Just imagine that Crowley went home after he found out Aziraphale died in the burning Bookshop. He took a bottle of alcohol and sat down on his chair. He drank a lot - always Aziraphale in mind.
“The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch” lay on the table - he didn’t knew there are prophecies in it. Maybe there was a prophecy inside who could have told him, that Aziraphale wasn’t dead - or maybe not because Agnes knew Crowley would not read it.
His bottle was only half full and he thought about Aziraphale. About the good and the bad times they had in all the 6000 years. He didn’t cry. A demon does not cry. And yet he was so ineffable sad. Ineffable. Most likely that was Aziraphales favourite word…
“And when I am off in the stars, I will not even think about you!”Â
This were his last words to Aziraphale. Oh, there was so much more that he wanted to tell him. But now he could not do it anymore…
Then he remembered the time his angle gave him the holy water. It was an act of confidence that Crowley would only use it for emergencies.Â
He did. The holy water killed Ligur. He thought he would need everything of the holy water. But he didn’t. He had something left.
Crowley walked to the fake painting of Mona Lisa and opened the safe behind it, put the bottle outside and went back to his chair. He looked to the Bottle with the holy water in it. With this liquid he could kill himself easily.
What does he has to lose? He already lost Aziraphale. And what is a life without his angel?
Maybe he should just kill himself. Armageddon is coming and nothing can stop it.
But then he remembered Aziraphale again. Aziraphale with his soft smile. His adorable appearance. Aziraphale who tries everything to safe the earth. Afraid that Crowley might die. Aziraphale. His enemy. His best friend. His Yin to Crowleys Yang. His angel.
What would Aziraphale think about him?
No, he can’t do it. He just can’t. Aziraphale trusted him. He trusted him that Crowley would be careful with the holy water. He trusted him. He trusted a demon. No. He can’t do it. Not with the worried face of his angel in his mind.
He took the bottle and put it back into the safe. He would go to bed now. Even if he does not have to sleep. He needs to relax, to calm down, to overthink everything.
Tomorrow he would go to a pub or something like that. Maybe he can just keep going. Enjoy the rest of the days on earth. But he knew that sooner or later he would not be able to live that way anymore.Â
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