Chapter Text
Prologue: The Beginning of the Journey
Aziraphale had always been a peculiar angel. He never fit in with the other angels. He cared a little too much, was a little too curious. It made him a bit of an outsider. As he grew and moved up in the ranks, he learned to mask the things that made him different, that made him stand out. Mostly.
The light-haired angel only ever met one other angel who seemed to share a similar curiosity and awe, who didn’t look at him with disdain, a beautiful red-haired star maker. Aziraphale had been on his own, as he usually was, when he suddenly heard a lovely voice call out, “Excuse me?”
Aziraphale went to the voice and was instantly taken with the angel whose eyes twinkled like the stars that would soon come into existence. He had helped him create a galaxy. Aziraphale felt something that he would later learn was happiness. It was peaceful out here in the nebula, and he finally had company. Dare he say a friend? This red-haired angel was unlike any other angel Aziraphale had met. And he welcomed Aziraphale’s company. It was nice. When the first meteor shower started, the red-haired angel extended a wing over Aziraphale to protect him from the debris and Aziraphale moved a little closer to him, watching in awe the beauty they were surrounded by. It was nowhere near as beautiful as the joy on the star-maker’s face.
Their paths only crossed once and then the war broke out. Aziraphale heard the red-haired angel had been among the fallen, those who were sent to hell. It made the blond angel rather sad. To think of such a joyful soul in the squalor of hell, unable to see the stars he loved so much, was almost too painful to imagine.
When Aziraphale was promoted to principality, it seemed to be the perfect role for an angel as strange as he. While most angels were completely uninterested in Earth and her inhabitants, Aziraphale was excited to have a change of scenery. He was a little nervous about the possible dangers that might await him, but to be tasked with watching over God’s most beloved creations, humans, was truly a great honor.
When Aziraphale arrived in Eden, he felt an odd sensation. He would later learn it was love. Most angels could sense good and evil in various ways, but only Aziraphale seemed to be able to sense love. He liked it. There was something so pleasant and warm about it.
He took his duty very seriously but also found himself growing attached to the two human inhabitants in the garden. They were so flawed and yet so wonderful. Their attachment to each other was something that fascinated Aziraphale. He felt an instant bond to them, even though he watched them from afar, their unseen protector. The love that blossomed between them made the garden feel more welcoming to Aziraphale. He found he didn’t miss heaven at all and hoped to remain there for eternity.
But Eden would be the first time Aziraphale learned good things rarely lasted forever. After the temptation happened, Aziraphale stood on the wall watching his beloved humans brave the dangerous world outside the walls of the garden, his heart aching. He didn’t even have a chance to feel lonely. He was much too sad and shed tears for the humans, whom he had grown quite attached to. The garden seemed so empty now.
Yet he still sensed love in Eden. He chalked it up to its divine creation.
Then the serpent joined him, taking on its normal form of a demon.
It took Aziraphale a moment to recognize the former star maker. It had been many years since the creation of the nebula. His red hair was longer and perhaps a shade darker, his eyes were a beautiful gold color, and his wings were black. While most angels felt a natural revulsion towards demons, Aziraphale was too distracted by concern for the former inhabitants of the garden.
He and the demon, Crawley, conversed on the wall. Aziraphale felt comforted by the company, strange as he was. Heaven could be so lonely at times. When the storm clouds opened and rain started falling, Aziraphale didn’t even think twice before extending his wing to protect Crawley from the storm. The demon smiled, a genuine smile, and moved closer, taking shelter under the angel’s wing. Aziraphale wondered if he was lonely too.
They stood there for hours, even after the thunderstorm passed and the moon rose in the sky. Crawley looked up to the stars, smiling faintly. Aziraphale wondered if he often thought of the stars after falling.
_*_
Aziraphale tried to remain indifferent to suffering. After all, the most important rule for angels was to never interfere with humans. They could watch, they could occasionally guide, but they could never actively interfere. Yet as a Principality, he had a natural protectiveness towards what he was assigned to protect.
Earth was his jurisdiction, so naturally Aziraphale developed a protectiveness of the planet and all who dwelt within her. It made him even more of an outcast among angels. While he was too scared to admit it, Aziraphale started to feel more comfortable on Earth than he did in heaven. He chalked it up to how much time he spent there. Still, he found he genuinely liked humans.
There was only one other celestial being who seemed to share his affection for humans: the demon, Crawley.
Aziraphale found it peculiar. Demons were supposed to be creatures of pure evil, damned souls who existed only to thwart the will of the Almighty, to destroy all that was good. Yet the more he encountered Crawley, who later went by Crowley, the more Aziraphale realized that belief might not be true. While he certainly enjoyed causing mischief and mayhem on occasion, Crowley never did anything Aziraphale would term evil.
The demon was horrified at the great flood. He remained with Aziraphale in the aftermath. Neither said anything much, there was nothing to say, but Aziraphale was grateful for the company. When he shed tears for the lost, Crowley pretended not to notice, but moved a little closer. The angel couldn’t help but notice the demon looked sad at the enormous loss of life.
He helped Aziraphale protect Job and his family. The angel didn’t believe Crowley was capable of what he said he was there to do, though the demon put on a good enough show that the angel worried for half a second. But the jig was up once the angel found the unharmed goats. Crowley was quite annoyed that Aziraphale had seen through his front, but begrudgingly helped him. The angel was rather pleased at being right (he couldn’t resist gloating just a little bit, which he knew infuriated Crowley). Later as they watched over Job’s hidden children, Crowley introduced Aziraphale to the delicious foods found on Earth.
Aziraphale witnessed Crowley actively protect Job’s wife from the angels, when she would have blasphemed and likely incurred divine retribution. After seeing that, Aziraphale began to suspect Crowley cared about humans as much as he did.
It was the first time Aziraphale lied to his superiors, lied to God. By all rights, he should have been cast out and sent to hell. After the incident, he stood outside by himself, panicking, tears welling up in his eyes. Had he done the right thing? Was he prepared to accept the consequences of his actions? Would it hurt? Every angel knew about the horrors of hell, what an awful place it was. That was where Aziraphale was going, and he was scared. He was so scared.
And right when it felt like the fear would overwhelm him, he sensed that comforting feeling of love. It was faint at first, but grew stronger.
When he saw Crowley, Aziraphale felt some small measure of relief. At least the face of the one who would be bringing him to eternal torment was a pleasant and familiar one. That much was a mercy, perhaps the last he would ever be shown. Aziraphale told him he was ready to go, and Crowley was rather confused. Where were they going? To hell, obviously, Aziraphale answered. He hoped Crowley would stay with him for a little while. Perhaps help him acclimate to his new home.
“I’m not taking you to hell, angel,” Crowley replied.
“Why not?”
Crowley shrugged. “Because I don’t think you’d like it.”
They talked for a long while after that. For the first time, Aziraphale started to understand how useful shades of gray were.
Crowley didn’t bring him to hell. Rather he kept his secret. Not only that, he sat with Aziraphale until the angel no longer felt panicked, until he could breathe again. He never expected a demon would make him feel calm and even comforted. He was grateful for Crowley’s presence.
When God’s only son was crucified, Aziraphale wasn’t surprised when Crowley turned up. Truthfully, it was a relief to see the demon. How very odd that a demon’s presence would be comforting to an angel. Yet that was what Crowley was: a comforting presence. The demon stood so close to the angel that Aziraphale’s hand brushed their robes.
When the final nail was pounded into the man’s flesh, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand. It felt…nice. Surely it was improper, and certainly something that was frowned upon and the cause of a sternly worded memo, but the angel didn’t care. He needed to hold onto something safe, something familiar. To his shock, Crowley didn’t pull away. Rather, the demon held his hand gently, keeping their eyes forward as they watched the horrific event unfold. They were the last to leave the crucifixion site. Once again, the angel shed tears and the demon pretended not to notice. Crowley just continued holding Aziraphale’s hand.
When they met in Rome, Crowley was unusually tense. It was one of the rare times Aziraphale had seen him stressed. He was snappish when Aziraphale approached, which startled the angel at first. Seeing him in such a state bothered the Principality of the Eastern Gate. He wanted to…help was too strong a word, but perhaps provide a brief respite from whatever troubled the demon. After all, Crowley had done the same for him in the past.
Aziraphale invited him to lunch, insisting that he come after finding out Crowley had never had an oyster before. Crowley looked intrigued and even a little surprised. Even better, he actually smiled and it warmed Aziraphale’s heart. The demon agreed and the two went off to enjoy some oysters together. Afterwards, Aziraphale invited Crowley back to where he was staying. It was late and Crowley had nowhere to stay, nor did he have anywhere to be. They had enjoyed more wine and then Crowley fell asleep in Aziraphale’s modest bed. The angel placed a blanket over him, made sure he was comfortable, and then went back to reading a scroll he had recently acquired.
It was then Aziraphale started to understand how lonely Crowley was. Had anyone ever treated him gently or offered him a kind word? The angel doubted it. They had that in common.
How was it that he could sense love in Crowley? Was it from him or was it from the humans surrounding them?
It had to be the humans. Celestial beings did not love, especially not demons. Love was a human experience. Even cherubs knew that. But Aziraphale had to wonder.
Then he made what should have been a fatal error in Paris during the French Revolution. When Aziraphale was led to a cell, he could faintly feel love. He was being led to an empty section of the filthy jail. They had already executed most of the prisoners. Aziraphale sighed and looked at his shackles. He could easily miracle them off, but he was already in trouble for frivolous miracles. And he missed his friend. It had been a while since the angel had crossed paths with the demon. He told himself it was part of his duty, keeping tabs on Crowley, but truth be told, Aziraphale was bored.
As he’d been setting up his bookshop, Aziraphale started to sense a familiar feeling. Love. Crowley was somewhere nearby. When the angel crossed the channel, that feeling of love followed close behind. Crowley was following him, he knew it.
“Animals,” Aziraphale muttered to himself.
“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines,” a familiar voice came from behind him. Aziraphale couldn’t contain his joy at hearing his friend’s voice.
He spun around and there was the demon, lounging on the stones. They had a friendly back and forth as they always did. Aziraphale was overjoyed and once Crowley released him from his shackles, he immediately suggested they go out for crepes. To his delight, Crowley agreed (provided Aziraphale change into clothing that wouldn’t get him thrown back in the Bastille).
The crepes had been the best they had ever had. Crepes were always better with a friend.
_*_
The years continued and the love Aziraphale could feel from Crowley never dimmed. It drew the angel to the demon, formed the basis of their bond. Aziraphale sometimes wondered if Crowley was even aware of the love that was inherent to his being. He must be.
Aziraphale did not plan to fall in love. Angels were not supposed to do so. When he realized he was in love, the angel was terrified. He was terrified of what it meant, for both he and Crowley. He quickly decided it would be better if he just repressed whatever silly feelings he was experiencing. It could never be acted upon. Not ever.
Besides, Crowley likely didn’t return his feelings. Even if he did, he was smart enough to realize that it could never be. They were hereditary enemies. They could never be together.
But that didn’t mean Aziraphale couldn’t be devoted to Crowley. That he couldn’t protect him as he did all the other inhabitants of Earth. After all, that was part of his purpose. Aziraphale had always believed God’s most divine gift was love. The angel believed love was the most important part of the ineffable plan.
The angel and the demon spent years just pining, dancing around their feelings. But they never separated. They remained close to each other. After preventing the apocalypse, they practically lived together.
If that was the most they could have, Aziraphale decided he could be content with it. As long as he had Crowley in his life, things were alright. He told himself that was all he needed.
Then, he saw Beelzebub and Gabriel declare their love for each other, in front of both angels and demons. Aziraphale was filled with so much hope. He couldn’t resist reaching out and touching Crowley’s arm. He felt the way the demon shivered at his touch, could feel that sense of love suddenly become even more pronounced. That was when Aziraphale was certain that Crowley shared his feelings, that he wanted the same as the angel.
Perhaps…perhaps it was possible.
But Aziraphale was still scared. He recalled how Crowley had been taken from him in a Scottish graveyard. The angel hadn’t been able to keep him safe then, how could he hope to now? When Crowley collapsed in pain during Satan’s coming to claim Adam, Aziraphale vividly remembered how his heart stopped. It was then he realized his greatest fear was Crowley being ripped away from him.
The Metatron’s offer seemed like the answer to his quandary. Aziraphale was so relieved to finally have the answer, so overjoyed that he would finally be able to be with the one he loved, he didn’t even pause to consider how convenient the timing was. If he had, he might have hesitated. But he was so excited to tell Crowley. He would finally be out of Hell’s reach. They could finally be together. After so many years of longing, it was all about to change.
But everything had fallen apart.
The demon and angel had kissed. It was a gesture of desperation, a plea to stay. Crowley had declared his love and Aziraphale felt a strange conflict of emotions. He was elated to learn the demon returned his feelings, but crushed because Crowley was still refusing the Metatron’s generous offer. Didn’t he see this was the only way? It was the only way they could safely be together.
Aziraphale had clung to Crowley, unsure what was happening, but knowing he didn’t want it to end. When they pulled apart, Aziraphale wanted to pull Crowley back to him. He wanted to do that again, even as his heart was breaking in his chest.
They broke each other’s hearts. Perhaps it was inevitable. But Aziraphale felt as though something had gone wrong. He had said the wrong thing, had wounded his friend deeply.
There was a moment when the Metatron had re-entered the bookshop where a chill went down Aziraphale’s spine. He was so overwhelmed with emotions that he disregarded the sense of danger he felt from the Voice of God. He knew how dangerous the Angel was, but it seemed so unimportant in the wake of what had just happened. Aziraphale plastered a fake smile on his face and told the Metatron to lead the way, following him out into the sunny day.
When he saw Crowley standing next to the Bentley across the street, watching him, Aziraphale wanted to run to him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run into Crowley’s arms. But…they wouldn’t be apart forever. Aziraphale just had to fix a few things in Heaven and then he would come back. He and Crowley had fought before, and they had always patched things up. He would apologize and explain everything and then they could take things from there.
Eventually, Crowley would realize this was necessary and he would forgive Aziraphale. Wouldn’t he?
As he ascended to heaven, Aziraphale could no longer feel Crowley, as if their bond had been severed. That familiar feeling of love disappeared. It left the angel feeling empty and hollow.
There was no turning back though. Aziraphale had to protect the Earth. He had to protect Crowley. He knew what the angels were probably planning and knew he could make them see reason. Even if that failed, he could be a wrench in those plans. The angel knew he could save their home from destruction. He would have a better chance of success with Crowley, but if he had to do it alone, he would not be deterred.
The angel was going to save the world, no matter what he had to do or sacrifice.
Aziraphale made the same mistake he had made in the past: he underestimated the ruthlessness of his adversaries. It was a mistake Crowley never would have made.
When he was sentenced to death, Aziraphale calmly accepted his fate. Though he tried one last time to feel the love that was part of Crowley. As the first stroke fell, the angel whispered his friend’s name, both a comfort and a prayer. If he was to die, his last thoughts were going to be of the one he loved.
What he did not know was that on Earth, when the first stroke fell upon the angel’s wing, the demon Crowley fell to his knees in pain, letting out a cry. He gingerly touched his wing, where the phantom pain had originated. Looking around with wide eyes, he rose to his feet again, whispering his friend’s name.
He tried to convince himself that the angel was fine, probably plotting with the other Archangels. Crowley told himself he didn’t care. Aziraphale had made his choice.
And yet, that phantom pain nagged at him. Something was wrong. Grabbing the keys to the Bentley, Crowley left the flat he was staying in, deciding to return to London for the first time in months. It was just for the espresso, he told himself. Espresso, and absolutely nothing else.