his mind.
“My goodness, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. So, you said you were worried about what Hell was planning?”
“Yes, Supreme Archangel. There seem to be some demons that are hanging around-“
There’s that word again. The rest of the angel's words fell away as the archangel returned to his daze. Somewhere amongst the familiar smell of books was the sharp tang of liquor. His memories of delightful human foods were poisoned by the recollection of the snake that had coiled around his heart and was taking it hostage. Even blessings didn’t give him the same spark they used to.
'Cause everything else is a substitute for your love
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
“Oh my I’m terribly sorry but I think I just need a moment.” Aziraphale breathed, suddenly overwhelmed by the endless white expanse surrounding him. His perfectly tailored suit felt tight in all the wrong places and he was in no place to lead the Upper quarters. He had armies of angels waiting for his beck and call, recovering from the false promise of a war. A war against demons.
But Aziraphale had his own war he had to fight.
---
You're the one habit I just can't kick
Crowley stopped in a small park in the town he’d found himself in. As he sat on a bench and basked in the familiar sun he struggled to feel it’s usual warmth. He looked up into the sky, investigating the kaleidoscope of clouds above him looking for some kind of sign. An arrow might be nice, maybe.
---
You're the one habit I just can't kick
Aziraphale checked his schedule once more, checking to make sure he had no holy commitments. It’s not like an archangel to have space in his day but word was spreading that he was unwell and mysteriously people weren’t coming in to ask him, well, anything.
---
You're the one habit I just can't kick
Crowley watched as pair after pair walked past, holding hands, staring lovingly at each other. God forbid kissing. He scowls as they walk past, in many cases mocking their small talk. Crowley would never be one to hide his resentment but what he truly couldn’t hide was how much his heart had broken.
---
You're the one habit I just can't kick
Aziraphale couldn’t contain himself any longer. He took a deep breath before summoning an elevator to earth. As the door dinged and the bright white portal opened he hesitated. As much as he wanted to visit the human realm what would happen if a red-headed demon crossed his path? What if when we wanted to indulge in some lovely treats and his biggest vice was there instead?
You're the one, you're the one
You're the one, you're the one
You're the one habit I just can't kick
---
The elevator made its final ding and the sound resonated throughout the park. Crowley, instantly recognising the sound whipped his head around with no less haste than a cat pouncing on it’s prey. He watched as this bodega across the road flooded with light and an angel stepped out.
Not just an angel. His angel.
Crowley locked on to this individual and leapt up from his seat before sauntering over to the blinding beacon.
Aziraphale looked around, admiring the simplicities of human life. A young child running after their friend, young lovers walking together, glued to their side. He enjoyed the fresh breeze and the warm sun dancing on his skin. As he glanced across the familiar park, looking for the one tried and true bakery he’d been craving. In his inspection, he saw what could only be described as his emotional black hole barrelling towards him. The demon’s red hair seemed even more fiery than he remembered and as the demon pulled off his sunglasses, the snake eyes were centred on him undoubtedly.
Give me a boost, a boost over heaven's gate, yeah
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
“What are you doing here?” The demon snarled before grabbing onto the angel’s lapel.
He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and shout and call Aziraphale a traitor but his harsh persona melted away and all the concern he had for his friend flooded back.
“Why now?” He continued sheepishly.
Aziraphale, shocked by his friend’s reaction leant back slightly before just staring at him. He reached out, slightly adjusting his friend’s crumpled jacket before looking back up and smiling at him. Don’t let the angel persona slip. You have a standard to uphold.
“I could ask you the same question. I didn’t pick you as a bird watcher.”
“Oh shut up.” The demon shook his head, trying to hide the inkling of a smile that crept onto his his.
There were so many words they each had to say to each other. They could’ve talked for hours about how much they missed each other. They could talk endlessly about what their lives were like in the few weeks apart. They could’ve talked about anything but for a long while they just sat and stayed in each other's company. At some point, they moved back to the park bench and sat beside each other, with only the air an old married couple could hope to achieve.
“So, how’s Heaven?” The demon offered half-heartedly.
“How’s Heaven? That’s your question?” Aziraphale teased.
He was glad he didn’t ask anything difficult. He could answer this. He knew this.
“It’s… good.”
Crowley nodded slightly before looking the other way. He wanted to understand why this angel made him so hopeless. He wanted to know why words got stuck in the back of his throat and why he cared so much about what he thought.
“Probably could’ve guessed you would say that.”
Aziraphale sighed slightly. “Have you considered my offer any more?”
“Have you considered mine?” Crowley snapped back.
I'm gonna need a boost
'Cause everything else is a substitute for your love
“It would be like old times, Crowley. Well, a little bit different but we could together again. It’s lovely in Heaven I think you’d like it quite a lot.”
Crowley sat in silence, stewing on the idea. Any time he even thought about accepting Aziraphale’s offer he just remembered what his descent was like, what it was like to have so many questions and be punished for it. How can you blame someone for wanting to understand?
It took a long time for him to realise it, but staying on earth wasn’t a selfish move. One day, Aziraphale was going to fall, and Crowley needed to be there when it happened. He would never forgive himself if he wasn’t. The demon bit his lip, resigning himself to the loneliness in the meantime.
“I simply don’t think it’s for me.”
Tight-lipped and burdened with the knowledge that his friend was going to leave him once again, Crowley made a move to leave. Spending any more time here would just hurt more and he needed more time to think. To find something to do in the meantime. Azirapahle would come back but with no promise of when he couldn’t sit here waiting on a bench for eternity.
“Well it seems you’ve made up your mind. And I really must be going back anyway.” The angel hurried as he looked for a watch on his wrist. He stood up from the bench and brushed off his suit. He once again equipped his angelic smile and prepared to depart.
Give me a boost over heaven's gate
Give me a boost
“Before you go,” Crowley started.
The demon turned around and with the same fire he felt in his stomach that day at the bookshop he smashed his lips against Aziraphale’s. Every emotion ran through him at once. Anger at leaving him, sadness at the thought of being alone, happiness that he was here with Aziraphale again but most prominently, fear.
Fear that when Aziraphale needed him, he wouldn’t be ready.
I just want to say a massive thanks to the creator of this list. It's been a great writing challenge and I've really enjoyed the daily ritual! I hope you guys have enjoyed reading.
Crowley protects Aziraphale from the big scary haunted house.
Aziraphale felt himself second guessing every decision he had made today as they reached the Haunted House. There appeared to be some kind of Halloween party adjacent to the main attraction and many drunk, scantily dressed young people were pouring from every entrance, various beverages in hand.
The angel had never really been one for the clubbing and party scene but he always loved watching Crowley tear through the crowd and demand attention with his eccentric mannerisms and abrasive nature. It was a wonder Crowley had any friends at all, sometimes.
Crowley peeled his way around the car, still clad in the angel-inspired outfit and reached for Aziraphale’s hand, a gentle reassurance that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He began to step towards the haunted house, excited to hear and see what new developments had been made. Crowley himself hadn’t been to a proper haunted house in years and he was sure that there would be more exciting spooks this time around.
What Crowley had failed to mention was that there were going to be jumpscares. Aziraphale had a turbulent past with jump scares, having a habit of his wings flicking out and forming some kind of shield. As they were signing the waivers, Crowley turned to Aziraphale after reading a statement about not punching the actors. He gestured to the employee that they would be back and he gently pulled the angel aside.
“So, Aziraphale… You’re going to get scared, alright? But you can’t do your usual…thing. Just stick with me and it’ll be fun, okay?” Crowley cautioned softly, aware of all the humans around him.
Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he nodded unsurely, his grip on the demon’s hand growing ever so slightly tighter.
They finished signing the papers before they entered the room, passing through a red cellophane curtain into a dark room, barely lit by a series of orange LEDs. There were a bunch of fake skeletons lining the walls, all letting out low groaning noises.
As they took one step further, an animatronic snapped to life, letting out a maniacal laugh. Aziraphale immediately leapt back, letting out a loud shriek and he tried to hide behind Crowley who was chuckling softly.
“Come here, angel,” He whispered, snaking an arm around the frightened man’s waist. Aziraphale let out a tiny sniffle and wiped his nose. As soon as Crowley realised he turned to ask, “Do you want to keep going? We can head home?”
Aziraphale shook his head, knowing how much Crowley had been looking forward to this.
Crowley reached into his pocket and revealed a glowstick. It was usually intended for children, but it was simply a signal to the actors that someone didn’t want to be spooked. Crowley bent the glowing beacon around Aziraphale’s wrist before taking hold of his hand once again.
They moved into the next room which was set out like some kind of dentist office with blood all over the ground. The actor came up to Crowley and grabbed his arm before setting a drill sound off right beside his ear. The sound crept right through Crowley’s skin down to his bones and he felt himself tense up.
Aziraphale tensed up and his grip on Crowley’s hand tightened.
The actor grabbed on to Crowley’s arm, leaving a wet mark on his shirt with fake blood before rushing them into the room. Crowley turned to check on Aziraphale to make sure he was okay. The previous look of fear on his face seemed to shift into an uneasy smile which was enough for Crowley.
The rest of the attraction was much the same with all the actors trying to scare Crowley and surprised at how unphased he was by it all. Something about spending millennia being a demon really took the edge off of things. Aziraphale, now knowing that he wasn’t going to be spooked by the actors was easing into the experience, even laughing at Crowley who looked uneasy when a woman trailed her long nails down his shoulder and back which caused a shudder through the demon’s body.
When they made it through to the other end, Crowley was covered in fake blood but sported a fantastic grin on his face, enjoying the unparalleled thrill of it all. The same employee they saw at the start handed them a goodie bag each for making it through the house with various candies and a sticker that proudly proclaimed ‘I made it through the Soho Scare Shack’.
Once they were back in the Bentley (and after Crowley definitely didn’t miracle his clothes clean so he couldn’t stain the seats), Aziraphale let out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding.
“That was certainly something,” The angel proclaimed, taking a moment to stretch his arms out and get comfortable, “It was almost fun by the end.”
Crowley started the car and eased into a comfortable joy, “Glad you thought so, angel.”
“Truly it is a tragedy to see such nice clothes getting stained though,” Aziraphale admitted teasingly.
“S’why I usually wear black,” Crowley retorted with a grin, beginning to drive back to the bookshop.
Once they were back, Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to make his needs known. He tugged at the coat Crowley was wearing with some kind of childish frustration before it gave way and fell to the ground.
“Jeez angel I might have to scare you more often,” Crowley grinned, helping to undo the buttons of Aziraphale’s costume.
“Just wanna be near you,” He whined, his arms moving to rest on Crowley’s hips as he took a break to hug the demon, melting into his touch and enjoying the warmth.
Crowley stroked Aziraphale’s hair, gently swaying and enjoying the moment, until Aziraphale took charge again and insisted Crowley make his way to the bedroom at once, not before leaving a growing red mark on the demon’s collarbone.
Aziraphale is shocked that Crowley has memorised every single thing about him.
Aziraphale had never been to a haunted house. He’d had plenty of experience with the spooky but that was all for work reasons. The idea that someone would go and be scared for fun was absolutely ludicrous. It was somehow unsurprising that that is exactly what Crowley wanted to do, however.
Crowley had been excited about it all day, constantly reminding Aziraphale of how long there was until they were leaving. 6 hours, 5 hours, 2 hours… He had taken on this Halloween thing in his stride and he truly just wanted to do something he enjoyed with Aziraphale.
He decided to spring the fact that they would have to find costumes for this party on the Angel at the last minute. Originally Aziraphale was going to keep it classy and go as a classic book character. A Hamlet or the such. Crowley however was insistent that they should dress as each other with accurate detail.
Aziraphale gazed over at Crowley, looking at his napping on the lounge, his arms dangling off the sofa and a slight whisper of drool trickling down his chin. He inspected how the subtly patterned waistcoat hugged his body and how the tight jeans he always wore were like a second skin. There was no way Aziraphale could wear something like that, could he?
He went to the back room of the bookshop, simply to test his little theory out. He would never actually go out wearing anything like that. He snapped his fingers and felt as the denim began to hug his legs and how his whole ensemble suddenly went dark. The massive change was shocking enough but when he caught a glimpse of himself in the small desk mirror, he let out a tiny gasp, shocked at how entirely different he looked.
While at its core it was the same basic clothing, something about the black waistcoat and the dark undershirt made him feel like an entirely different man. Mysterious. Brooding. It almost made sense why Crowley was in a mood all the time. He just needed to borrow some of the demon's sunglasses and he’d be set.
He heard footsteps approaching and before he could miracle his clothes back to normal, hiding his experiment, there was a demon leaning on the doorframe letting out a low whistle.
“Looking good there angel,” Crowley teased lightly, sipping a glass of wine he must’ve poured himself, “You should wear that more often.”
“Oh shush you. I was just thinking about it,” He quickly explained, trying to hide the embarrassment on his face. He didn’t want to tell Crowley that in some ways it feels like he’d stepped into the demon's shoes or that wearing these clothes made him feel some kind of way.
“Look, let me give it a go,” Crowley grinned, placing his glass down before snapping his own fingers, changing into a tan and blue ensemble with a generous helping of tartan print, “What do you think, angel?”
Aziraphale stared at Crowley, admiring how the brown coat landed perfectly at his mid thigh and admiring how much more golden his eyes looked in this outfit. He was like the perfect picture of autumn with all the warmth of a cosy fire. Had he dared to utter any of this to Crowley though, he knew that he would immediately switch back. He could stare at Crowley forever, getting lost in each tiny detail like he was some kind of renaissance painting.
Aziraphale just reached out, his hands exploring the new clothes on his partner, taking note of every detail. It was all exactly like what Aziraphale would wear. Down to every tiny detail. Even things he didn’t think Crowley noticed like the glasses wipe sewn into the bottom of the coat. His hand lingered on the faux velvet of the waistcoat and he suddenly felt terribly emotional.
“Oh Angel what’s wrong? Do I look that bad?” Crowley asked in his unique teasing tone, trying to comfort Aziraphale. He gently wiped the angels forming tears away and cupped his chin to look into his eyes, “If you really don’t want to go Aziraphale, we don’t have to.”
Aziraphale shook his head and buried his face into Crowley’s chest, enjoying the sweet embrace of his partner. He even got his cologne perfect, “S’not that. I just-“ he sniffled, “I didn’t think you’d notice- I didn’t know you cared that much that’s all.”
The demon let out a breathy chuckle and stroked Aziraphale’s hair, trying to not muss up the perfect halo of curls up too badly, “How could I possibly promise that I love everything about you if I don’t pay attention to the details?”
“Crowley, I love you so much.”
Crowley hummed slightly and reached for Aziraphale’s hand, holding it close. As they swayed slightly, Crowley ran his finger along the metal wedding band Aziraphale’s finger housed. He locked their fingers together, enjoying the comfortable silence they found themselves resting in.
Aziraphale gently rubbed the gold chain around Crowley's neck between his fingers, looking deep at thought, “You know, I can’t wait until we get home after all this…”
Crowley got a knowing smirk on his face and planted a kiss on the top of his head, “Thinking about taking all this off already?”
Aziraphale’s embarrassment grew and he just pulled away from Crowley, dusting off his outfit and preparing to leave, “If I’m being you, my dear, does that mean I get to drive the Bentley?”
Aziraphale had never seen Crowley race to the car so quickly.
Aziraphale reflects on 1947 through a series of diary entries.
January 1st
Dear Diary,
Well, here I am, bringing in yet another earthy year alone in the bookshop but it feels different somehow. I am finding it ever so hard to get through these days, almost as if some of Crowley’s existentialism found its way to me. After learning about the tragedy in Japan I am struggling to see the good in things. The whole last year felt like such a terrible blur, possibly due to it. I didn’t know all that much about the place but the few times I popped in it truly was quite lovely. I’d always meant to ask Crowley if he had been. I think he would’ve quite liked it.
I’m worried Crowley might be more involved than he letting on. I haven’t seen him since the early years of the war and while I don’t want to believe it, I can’t fathom all of this being anything but Hell’s creation. Even if he wasn’t the conceiver, he could've been called down to Hell at any moment.
But surely Crowley wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t have killed those Nazis if that were the case. He certainly wouldn’t have saved my books.
He’s a confusing one, that wily serpent.
I do hope I see him soon.
A.Z Fell.
---
May 4th
Dear Diary,
I found myself rearranging the bookshop again today. While I did enjoy the Dewey system for a while I fear it’s all too convoluted for me these days. I spent a terribly long time trying to organise everything based on how I felt when I read them. It’s a shame that so many books made me feel all manner of things. I do suppose I have some more to learn in that regard. I will finish the rearranging tomorrow, I think. Hopefully with a clearer head too.
I saw an advertisement for a lovely film called A Miracle on 34th Street. It seemed to get good reviews in the paper as well. I might even consider seeing it if time allows.
I still haven’t heard from Crowley. As each day passes I begin to wonder if he still wants to take part in our arrangement. I wonder sometimes if he was called back down to Hell and hasn’t been allowed to return to Earth.
Another part of me, a part that makes me so terribly sad, is wondering if he was discorporated since I saw him last. I try to not linger on that thought for too long. I’m sure the demon will appear as soon as time allows. He always seems to.
A.Z. Fell
---
June 17th
Dear Diary,
It appears as though I am not the only one who has been faced with a sense of impending doom as of late. I’ve had numerous customers asking about a magazine (which I will never carry mind you!) that has some kind of doomsday clock on the cover. It seems as if the state of the world has caused many troubled thoughts amongst the humans as well. I’m still managing to hold on to the faith I have in God that this is all part of the plan.
I do just wish things weren’t so terribly dismal thought.
After doing more investigation into this doomsday phenomena, it seems as if the time of the clock is rather arbitrary. I do suppose that the almighty’s plan is ineffable, after all.
It seems much like the type of thing Crowley would be intrigued by. I purchased a copy of the magazine and I have it stashed away for when he returns.
I even managed to find some of that wine he likes so much.
A.Z Fell
---
June 30th
Dear Diary,
I found a new book for my collection today. It appears to be a diary, much like this one, but from a young girl during the war. I haven’t managed to finish it yet as it seems my Dutch is a little rustier than I anticipated but it’s truly something else. It feels important. I can’t help but listen to this young woman’s words, like she is desperate for someone to hear her.
Note: Order more copies of Het Achterhuis
They do say that tragedy is the greatest catalyst for art and these humans are terribly clever. I find myself wondering what they might come up with next. I just wish it didn’t take a war to do so. I have been praying more often, worried my faith is waning. I know I, a mere principality has no bearing on the ineffable plan but it’s getting harder and harder to see the bright side of all this. I do hope these blues that have overcome me will pass soon.
A.Z Fell
---
November 20th
Dear Diary,
Oh how fabulous it is to have these butterflies in my chest! I got to bless the most fabulous matrimony today of a young royal couple. I bestowed upon them all angelic gifts I could muster. I do hope they live a fabulous and joyous life.
It was simply delightful to have another assignment from Heaven come through. I was getting worried when things fell quiet but it appears things are well and truly returning to normal after all.
Well, as normal as they could be. Unfortunately there has still been no sign of the demon. I haven’t had to thwart any wiles recently. I pray he returns soon. I never thought I would ever miss the antics of a demon but my routine feels rather dull without the usual back and forth.
A.Z Fell
---
December 25th
Dear Diary,
This festive season has been absolutely wondrous. The decorations and traditions the humans have developed are simply beautiful and every year I get a chance to experience it all over again. I truly am the luckiest angel, it seems.
One of the lovely ladies from the shop down the road dropped of the most scrummy treats when she heard I’d be spending the day alone. She truly is a gem. I don’t mind it though. There’s enough joy in the air to please any angel.
I suppose I might have one ask. It may be hopeless but I do hope that wherever Crowley is, he is enjoying himself.
A.Z Fell
---
December 30th
Dear Diary,
I had the most wondrous visitor today. I never thought I would be relieved to see a demon but I’m oh so glad he popped in today. We might be going to the park later to ring in the new year. He tells me there’s something I simply must see. I do hope it’s not another statue of Gabriel.
I am so glad Crowley is home. Maybe 1948 will be the year that things turn around.
Crowley watches some scary movies with Aziraphale and enjoys watching the angel squirm.
With a bowl of popcorn at the ready and admittedly too many wine bottles, Crowley was prepared to show Aziraphale some of his favourite classic zombie films. This American thing called Halloween seemed to be generating some steam in England, and Crowley was keen to adopt the spirit. Aziraphale, significantly less enthralled by the creepy and the crawly, was not nearly as excited.
As the opening credits of a black-and-white zombie flick began to roll, Crowley reclined on the sofa, sipping his wine lazily straight from the bottle. Crowley had seen many of the films before, their cheap horror and gore effects no longer having the same lustre they once did.
Aziraphale, on the other hand, sat at the edge of his seat, his eyes barely peeking out from behind a cushion he clutched as if his life depended on it.
"Crowley, my dear, must we watch this?" Aziraphale's voice quivered with unease. He would’ve much rather watching anything else, or even read a good sci-fi book if it absolutely had to be spooky but he knew how excited Crowley was for this.
Crowley grinned, his snake eyes almost glowing in the dimly lit room. "Oh, come on, angel. It's all in good fun. It's not real, you know."
Aziraphale reluctantly lowered the cushion but kept one eye on the screen. He couldn't help but flinch at the special effects and the zombie hordes, “Looks awfully real.”
“Oh angel, this is nothing,” Crowley laughed, taking a small amount of pleasure in the angel’s anguish.
As the movie progressed, the tension in the room mounted. Aziraphale occasionally sought refuge in his wine glass, taking larger sips as the fear grew. Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves engrossed in the marathon of B-rated films Crowley had prepared for the evening. Aziraphale, still much more afraid than he would dare to mutter out loud, shifted closer to Crowley on the sofa. Crowley, pretty quickly getting what he was after, moved to hold his arm around Aziraphale as a small token of comfort.
By the time the credits rolled on the last film, Aziraphale was quite ready to read a good book and pretend none of this happened, “Well, that was…something.”
Crowley grinned, pouring another glass of wine. "See? I knew you'd come around eventually. Maybe we'll make a horror aficionado out of you yet."
Aziraphale chuckled unsurely, sipping what was left of his fourth glass of wine. "Well, if we’re going to do this again I think I should at least get a say in the movies we watch. Something less brainy, perhaps."
Crowley raised his glass in a celebratory fashion, glad to have slowly started to chip away at Aziraphale’s tough exterior. "To embracing the spooky and the supernatural, even if it takes a bit of wine and some company to do it."
After a brief pause, Crowley reached for the remote control. He switched from horror movies to a different set of films, and the Disney logo soon began to play on the screen. He scrolled down to find a film he knew that Aziraphale would love.
Aziraphale's eyes widened with surprise and delight as he recognized the familiar films. "Oh, Crowley, you sly demon. Are you trying to redeem yourself with Disney now? You know how I love Hocus Pocus."
Crowley grinned, his arm still around Aziraphale. "Well, angel, I thought it might be a good idea to end the evening on a lighter note. After all, it's Halloween, and what better way to celebrate than with some Disney enchantment?"
Aziraphale settled back into the sofa, a genuine smile on his face as he watched the familiar film. It was one he’d watched with Crowley many times before during some of their other quiet nights in. A few more viewings and he could probably recite it. He leaned into Crowley's comforting embrace, feeling safe and content.
By the end, Aziraphale was fully curled up into Crowley’s form, gently humming along to the song playing throughout the credits. His little murmurs brought a smile to Crowley’s face and he reached to fuss with the angel’s curls.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Crowley teased, watching as Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut.
With his eyes still closed, he retorted, “Shut it, you wily serpent.”
Crowley just enjoyed the comfortable silence, letting the previews play through on the screen as they sat. Their bottles of wine had since been discarded and snacks abandoned but the demon didn’t mind. He was just thankful for these moments. After all they’d been through, there was always some kind of anxiety that they were running around of time.
Aziraphale didn’t seem as worried about the development as he fell into a light sleep, small snores barely escaping his pink lips. Crowley gently trailed his fingers along the angel’s soft skin, enjoying each delicate touch. He eventually reached over and turned on his favourite film.
It was a guilty pleasure and if anyone brought it up he would deny it to Hell and back but as he saw the opening credits of Encanto begin to play, he almost felt himself tearing up pre-emptively.
It shouldn’t have made him so emotional but somewhere in the pit of his darkened heart, it touched him. The last time he watched it with Aziraphale, they were both sobbing messes by the end. As Crowley’s favourite song came on, he began singing softly, still softly fussing with his lover’s hair. The language, while still a little bit rusty, came back naturally to him.
Dos oruguitas enamoradas
Pasan sus noches y madrugadas
Llenas de hambre, siguen andando
Y navegando un mundo
Que cambia y sigue cambiando
Navegando un mundo
Que cambia y sigue cambiando
Aziraphale tries to teach the demon a lesson after their interaction with Job. It's definitely not self-serving.
(Written with the assistance of AI)
Crowley didn’t mind the goats all the much really. And while it had technically been an order from Hell, his heart just wasn’t really in it. That was the real reason he turned them into birds. Nothing else.
It had nothing to do with the look in the angel’s eyes when he told him what he was to do and it certainly had nothing to do with a nagging guilt that had been following him since the flood. He was just following orders in a slightly more unconventional way.
After his little display, however, Aziraphale was determined to exact his own justice. He knew exactly how to tug on the demon’s heartstrings and after their fuss with Job, he took Crowley out to a small settlement where a young shepherd was struggling with rowdy goats, floating apart in the paddocks.
The young boy looked distressed, his left hand raised over his eyes to try and block out the sun as he called out to one of the more adventurous goats that had wandered off.
“What do you need me to do? You can just miracle it back it it’s pen, you know?” Crowley asked cynically, preparing to snap his fingers to fix the problem.
Aziraphale stopped him with a knowing smile, “Not this time Crowley. You’re going to go and give him a hand the proper way. The human way.”
The demon let out a long, low growl before heading off. It couldn’t be that hard. As Crowley approached the skittish goat, it began to dart off in the opposite direction, further away from the pasture it called home.
The demon let out a hefty sigh before trying to catch up again.
Aziraphale sat back, watching from an aged oak tree atop a hill. He watched as Crowley hopelessly dashed after the goat, all his limbs flailing frantically in the distance. It would’ve been a very quick job had they done it the way they usually did but this was significantly more fun for Aziraphale.
As Crowley chased the elusive goat, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of frustration. This was hardly the kind of task he enjoyed. He preferred manipulating and causing chaos from behind the scenes, not chasing after wayward livestock.
The young shepherd watched in amazement as the strange man, Crowley, continued his unconventional pursuit of the goat. He watched, torn between laughter and sympathy for the demon's plight.
Meanwhile, Aziraphale, perched comfortably in the shade of the oak tree, couldn't suppress a mischievous grin. He had expected this reaction from Crowley. The angel was determined to teach the demon a lesson, to show Crowley that Hell’s way was not the way forward.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Crowley managed to corner the goat near a small cottage. He slowly approached the animal, extending a gentle hand, almost as if he was trying to approach a wild creature.
Crowley's cynical expression softened, and for a brief moment, he felt a connection with the creature he'd been chasing for so long. He almost felt bad for his previous plight, even if the goats hadn’t been harmed. Going from frolicking in a field to flying in the skies must have been quite the shock.
As Crowley returned the goat to the shepherd, Aziraphale descended from the hill. The angel wore a knowing smile, having achieved his mission.
Crowley glanced at Aziraphale and admitted, "Alright, angel, you've made your point. Maybe there's something to this 'human way' after all."
And as the sun set over the serene countryside, the demon and the angel walked side by side, sharing a newfound appreciation for the subtleties of life.
They both knew that they were likely going to be summoned by their respective sides soon to answer for their misdoings in the Job saga but for now, things felt painfully simply. As the setting sun painted the horizon in a spattering of oranges and yellows, Crowley couldn’t shake the pride he had in Aziraphale.
“You did the right thing, you know,” The demon assured looking out over the fields ahead.
Aziraphale took a moment to respond, negotiating with his own thoughts and insecurities, “But what if you weren’t there?” He asked timidly.
Crowley sighed and tried to reassure the angel, “Do you really think you would’ve done anything different?” He asked simply.
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I don’t think I had much to do with it at all,” Crowley admitted, searching in his robes for pockets before shoving his hands in. He was absently kicking a stone along the ground, watching as it tumbled along the gravel path.
“I guess I just wish I was a little bit more sure,” Aziraphale admitted. There was still that fear in his chest that Crowley would drag him down to hell and he’d be stripped of every angelic part of him. He was too afraid to believe he’d be okay because it would just hurt more when he was inevitably betrayed.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Crowley asked, turning to face Aziraphale, “I told you that I didn’t think angels could do the wrong thing. I still believe that.”
“But Heaven’s done some rotten things. As we’ve made so many missteps-”
“Heaven might haven sure. But you Aziraphale, you haven’t. You’re one of the few people left who are truly angelic. The rest are just soulless zombies.” Crowley assured, a slight juvenile tone in his voice, “They could learn a thing or two from you.”
Aziraphale hummed slightly, not entirely convinced by the whole exchange but inexplicably soothed by the demon’s words nonetheless. He couldn’t help but wonder why Crowley always seemed to do the right thing too, then, if it was an angel’s mission.
“Angel you’re thinking so hard I can hear you from here,” Crowley teased.
“What about you?” Aziraphale blurted out, “Why do you do the right thing?”
“I was an angel once too,” Was the only response Crowley gave.
Aziraphale struggles to keep the attention of a bunch of sugar-hyped children. Luckily he has just the solution.
Aziraphale probably didn’t know it but Crowley was at every single official magic show he had done. If it had been anyone else they’d assume it was Fell the Marvelous’ biggest fan. Instead, Crowley was quite permanently resigned to ‘that shady one that’s always with Mr Fell’. A glorified assistant of sorts.
Crowley didn’t mind all that much, really. It meant he could stay watch and ensure Aziraphale wouldn’t try something as foolish as the bullet catch again without his knowing. He’d suggested a few ideas, far too many of which involved Aziraphale pretending to be sawn in half. He was always keen to perform his magic tricks.
Like today. The angel had gotten wind that a party princess had gotten in a pickle and wouldn’t be able to arrive. When he was first telling Crowley this, the demon had assumed that Aziraphale would do his magic act and they would still have time to go out for dinner afterwards.
What Crowley hadn’t realised was that Fell the Marvelous was simply an introduction to the new party princess who was currently in a stranger’s bathroom attempting to inconspicuously get ready.
Crowley was quite glad he could simply miracle up a new outfit for himself. One of the few benefits of being a demon meant he could control his corporation to the smallest detail which is how he was sat in a much more petite and significantly more feminine body, his hair draped over his shoulder to end comfortably at his waist.
He had a long, flowing pink dress on and was staring at the mirror, trying to remember the singular time he had watched The Little Mermaid to try and copy the mermaid princess’ mannerisms. He spent more time, however, cursing Aziraphale for volunteering him for this.
He exited the bathroom and as he entered the quaint garden where the party was held, all attention was drawn from the magic act to the princess now entering. If he wasn’t so mad at Aziraphale, Crowley might have had the sense to feel bad for taking the attention.
“ARIEL!” A gaggle of excited children screamed, running over to drape themselves all over the now slightly concerned Crowley. One jumped on his back and Crowley panicked, wrapping his arms around the young girl's legs in a makeshift piggyback arrangement.
Aziraphale just watched, a small laugh caught in his throat as the children gleefully climbed over Crowley. The birthday girl had immediately run to hug Crowley’s arm, deciding then and there that she wasn’t about to let go of her favourite princess.
“Ariel, come and see my presents!” She giggled excitedly, dragging the demon by the arm towards a table absolutely brimming with presents. She took her time detailing every feature of every Barbie doll and every single stuffed toy. Crowley made sure to smile and nod at the appropriate times, giving the birthday girl all the attention deserved.
Crowley had enough sense to send a glare Aziraphale’s way in the adventure.
The magician made quick work of packing up his field kit, his hat and handkerchiefs all delicately returned to their travel case. He accepted many thankful remarks from the party parents before he helped himself to some finger sandwiches, at the parent’s request.
Crowley had now been sat on a comically small garden chair, the sides pressing into the sides of his legs at uncomfortable angles while a bunch of the girls attempted to braid his hair. Amongst all this, the demon was cradling a picture book, reading the story of Ariel to the sugar-fuelled monsters that centred around him.
“Can we sing a song, Ariel?”
Crowley’s face went white and he whipped around to stare at Aziraphale who just gave an an overly enthusiastic thumbs up.
That’s how the demon ended up singing Disney songs to a bunch of kids in a makeshift singalong. It seemed like no one was singing the same lyrics but no one cared, everyone seemed to be having fun. Even Crowley seemed to be enjoying himself.
The demon didn’t get a break from the kids until cake was served and as soon as Crowley could catch a breath he stormed over to Aziraphale, “Is this fun for you?” He growled
Aziraphale laughed and tenderly placed a hand on the small of Crowley’s back, “You make a gorgeous princess, my dear.”
“I’m never coming to a magic show with you again,” He half-heartedly threatened.
“Oh dear, we both know that’s not true,” The angel smiled, reaching down to grab Crowley’s hand.
“You’re right,” Crowley whined.
Ariel and Fell the Marvelous bid everyone farewell, not before gifting the birthday girl with a fabulous toy set. Crowley knew better than to ask where Aziraphale managed to get it from. Once they were back in the Bentley, Crowley willed away the changes to his corporation and let out a long, relieved breath. He stretched out his arms and rolled his shoulders back, feeling comfortable once again.
“It’s hard work, being a princess,” He murmured, reaching over to turn some music on.
Aziraphale hummed in agreement before continuing, “You know, those kids loved you.”
“They loved Ariel.”
“Well yes but you’re the one who brought her to life. Maybe you should do it more often,” The angel suggested eagerly. He was hardly going to turn down the opportunity to spend more time with Crowley. Especially if it was an excuse to do more magic.
“I’ll think about it,” Crowley assured, leaning back into the leather seat and beginning to drive.
“Should’ve kept the dress on for dinner,” Aziraphale teased, “I rather liked it. It suits you.”
“Pink’s not really my colour.” He muttered, filing that tidbit of information away for another day.
Crowley discovers his soft side on an unconventional assignment from Hell and lives to tell the tale to Aziraphale years later.
Crowley had found himself in quite an interesting situation. Things had been painfully dull on Earth since Jesus’ crucifixion and he was craving something new to do. That’s how he ended up getting assigned to work in the beasts' department for a six-month stint while another demon was predisposed to causing havoc on Earth.
Right now, he was cradling what was one day going to be a large, vicious hellhound in his arms and watching as its tail wagged eagerly for a small taste of the puppy milk he had in a bottle in his other hand.
“Aren’t you a cutie, little Dondun?” Crowley cooed, gently scratching behind the dog’s ears.
Crowley would die inside if anyone saw him like this but he couldn’t help but melt in the presence of a litter of puppies, even if they were Hellhounds. This one in particular held a special place in his heart. He was the runt of a little of 3 and had been entirely abandoned by his mother. Crowley spent all his time with the little one, willing it to grow up lovely and strong.
Over the next month, Crowley would nurture and play with the puppy but he seemed stunted. The demon wouldn’t admit it but he was really worried about him. He was barely half the size of his brothers and Crowley knew if he didn’t improve soon, his life would be short-lived.
“Come on Donnie, you gotta eat,” Crowley sighed, nudging the bowl of demonic kibble towards the weak dog.
Today was particularly bad. Dondun hadn’t even moved all day, curled up in the far corner of the kennel, shaking in the cool. Crowley gently ran his hand along the back of the dog, slowly resigning himself to the fact that Dondun likely wouldn’t survive the night despite his best efforts.
He picked up the puppy and cradled him as he had many times before, gently petting his head and a few tears began to streak his cheeks, “I’ve got you, Donnie. You go when you’re good and ready.”
Crowley spent the entire night there with the puppy. Dondun took his final raspy breath in the demon’s arms and for the next week, Crowley was numb.
---
It had taken a very long time for Crowley to forget about Donnie. He swore off ever caring about dogs ever again, deciding it was too cruel to trust an animal with his heart.
Aziraphale however, was not aware of this fact when he brought home a bright eyed, fluffy-tailed Border Collie that he’d adopted on a whim. The dog sat obediently at the door to the bookshop, just behind Aziraphale and Crowley could see the dog's big brown eyes that felt so familiar
The dog let out a small yap before breaking past Aziraphale to run to Crowley. Surprised by this, Crowley jumped up, prepared to defend himself from the attacker.
Instead, the dog just licked Crowley’s hand and its tail was wagging excitedly.
The demon bent down to meet the dog at its level. It didn’t take any major miracle to see what was happening. Behind the dog's eyes were the remnants of the soul of a small hellhound that never got to see the world. Behind this Collie’s eyes were the remaining shards of Donnie.
The emotions returned as a flood and Crowley couldn’t hide the tears from Aziraphale as he held the dog in a haphazard hug, his hand gently mussing up the fur around the Collie’s neck.
“Well, it seems like you two will get on just swimmingly!” Aziraphale gushed.
“It’s like I’ve known him my whole life,” Crowley chuckled slightly between the tears, scratching the rough fur around his neck, “We’ve been together since the start, haven’t we Donnie?”
Aziraphale was confused at that, having not even named the dog himself but he was just so pleased to see Crowley being actually vulnerable for once, he didn’t want to interrupt. The Collie was all over Crowley, having now pinned him on the floor of the bookshop to scatter licks all over the demon’s face.
Aziraphale thought that Crowley would surely put a stop to this any moment now.
But he didn’t.
Crowley knew about reincarnation, everyone did, but he didn’t assume it extended to things like hellhounds. He would’ve thought they’d be labelled as too devious to deserve a second life yet here Dondun was, in front of him with those same big eyes and the same excitement, just a different body. He even yapped like the little hellhound he knew.
“Where did you find him?” Crowley asked slowly, suddenly fearing his companion would be cruelly ripped away from him once again.
“In the shelter!” Aziraphale declared proudly. He originally went looking for a cat after seeing one in a cafe that he was doting over but once he met the excitable dog he simply couldn’t resist, “I thought the bookshop could use a little more life.”
“I can’t believe you’d ever volunteer to get something that could hurt your precious books,” Crowley laughed weakly, wrapping his arms around the dog.
“Well I had planned to train him but it seems he’s taken quite a liking to you already. And you already gave him a name!” The angel fussed playfully.
“It’s always been his name. Dondun. Donnie is much nicer though,” Crowley corrected.
“Always?” The angel queried.
That’s how Crowley ended up sitting down with Aziraphale and Donnie and explaining his brief stint in the Beasts department. He told Aziraphale all about Donnie’s mother and how he was abandoned. He recounted the late nights he spent nursing the pup and he also recalled the heartbreak of Donnie’s death.
The angel and the demon housed many dogs in the bookshop after that point. Many breeds, all living entirely different lives but each one had the same big brown eyes. It always hurt when another pup would eventually leave their lives but Crowley held the small comfort in his heart that Donnie would always find his way back home, their souls irrevocably linked.
Adam learns the true identity of the quaint bookseller in Soho, inching closer to the answers he seeks.
(Continuation from day 23)
Aziraphale was stunned by the question and took a moment to answer, “My father was, yes. Can I ask what all this is about?”
“We think our friend Adam sees your Dad in his dreams!” One of the kids laughed.
Aziraphale felt some sense of relief wash over him, “Adam, was it? May I talk to him privately?”
There was some shuffling on the other end of the line before it eventually went quiet. After a minute or so, he answered, “This is Adam.”
---
“Oh Adam, it’s lovely to hear your voice again. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you. My name is Aziraphale. We met not long after your 11th birthday.” The kind old man explained.
“My 11th birthday? That’s when The Dream started!” Adam noted, a newfound confidence in his voice, “Maybe you can help me. I’ve been having this dream where there's a whole bunch of people and a big red monster and the world is ending.”
Adam heard the man let out a sigh before be began to explain, “Well you see Adam, when you were younger, there was almost a big war that happened. Your memory was supposed to be wiped afterwards but it seems as if it failed at some point. It’s very possible that some of the people you remember are myself and my dear friend Crowley.”
Adam tested the names on his tongue, “Aziraphale and Crowley. You wouldn’t happen to be…”
Adam struggled to find the right words. It was hardly the done thing to go around and ask if people were ethereal beings but Adam needed to know. This could’ve been the only chance he had to get more information.
“Do you have wings?” Adam sputtered unsurely.
Aziraphale laughed softly, his beaming smile almost able to be heard through the phone, “Yes, my dear. I must say we do.”
Adam just about dropped the phone in shock as the puzzle pieces started to come together. He remembered the angel and the demon, and remembered the kind words they said to him. He could almost remember another angel and demon as well but they weren’t nearly as friendly.
Whatever happens, for good or for evil... we're beside you.
“Why did my memory get wiped though? Why couldn’t I remember you?” He asked unsurely, feeling some kind of pang in his chest at the lost connection. It’s like he found out a part of him had been missing that he didn’t even remember having lost.
“Everyone did, dear. It was just what had to happen for humanity to return to normal.”
“So…You saved the world? And I was there?” Adam tempted, hoping to clear the rest of the fuzziness that had been plaguing his brain for years.
“Adam, you saved the world.”
He simply couldn’t believe it. Saving the world isn’t something that you just did one afternoon and forgot about. Its the type of thing people won big shiny gold trophies for or got oversized keys to the city for doing. If Adam had truly saved the world, why did no one remember?
“Adam? Are you still there my boy?” The angel asked softly from the other end of the phone.
“I think I need to go now, Mr Fell. Thank you for your help.”
Adam abruptly hung up the call and handed the phone back to Pepper. He scooped up his belongings and stormed out of the library. He needed to go to the woods and collect his thoughts. He knew there was a chance of The Them following him but he couldn’t be in any enclosed spaces. It felt like his head was about to explode.
As he sat on a raised tree root in the Hogback Woods, he was almost overwhelmed by the intense deja vu. He could remember the perfect weather on the airbase that day that was in many ways tainted by the licks of sulphuric residue in the air. He could almost remember his father’s car driving up the runway to tell him off. And The Them were there with him.
“Aziraphale….Crowley….” He tested these names on his tongue, his brain struggling to get around the ideas. He had a few more of the puzzle pieces yet somehow he still couldn’t see the full picture and it was simply infuriating.
Dog was lightly licking Adam’s leg, having settled to laying beside him. Adam was resigned to the fact that he may just have to go see this bookseller after all. He just needed to find some reason for his father to need to go to London. Certainly easier than done.
Adam raced home and burst into the house, Dog eagerly prancing behind him. As he slammed the door open, Arthur was shocked at his son’s urgency.
“You alright, Adam?”
Adam huffed and puffed, taking a moment to regain his breath before answering, “We need to go to London.”
“London? God my boy, why would you want to do that?” He asked, pouring a glass of cool water for his son.
“Bookstore. Someone there we have to meet,” Adam panted slowly, before taking the glass of water and downing it quickly. That helped him regain some of his composure, “There’s a man at a bookstore I want to meet.”
“I mean if it’s truly that important we might be able to make the trip over the weekend but are you sure? It’s a bit of a drive. Surely we could just pop into Reading?”
Adam shook his head. “Specific bookshop, specific man.”
Arthur let out a sigh and took the glass from Adam, “I’ll have to ask your mother, you know.”
Adam nodded before racing back upstairs, prepared to spent yet another night researching. But he had a lead tonight. A particularly angelic one, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was finally close to getting some of the answers he was desperately seeking.
i.e. the first good omens I ever wrote after watching the show.
Aziraphale left an angel shaped hole in Crowley’s chest. As he attempts to quell his anguish in the form of disposable human lovers, he’s forced to confront the feelings he still has for that one bloody angel.
Words: 1487
As the early morning rose and the first drops of the day's rain began to fall, Crowley looked beside him to see his current fixation, Zeke, reading beside him.
Reading. Crowley scowled at the thought.
He hadn't meant to make a habit of popping in and out of human lives. It wasn’t all that fun, interfering in their affairs, but with the angel gone, being evil didn’t have the same ring to it.
Part of him hoped that in his slew of lovers he’d find another man with the same soft touch. The kind of man who would forgive all his shortcomings and who he could truly be happy with.
Unfortunately, humans could never fill that niche. They were fun for a while though.
With a dramatic stretch the demon wrapped an arm around his human companion and read over his shoulder.
“What have we got today? Dragons? Spicy romance? Maybe a murder mystery?” He teased.
Zeke just shut the book and placed it on the bedside table before he took off his glasses. The wide black frames rested on top of the book, whose cover simply read ‘Dire’ in an overbearing stone font.
“Are you staying for breakfast?”
The demon grinned before sitting up, pulling the grey duvet up to give him some shelter from the crisp London air.
“What, and start now?”
“Figures.” Zeke huffed. He turned from Crowley and stared out of the window for a moment, watching the birds fly past. For a moment, Zeke thinks he heard a nightingale but before he can confirm, the sound of traffic returns.
Crowley snaked his arms around Zeke’s waist, melting into the warmth of his partner like a lizard basking in the warm sun. He kissed Zeke’s jaw and joins him in looking out over the city.
“Horrid place, isn’t it? Never liked London really.”
Even the word felt wrong on his tongue. Regardless of the poor weather or the constant noise, London felt soulless. Like a light had gone out and no one had bothered to reignite the flame.
The sounds of the street fill the apartment for a while, the two laying idly by in the meantime. The longer they sat and stared, the heavier the previously light rain seemed to get. The quiet patter of the raindrops on the windowsill forced a sigh out of Zeke who turned to face Crowley.
For just a moment, he is distracted by the red hair and the ghoulish grin and snake eyes almost melt away. For a moment, Zeke can almost see the man he fell in love with. This turbulence caused great upset in the man’s stomach and the low growl that followed was enough to get Crowley’s attention.
As soon as the demon opened his mouth, his caring appearance phased away and Zeke was reminded of the monster who laid across from him.
“I best leave you to sort that.”
Despite his proclamation, Crowley made no attempt to move, instead settling further into the bedding while finally releasing Zeke from his grasp.
Zeke has seen this routine all before. He used to let himself get his hopes up and would pray that the morning would go differently. That this time, he would stay. He’d tried everything from home-cooked meals to special morning gifts even just spooning the man and hoping he wouldn’t leave.
“Look, Crowley I have a big day at work and I don’t have time to sit here with you. I’m sure there’s some big important demon business you need to be doing.”
Crowley let out a low laugh before running a hand through his partner's hair.
“You always make me sound so heartless.”
Zeke had grown frustrated by this point. He felt months of anger bubbling up inside of him. He had never been the type to blow up at someone but as he felt the presence of that demon in his bed his heart was almost beating out of his chest and for a split second he wished he could hurt him.
But Crowley was untouchable. A constant. Everything that was so intoxicating about dating an immortal in the first place had become a prison locking Zeke in this cycle of never being enough for Crowley. It was obvious that his wasn’t the only pot the snake had been dipping into. But deep down a part of him would always hold onto hope that he could be the only thing Crowley needs, even if it was only for a measly 60 years or so.
“Look, you know I have things to do. Hell doesn’t wait for anyone you know. I promise, soon we’ll have a day that’s just us and there’ll be no pesky human shenanigans to interrupt us. A whole day all about you and me.”
“Crowley, it’s never about us.” Zeke snapped.
The man leapt out of the bed, his bare torso becoming victim to the cool air. He looked back at Crowley, now sprawled out on the bed in front of him.
“It was never going to be, was it?”
“Now now, where’s all this coming from?”
Crowley moved to cross his legs under the duvet, the same frustrating devilish grin plastered across his features.
“You and I both know that I’m not the only one. I don’t know where you go every second night but I know that I can’t just keep being your side piece. You might have eternity but I don’t, and I’m sure as hell not going to waste it on someone who doesn’t care about me!”
Zeke storms around the bedroom, picking up his wrinkled clothes from the floor. The action felt rehearsed and there was a depressing rhythm to it, in a way.
“What do you mean I don’t care about you? I have given you everything. Night and day, all my free time has been here with you!”
Crowley leapt out of bed, the sheets remaining as a distant memory of their time together. He moved between Zeke and the doorway, before holding his partner’s shoulders.
“I have nothing more to give.” The demon laments.
Zeke sighed and looked into Crowley’s eyes. He gets lost, for a moment, remembering the long nights that lead up to this point. He remembers the crisp taste of straight whiskey on those lips and the feel of his cool touch. He almost lets himself forget the heartache.
“That’s the thing, Crowley. You have all this to give, but it means nothing to you. What’s a year to someone who's already seen six thousand? What’s a few one-night stands to someone whose entire love life looks like a blip on some bigger picture?” Zeke paused for a moment before deciding to continue.
“You have forever to mess around with anyone on the street yet you make me feel heartless for asking for your undivided attention, for just one singular page in your story.”
He wandered out of his bedroom, looking for somewhere to escape. He cursed himself for a moment with the realisation sinking in that he couldn’t run away from his own home.
Curse demons and their minimalist design style.
“One day, Crowley, you’re going to have to realise that you can’t finish a puzzle if one piece is always going to be missing.”
Crowley growls slightly, staring at his lover in the hall in front of him.
“What the bloody hell are you on about now?”
Zeke sighs and pulls his shirt over his head.
“You’re searching for something you can’t have. You take men like me and drain us dry all to fill a void that you and I both know is impossible to fill. It’s like there’s these insurmountable expectations you have of everyone. I don’t know how anyone could even reach the standards you have laid out. But you keep looking so someone must have. So who is it?”
The demon pauses for a moment, stunned by the human’s abruptness. It wasn’t like his partners to question him. Usually they’d just grow apart and call it a day.
“Who?” The demon sputtered. “Look I’ve got no idea what’s gotten into you all of a sudden. I mean we were all happy families until a moment ago.”
For a moment, Crowley allows himself to remember and allows the fond memories he’d repressed into the deeper corners of his mind.
It's hard to ignore the unmistakable scent of thousands of books or the warmth in his stomach when he thinks of his former lover. He longs to forget the dusty old bookshop and the kind man who called it home.
‘Just a friend’ he would say any time he slipped up.
Just a friend who made his heart beat faster. A friend who held him tighter than anyone ever had before. A friend who was always there. Always.
“What’s his name?” Zeke offered as a final olive branch.
“Aziraphale.”
That’s one thing eternity teaches you. Nothing lasts forever.
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