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Before the Fall the angel was called Lucifer. Years later, after the Fall, once humans reimagine and tell his story, they will call him Satan. But in this particular moment, as he is standing on the wall above Eden, he is simply called Crawly. The name does not quite fit him, it is like a good suit that needs tailoring. It could fit him, if only tweaked a bit. Crawly just is not sure how to tweak it yet. But it would do for now. It is close enough and Crawly does not want to be called Lucifer anymore. It is not him anymore. Angel Lucifer died when falling from Heaven.
Next to Crawly stands the most unusual angel he’s ever seen. He is kind and that is a rarity among angels these days but most importantly, he is caring. Caring enough to give away his flaming sword to humans despite the consequences. Crawly cannot help liking him. He knows he should not, Aziraphale is an angel after all. They are hereditary enemies. They should not even stand so close to each other.
The rain starts to fall down, bringing chilly wind with it. Without a word, Aziraphale lifts the wing, protecting Crawly from the cold droplets of water. And suddenly Crawly does not remember why it is not such a good idea to be here together anymore. For a second he can pretend that he hasn’t been cast to Hell, that he hasn’t fallen, that he is among friends now. There is something warm bubbling in his chest. Crawly glances at Aziraphale, but the angel keeps looking straight, his gaze following Eve and Adam and the now dead beast.
“What are you going to do now?” asks Crawly.
“Not sure. I will have to fix that wall, of course. And then await further instructions. I don’t think I will be staying here. There is nothing left to guard.”
“Are you going back to Heaven?”
“Perhaps,” angel pauses. “Oh but it would be lovely to stay on Earth. Maybe there is another job for me here. There will be more humans soon, I am sure there will be plenty of things to do. What about you?”
“Making more troubles, you know how it is,” shrugs Crawly.
The rain ends and Aziraphale folds his wings.
“I will see you around, Crawly,” Aziraphale says before leaving.
***
Truth to be told, Crawly did not mean to fall. He did not mean to start the rebellion. He did not even want to be a King of Hell. He just wanted some answers. And look at where it brought him. Crowley shiveres despite the heat in Hell. There are so many demons. So many lost faces.
They look at him with devotion. They are not used to making choices for themselves. Well, that is not strictly true. They made a choice. They made a single choice to follow him and not God and that is why they are here. Rebellious angels, now damned unforgivable demons. But the reality is that they do not want to be independent. They are not ready to fly on their own. They need a leader. They want someone to tell them what to do, someone to guide them, someone to command them. They are a pathetic bunch. They are lost and miserable. They deserve better. And yet Crawly is all they have. He does not want to be a part of it, he does not want to rule Hell. He does not want to stay in Hell or even on Earth. He wants to run away from this Galaxy and be on his own. Not that he would ever do it. He cannot leave them the same way She left them.
Crawly spreads his wings.
“Lucifer,” Beelzebub approaches him.
“No, not Lucifer,” he cuts them off. “Lucifer is dead. It is not what I am anymore. I am Crawly. I am the Demon. I am the Serpent of Eden. I am the King of Hell. I do not want to hear that old name anymore. There is nothing that links us to what we were before. It’s time to leave everything behind,” he is not talking to just Beelzebub now, he is addressing all the demons now. “We are the Fallen, but we are still here. And we will make the best of it.”
***
The Job situation is unexpected. Crawly is simply baiting God, taking every chance to contradict Her. He cannot fathom even for a second that She would accept such an insane bet. To allow Job to lose everything in his life, the goats, the house, the kids. That is something worthy of Hell. And yet, it comes as a proposal from God.
Crawly drafts the contact, but he does not expect God to sign. She does. She signs it and allows Hell to do anything they want to Job. Crawly has a license to kill and destroy everything Job holds dear in his life. Permission from God to do evil. Crawly should have been ecstatic. The demons in Hell certainly are, they even throw a party. It involves a lot of wine and a fair bit of (bad) dancing. Mostly they are just using it as an excuse to not complete paperwork, but they are also pleased to be allowed to do such despicable things to Job. All Crawly feels is despair. The way God is testing Job is cruel. It is, in a way, similar to how God tested angels. Crawly did not pass that test (not that he wanted to pass it) and now Crawly has to watch someone else lose everything on a God’s wimp. Crawly does not find it in any way amusing.
Beelzebub wants to kill the goats. Dagon begs to be the one who kills the kids. Furfur presents Crawly with a five step miserable plan on how to torture and kill Job and his family. His plan even has little sketches (Furfur secretly hopes that this would earn him a commendation and he would move from admissions to temptations). Shax proposes they use it as a training exercise for future Angel battles. She wants to bring a legion of demons on Earth and storm Job’s house (as well as the nearby town, since they would be in the area anyway). Crawly walks out of Hell, determined to do the job himself. At least he can kill them with mercy, he tells himself.
And he would have if it wasn’t for the angel.
Crawly hasn’t seen Aziraphale for a thousand of years. Since the Flood. They only meet when God is in the mood to kill some people (or allow Hell to kill some people).
Aziraphale looks devastated about the possibility of such a bet. And he does not even know all the details yet. Crawly does not want to see the look on his face once he realizes the bet includes Job’s children. And that’s when Crawly changes his mind about the goats. He cannot kill them. Not in front of the angel, not when he looks at Crawly like he sees some good in him. There is nothing good in Crawly, and he still pretends to kill the goats (serves Aziraphale right for assuming Crawly is a decent person!). He does not have the heart to actually destroy the goats, but that is not something Aziraphale ever has to know. It’s better if he does not.
Of course nothing ever goes according to Crawly’s plans. Aziraphale does not go away, he comes back to talk some sense into Crawly. He finds out about the goats and talks Crawly into saving Job’s children as well.
It all goes downhill from there.
***
Crawly finds Aziraphale at the edge of the cliff.
“I am ready to go,” Aziraphale says with the painstricken expression on his face.
“Go where?”
“To Hell,” simply says Aziraphale, accepting the consequences of what he did to save Job’s children.
And with those words Crawly’s fate is sealed. He knows he will do anything in the world to protect Aziraphale. He will do anything to wipe that sad look from his face. Anything to help the angel continue believing in good in people. Because Aziraphale is, by far, the best person he’s ever met.
Aziraphale does not even understand what he is saying and to whom. Suggesting to the King of Hell such a thing… A sad smile crosses Crawly’s face for a brief moment. Crawly actually has the power to take him to Hell. Crawly is responsible for the fall of a thousand other angels. But he cannot, would not take part in Aziraphale’s fall. Aziraphale did not even do anything worthy of being in Hell (Crawly was not sure what he himself had done that deserved that either, but that is another story).
“I am not taking you to Hell, angel,” it is as simple as that. Crawly refuses to do anything that horrendous to Aziraphale. He could not even kill the goats. How could he take this angel to Hell?
“Why not?” pushes Aziraphale.
“Well, I don’t think you’d like it.”
“But you have to,” insists Aziraphale. Crawly looks at him, trying to understand what Aziraphale is feeling. “I am like you now.”
Crawly cannot help it. He laughs. Aziraphale is the furthest thing away from Crawly. Crawly lies to everyone around him, but at least he is (occasionally) honest with himself. Crawly knows what he really is. Unforgivable. Despicable. Demon. He lies and tempts and cheats. He brings chaos into people’s lives and he makes them miserable. He hurts everyone around him. He is the King of Hell. He is the worst of them all in Hell. And the notion of Aziraphale being anything like him is absolutely ridiculous.
“You are nothing like me.” Crawly says, shaking his head. “You are good,” not simply good. Aziraphale is pure. He accepts everyone (even a demon) and actually does the right thing (unlike most angels, who say the right thing, but do the opposite).
“I lied! I challenged the will of God.”
“Well yeah you did.. But I am not going to tell anybody. Are you?”
Aziraphale shakes his head.
“Well,” that settles it for Crawly. “Nothing has to change, does it?”
Aziraphale looks at Crawly as he cannot believe what he hears and then slowly says “It sounds…”
“Lonely,” admits Crawly.
“You said it was not,” accuses Aziraphale.
“I am a demon. I lied,” Crawly looks away. He does not like admitting his weaknesses and loneliness is the biggest one of them. It envelops and does its best to suffocate him ever since the fall. He’s not used to being on his own, without Her. Being in charge is exhausting and isolating. Crawly can’t exactly hang out with his demons, even Beelzebub is afraid of him. They get along fine, but they are not friends. Crawly does not have any friends in Hell. And he left his Family behind in Heaven.
All he has now is the emptiness inside him, Hellfire at his feet and an angel he sees once every thousand of years.
He sure as hell hopes that Aziraphale will not be as miserable as him. He will make sure of it.
***
Crowley. It is Crowley. There, it fits much better.
***
What Crowley learns during his time on Earth is that people are very good at stirring up the troubles themselves. He does not have to tempt them into evil all the time, they do a pretty good job of it themselves. And then they take it further than what Crowley could have ever imagined or suggested.
Sometimes Crowley just enjoys his time on Earth without influencing the humans. He knows that something terrible will happen in the vicinity eventually and he can take credit for it if any of the demons ever ask. That’s exactly what happens in Alexandria. Except for the bit about Aziraphale.
Crowley is moderately amused with Julius Caesar and Ptolemy’s rivalry. He is not concerned about the siege of Alexandria (he can get out any time), but he is curious to see what happens next. He makes himself comfortable at a tavern and orders some dates and a bottle of wine. He is ready to watch the spectacle. He is lazily sipping the wine when the ships start to burn. That makes Crowley chuckle and he rocks back in his chair. People come up with terrible ideas all on their own. Surely Julius Caesar must understand that a fire of that size would not be contained in the dock? Crowley smirks thinking how much devastation that fire would bring to Caesar's own city. That lasts for a whole minute, before he realizes that the Library of Alexandria is right next to the docks. And Aziraphale loves those stupid scrolls.
Crowley leaves a half-empty bottle behind as he races towards the library. He knows Aziraphale is in the city. Their paths haven’t crossed yet, but Crowley can feel his presence. It is on the outskirt of his brain, like a warm little home beacon. If Crowley focuses really hard he can pinpoint the exact location of the angel. And if he is nearby, the beacon is stronger. Aziraphale’s presence envelops Crowley.
So Crowey knows that Aziraphale is in the Library right now. He also knows that in about ten minutes the entire building will be on fire. He can hope that Aziraphale would do the sensible thing and leave for safety. But knowing his love for the written word, that is not likely. Crowley breaks into a run.
He finds the angel in the middle of the library, collecting the scrolls. Aziraphale is clutching a few of them in his arms, many more tucked away in his robe and under the belt. But there is a limit to how many he can hold and dozens of the scrolls are scattered around him on the floor. Even more are still on the shelves. Crowley sees the orange radiance in the windows. They don’t have much time, the fire will be here very soon.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale is genuinely surprised to see him here. “What are you doing here?”
“The question is what are you doing here? You cannot carry all of those scrolls in your hands.”
“I cannot let them burn! There is so much knowledge here. They cannot be destroyed,” Aziraphale looks like he’s about to cry.
“Why don’t you just miracle it all away?”
“Heaven limited how many miracles I can perform,” admits Aziraphale.
“So you decided to die instead?” The fire cannot permanently kill an angel, only Hellfire can do that. But Crowley does not want to risk it. Even if it does not kill Aziraphale, getting discorporated is an inconvenience and the paperwork that comes after is worthy of Hell.
“The fire will kill you, angel! Discorporate! I cannot stop it,” that is a lie. Crowley can, in fact, command the fire. It comes with the title. It is, however, common knowledge among the angels that only Satan has the power to control the fire and Crowley cannot have that conversation now (he’d rather never have that conversation). If the scrolls mean so much to Aziraphale, he can save them. But the angel has to leave first.
“Please go. I will take care of your scrolls. I am a demon, I am much better with the fire than you are.”
Aziraphale hesitates.
“Please, just trust me,” words come out of his mouth before he can think it through. Crowley freezes. He expects Aziraphale to laugh, to say that he is not a fool and he does not trust Crowley (and he really should not).
Instead Aziraphale says “Promise me!”
“I promise, angel. Just go.”
Aziraphale leaves, clutching five most precious scrolls in his hands.
He does it just in time, as a minute later the window shutters and the fire engulfs the curtains. Crowley feels the heat of the fire. It would kill an ordinary person, would discorporate an angel, but it’s embracing Crowley in a warm hug. Crowley smiles. He is in his element. He commands. Fire does not lick the scrolls. The walls are burning, but the fire stays away from the shelves. Even the ambers avoid falling down on the scrolls, not daring to disobey Crowley. The scrolls will not burn. Now there is just a small problem of getting them out of here.
Crowley looks around. He can let the scrolls here, untouched by the fire. Aziraphale will retrieve them once the fire dies down. That will however attract unwanted attention. Crowley does not want to explain to Gabriel why he saves the books for an angel.
So Crowley concentrates on Hell. The underworld listens to him. Crowley focuses his attention and bends the lines between the hallways and lava and Hellfire. The reality changes and creates a library. Crowley snaps his fingers and drops all the scrolls down to Hell. They will smell evil for centuries, but the angel can deal with it. At least they will not be burned.
And then Crowley makes sure that Caesar dies. It fits his diabolic plans anyways.
***
Crowley’s relationship with Aziraphale changes after the library incident. They see each other more often. Aziraphale still does not trust him, but he is more open to Crowley. Whenever they run into each other, they spend the time talking.
It does get a little bit complicated when they meet on the opposite sides of the barricades. But at the same time, it does not change a thing.
Crowley cannot wait to be done with being the Black Knight. It is damp and wet and there’s no good food or wine around. And what he is doing does not matter anyways, since Aziraphale’s actions cancel everything out.
He hears other knights laugh outside his tent.
“So naive, I cannot believe he actually fell for it,” cackles Mordred.
Crowley joins the Knights around the fire, half listening to their story. They pass him the wooden bowl with a rabbit stew but he declines it with a shake of his head. He is not a fan of food in general, but he especially dislikes the half-raw unsalted kind of food that accompanies any of the knights’ trips. Seriously, he cannot wait to be done with King Arthur. He knows he has reasons to want his Kingdom to fall, but he cannot remember a single one right now.
“I cannot wait to see his face tomorrow when we find him in the nets.”
Crowley’s thoughts turn back to Aziraphale. The White Knight of Round Table. Crowley refuses to believe that Aziraphale enjoys this mission. Maybe the part where he gets access to the library of Camelot, but surely not the part where he’s running in the woods and eats this poor substitute for the food he’s used to. Aziraphale loves food, he must be hating the knight’s stews even more than Crowley. If only the angel wasn’t so stubborn, they could both benefit from the Arrangement.
One of the knights says Aziraphale’s name and Crowley blinks. He surely misheard. The knight says it again.
“I’m afraid I missed a part of your story. Aziraphale, you said?”
“Yes, that’s the doofus we put a trap for. I will kill him myself and send his head to King Arthur to warn him of what’s to happen to all of the Knights of the Round table,” Mordred is as bloodthirsty as always and he’s boasting in front of the knights.
“That trap. What did you say it was?”
“Nets under the leaves. He takes the same path every night he’s on patrol and he will step right into them tonight. Will let him stew there for the night and then will finish him at dawn.”
“Right,” says Crowley and volunteers for the first watch shift of the night. But he has no intention of actually keeping watch.
He walks through the woods in the general direction of the enemy camp, simmering with annoyance. Though, if he is honest to himself, it is not really the annoyance but worry that he feels.
He should just let Aziraphale spend most of the night in the nets. It will teach him how to pay attention to his surroundings better next time. Or maybe he should let Aziraphale believe it’s Crowley’s trap. If Aziraphale thinks Crowley is playing a game with him, he will stop being so careless. And stop talking to Crowley too. Crowley shakes his head. There is really no solution to the angel being what he is.
He finds Aziraphale right where Mordred says he would, caught in the nets between three oaks.
“Let me guess. Still under a strict ration for your miracles?”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice is full of delight. He even stops wrestling out of the nets.
He knows that Crowley is here for him. The thought of Crowley being the mastermind behind the trap never even crosses his mind. Crowley swallows the harsh words that are on the tip of his tongue and flicks his fingers instead. The nets break and carefully lower Aziraphale to the ground. He inspects his clothes and dusts the dirt from his aketon. Happy with the state of his clothes, he looks Crowley right in the eyes.
“Thank you, Crowley. It was most inconvenient.”
“It would be even more inconvenient if Mordred found you here in the morning and actually killed you,” snaps Crowley, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to be more careful, angel. I won’t always be around to save you.” Crowley does not know how wrong he is. This is just the first of many many rescues he would do for the angel. The beginning of tradition. After this incident Crowley will fall in a habit of alway tracking where the angel is. He sure gets in trouble a lot.
“Would you like a drink?” changes the subject Aziraphale. “ I have the most amazing bottle of wine with me. And it’s my turn to watch over the camp tonight.”
“You know we could come to the Arrangement about our assignments. It would make it less likely that you end up in situations like that,” suggests Crowley as they walk towards King Arthur’s camp and Aziraphale does not shut it down right away.
Crowley smiles. It’s a start.
***
They start the Arrangement.
***
Crowley never imagined stepping in church. But he has to because the stupid angel is in Nazi’s trap and it’s Crowley’s second nature to rescue him now. He feels the pressure as he approaches the church. He knows he’s unwanted here. Crowley pushes the door anyway. His angel is in trouble. He hisses when his feet touch the holy floor and hops from one foot to another.
Being inside the church is like being in a vacuum. Crowley does not feel his powers. They are suffocating under the weight of the Holy presence. It makes him uneasy, he has never felt so helpless before. He isn’t sure if he can perform even a small miracle; and preventing himself from blowing up is definitely out of his reach. He has to trust Aziraphale to shield them both from the bomb.
Crowley does not want to imagine the aftermath if Aziraphale fails. It will be quite inconvenient if the King of Hell is discorporated in a church. There will be questions. Heaven will surely notice. All of his instincts urge Crowley to run away as fast as possible. He stays, bouncing on his feet.
Crowley never trusted anyone. He cannot afford to. But in this moment he trusts Aziraphale to keep them both safe.
He knows that Aziraphale will focus all his powers on saving them both. He probably will be too focused to think of anything else. His books for example. Crowley summons everything he has and covers the books from the explosion. One small miracle. He knows it will take him weeks to convalesce, but a look on Aziraphale’s face is worth all of that.
***
It is a damp and cold night when the world starts to end.
“Satan, this is the end,” says Gabriel cheerfully, approaching him.
“I really prefer to be called Crowley,” Crowley miracles a bottle of glass. Over the millennia of dealing with Heaven, he discovered that those kinds of conversations are better approached with an extraordinary amount of alcohol. Smiling Gabriel never brings anything good.
“Satan, this is a final one,” Gabriel continues, ignoring the remark. “The big one. The war between Heaven and Hell, finally!”
“Yeah, right… I have no idea what you’re talking about though,” Crowley downs a glass in one gulp and then pours himself another one.
“The clock just started to tick,” says Gabriel. “The Antichrist will be born in nine months. And the world will be gone in twelve years.”
Crowley freezes and then drinks the remaining of the wine directly from the bottle. He does not like where this was going.
“Antichrist?”
“Yes, Antichrist. Son of Satan. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. However you’d like to call him.”
“My son.”
“I thought we should discuss the details. The boy will be under Hell’s observation, of course, but Heaven should have a say in it too, don’t you think? We already found perfect parents for him! Harriet and Thaddeus Dowling, he is the American Ambassador,” Gabriel continues talking, but Crowley isn’t listening.
He does not date, but he isn’t celibate of course. He goes out with people when he feels like it, but nothing can ever come out of it. He is a demon, a King of Hell. He cannot have a child. Except, of course, if it is part of a Divine Great Plan to end the Earth. Crowley groans. He wishes he had a copy of that Plan. If he knew this was brewing, he would have happily became as celibate as a nun.
“And the mother? Wouldn’t she notice that you’re giving her child to this American couple?” interrupts Crowley.
“Well she will die in childbirth, of course. You do not think that a human can give birth to the Antichrist and survive, do you? So no one else to worry about.”
Another casualty to add to Crowley’s list. All the poor girl did was smile at the wrong guy at the bar and now she is doomed. Crowley really does not bring anything but troubles to people around him.
He thinks of Aziraphale. Aziraphale loves the world: the people, the books, the little restaurants that serve delicious food. Will Aziraphale be happy about the Armageddon plan? He is doing his best to be a good angel, so Crowley is sure he would try to be on board with the plan. But what will he really think deep deep down?
And what will happen to the two of them after the end of the world? Crowley cannot imagine being on the opposite sides, actually fighting Aziraphale. If it came to it, he is pretty sure he would allow Aziraphale to kill him. Because there is no force in Heaven or Hell that could make Crowley hurt the angel.
But Aziraphale… He would have to kill the King of Hell if it came to it. Wouldn’t he? That’s what good angels do.
Crowley miracles another bottle of wine.
***
“So Armageddon,” Crowley starts.
“You’ve heard,” Aziraphale’s lips are pressed into a thin line and he pushes the plate with the remaining angel cake away from himself.
“Yes,” Crowley is not sure how to approach the subject. “Any thoughts on it?”
“We will win of course,” Aziraphale says.
Crowley swallows. He knows that Aziraphale operates on an abstract concept of winning. Angel does not actually think about hurting or fighting demons (not yet at least). But Crowley can vividly imagine Heaven’s victory. Crowley dreamed of it every night since Gabriel came by.
In those dreams, angels and demons were fighting a bloody war on the plains of what used to be Megiddo. The sand was crimson from all the spilled blood. There were chopped off broken wings scattering the field. Crowley was tired. His arms ached but he was not physically hurt. There was no one who could match the force of Satan. He killed many angels who tried to. Gabriel and other Archangels avoided him and focused their attention on Prince and Dukes of Hell. Crowley saw Beezebub’s lifeless body. Hastur was still alive and he even managed to kill Uriel. But the other demons were dead. Most of them were dead. Most of the angels were also dead. Crowley did wonder if there would be anyone left after the battle at all or if Her plan consisted of full elimination of angels and demons. He wouldn’t be surprised if it did.
Crowley lost his glasses in the first hour of the battle. So there was nothing covering the shock in his eyes when he saw Aziraphale. He looked like an angel of Death. His wings were not white anymore, but bright scarlet. They were sprayed by blood of all the demons he had killed. And he was set to kill one more. Aziraphale approached Crowley with a flaming sword in his hand and a determined look on his face.
“You are an abomination, Satan!” yelled Aziraphale in his dream. “You were never my friend! You need to die so we can start a new better world without you.”
“Angel, listen, I can explain,” Crowley could not bring himself to fight. He knew he should protect himself. But protecting himself meant harming Aziraphale and that was one thing he could never do. He could not imagine delivering the blow that cut through his pale skin and draws blood. He dropped his sword. “Please, there is no need for fighting. I will not fight you.”
Crowley hoped for a chance to explain, to talk. To make Aziraphale understand. He did not get one. Without hesitation Aziraphale advanced and pierced Crowley’s heart with his flaming sword.
“I love you,” whispered Crowley, clutching a hole in his chest. “I love you angel.”
“I killed the King of Hell! We win!” laughed Aziraphale. He looked cartoonish in his dream. But Crowley knew that the sentiments were shared by the real world Azraphale.
Crowley knew he was a demon, but he did not think he deserved that: being killed through his heart by the one he loved. Did he? He heard the cheering of Aziraphale and other angels, proclaiming victory over Hell and chanting about better days ahead. He died holding his bleeding heart.
But at least he died looking at the stars.
Crowley shakes his head, focusing very hard on not thinking of his dreams, and reminds Aziraphale of all those things he would love if the Earth ceases to exist. Sushi restaurants, favourite composers and books. He really wants to add himself to the list, but instead he blurts about the part about regency silver snuffboxes. That is more likely to work than a reminder that Crowley might cease to exist if Heaven wins.
***
Crowley is the King of Hell. He does not need to justify his actions to anyone in Hell. He makes the rules and plans. Heaven is the opposition, so he does not need to follow their instructions either. If anything, doing things that directly contradict their expectations is expected of him. That makes him more of a demon. He is simply following his nature. What else do you expect from the King of Hell? To follow God’s ineffable plan? Please.
And yet it is not the truth. It is not even close to it. It is not why Crowley is standing in front of the Hospital of Chattering Order of St Beryl. That is not why Crowley makes Deirdre Young go into labour a week earlier. That is not why he is about to screw up the entire switching babies plan.
You see, Crowley does not care for Harriet and Thaddeus Dowling. They would make terrible parents. His son would be absolutely miserable if he were raised by them. Or he would turn out to be a prick. Crowley does not like either of those options. Not to mention that all of the eyes of Heaven would be on Dowling’s son. Influencing him. Spying on him. Nudging him towards choices they thought he should make. He would not be able to enjoy his childhood. He would be miserable.
His son was born only a couple of hours ago, but Crowley already knows he is a shitty father. He is a demon. He is leaving his son behind. He is burdening his son with terrible powers and the expectation of ending the world. Crowley cannot stop his son from being an Antichrist. He has no powers to change his future destiny. But he can give him eleven years of blissful unawareness of what's to come. And Youngs would give him all the love Crowley cannot give him himself. They are a nice family, Crowley made sure of that.
Crowley makes his way inside.
“Master,” exclaims Sister Mary Loquacious.
“Take me to room three,” orders Crowley and Sister Mary turns around as a marionette and walks up the stairs. Next day she will only remember flashes of what happened that night, but will swear to everyone who asks that she switched the Antichrist baby with the baby of the American Ambassador herself, thank you very much.
Deirdre Young is sleeping next to her newborn baby. Crowley carefully places his son next to her. Sister Mary wheels the other baby away.
“His name is Adam,” whispers Crowley before leaving. “Take very good care of him.”
***
Crowley lasts three days. And then he goes to buy a house in Tadfield. Miraculously, Young’s neighbor has to move to London for a job and is in a hurry to sell. Crowley moves in right away.
It is stupid. It is likely the stupidest of things he’d done. He should not stay so close to Adam. It might attract Heaven’s attention. It might not be good for the boy either. And yet he cannot help him.
“It’s just for a little bit,” Crowey tells himself. “Just for a couple of months, to keep an eye on Adam. I will be gone before he starts walking. He will not even remember me.”
He cannot leave his son behind.
***
Crowley has no intention of telling Aziraphale about his Tadfeild home. It is too risky to bring him there, not with the Antichrist next door. However, he does not take into account the fact that Aziraphale is clever.
“Where do you live now?” he asks Crowley when they meet up in St. James’s Park.
“How do you mean?”
“You don’t live in London anymore, Crowley. It takes you much longer to get to my bookshop now. You are further away.”
“I got to the bookshop in five minutes when you called me last week.”
“Without your Bentley. You did not drive, Crowley.”
Crowley pauses.
“Look, it is none of my business, but...” Crowley can hear the disappointment in Aziraphale’s voice. Aziraphale understands, but he is still hurt that Crowley is hiding something. And they only have eleven years together. Crowley does not want to jeopardize their relationship.
“I moved out. It’s eleven years and then it’s all over. I thought I’d enjoy a quiet life until then.”
“Quiet life? You?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it. Not to your Bosses. Or to anyone else. I am not exactly supposed to be there,” it is not a lie. Crowley is not sure what he’d do if Gabriel showed up in Tadfield. Better not risk it.
“Are you sure you’re alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asks with concern.
And before Crowley can think it through, he blurts out “Would you like to visit?”
“I would love to.”
Doomed. Crowley is doomed.
***
This is how Crowley brings the angel to Tadfield. To Tadfeild, where he is hiding his son from angels. He never made smart decisions and he’s not about to start now.
It can be a good thing, he tells himself. Crowley wants to spend as much time as he could with the angel. And if both Aziraphale and Adam are in Tadfield it makes it easier for him. Much riskier, but easier.
“It’s a lovely house,” Aziraphale approves. “Plenty of space for your plants as well.”
He stands in the front yard, admiring the rose bushes.
“Yes, it's just great,” Crowley wants Aziraphale to come inside. He glances to the right, hoping the neighbors do not choose this moment to come out. But Aziraphale is in no rush to go. He walks up to the fence. “I have a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape,” Crowley temptation works and they finally go into the house.
It’s not as cozy as the bookshop. Crowley did not not bother with the furniture. It’s not permanent anyway. But Aziraphale slightly wrinkles his nose and Crowley knows he disapproves. He flicks his fingers and a spacious black sofa appears, followed by the glass coffee table.
“Really, my dear?” Aziraphale still isn’t impressed. “Miracling a sofa? You know it’s much better if you get a proper one from the store.”
“I don’t bother with the stores,” Crowley leans back. “I don’t see any difference.”
That leads them into an hour long conversation about the difference between miracled things and the ones humans make. Crowley is not convinced, but he promises to buy an armchair from the store “to feel the difference in quality”, as Aziraphale puts it.
“So what does Gabriel say about Armageddon?” asks Crowley, generously pouring the wine in the glasses.
“Nothing good,” shifts in his seat Aziraphale. “Antichrist is born so now it’s just a matter of time,” he looks at Crowley and quietly adds. “I don’t like it any more than you do Crowley, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Crowley says nothing.
“It’s a nice place to spend some time though,” Aziraphale makes a circular motion with his hand, almost spilling the wine. “Maybe doing something quiet is a good thing. Heaven knows, it will not be quiet after eleven years. I’d love to come back and see you here, if you don’t mind.”
“I invaded your shop a million times over the past two hundred years. Of course you’re welcome here,” Crowley finishes his wine and stands up. “Come on, I will give you a life back to London,” they walk outside and notice the commotion next door.
“Anthony, is there any way you can watch over Adam for an hour? We need to go to the hospital and it’s not a good place for a baby,” Deirdre hands him Adam before Crowley can protest.
“I am not sure…” he mumbles.
“Of course we will watch over him, my dear,” smiles Aziraphale. “Do not worry.”
And that is how Aziraphale meets Crowley’s son. Anrichrist. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness.
Aziraphale coos at him and Adam smiles.
***
Somehow Youngs take it as an open invitation for babysitting and drop Adam off at least once a week with Crowley. Sometimes Aziraphale is there and he plays with Adam and reads him sonnets from the sixteenth century and tells him to be good to all living things.
But more often than not, it’s just Crowley. He talks to Adam about world domination, but it does not feel right. So he talks about defying expectations and making his own path in life. He invents stories with robbers and thieves as the heroes. He tells him about a rebel who challenged the Queen and fell in love with one of her knights. What he does not tell Adam is that the knight did not love him back.
Crowley takes care of Adam. It is a neighborly thing to do.
But it’s more than that to Youngs. They pop the question in late May.
It's an unusually warm day. Aziraphale and Crowley join them in the garden. They are sipping lemonade and talk about the weather.
“And we’re finally getting around to baptizing Adam and we were wondering,” Arthur looks back at his wife. “Anthony, would you like to be Adam’s godfather?
Crowley puts down his glass on the table with a loud thud.
“You’re so good with him and it…” Arthur is still talking when Crowley walks out. He cannot.
“Oh I apologize for Crowley,” Aziraphale says. “It has nothing to do with Adam, of course, he is such a lovely boy and we both love him dearly. But Crowley has a complicated relationship with religion, you see. Won’t ever be comfortable with setting his food again in the church, I am afraid,” he speaks so fast he almost stutters.
“I am sorry for asking. What about you?”
“Pardon me?”
“Would you like to be Adam’s godfather? Or you are not comfortable with the church either?”
“I am quite the opposite.”
***
Aziraphale takes his new role as the Godfather very seriously. He comes to Tadfeild even more often now, every week.
Crowley watches Adam grow up and spoils him at every possible occasion. He gets him a tricycle and teaches him how to cycle when Arthur is away on business.
He makes the Hogback Wood’s lair for Adam and his three friends. Adds a couple of miracles to make sure none of them fall off the trees and break limbs.
Crowley enjoys it. He has Aziraphale and he has Adam and he loses himself in the domestic routine.
Eleven years go by in a blink of an eye. And now it’s almost time for the end of the world. It was too good to last.
***
“The world is about to end, angel!” Crowley sounds desperate and he really is. Knowing that the end of the world was coming did not prepare him. He wishes he had more time. He wishes he could still change things. But the Hellhound found Adam on Wednesday. Crowley watched it approach Adam, secretly hoping he’d send it away without naming. Adam did no such thing. And now the end of the world is one step closer and Crowley cannot do a thing to stop it. He feels powerless, despite all the Hellfire burning inside him.
“Yes, and we do not know where the Antichrist is,” once Warlock arrived in the Middle East, it did not take long for Heaven to figure out that he was not, in fact, the Antichrist. But they blame the nuns for the mix-up.
“If I told you his shoe size, would it help?” deflects Crowley.
“You know his shoe size?”
“It’s a joke, angel,” sighs Crowley, rubbing the nose bridge. He can feel a headache coming on. “Does it matter where the Antichrist is? He can start Armageddon from anywhere. We can’t stop him.”
“We can try!”
“What are you going to tell him? Beg him not to end the world? It’s in his destiny to do it, he cannot resist the pull of power!” Crowley almost yells.
“Well, if there was no boy,” says Aziraphale very carefully. “Then we would not have this problem at all.”
Crowley freezes. Surely Aziraphale did not just suggest killing Adam.
“What are you saying? You want to find him and kill him?” Crowley can feel the asphalt under his feet heating up from his anger. He loves Earth and he does not want to see it destroyed, but he will not harm Adam to prevent that from happening.
He has to remind himself that Aziraphale would not suggest that if he knew who Antichrist really was. Would he? Aziraphale loves Adam. But does he love him more than his books, vinyl records and sushi restaurants? Asphalt starts bubbling and Crowley takes a deep breath to cool down his anger.
“No, no, what I am saying is you can kill him,” simply says Aziraphale.
Despite the skies being clear, lightning strikes in the distance. “Absolutely not,” spits out Crowley. “Out of the question. I am not killing anyone,” and especially not Adam.
“Well, we are out of options, my dear.”
There is still one option left. One that Crowley did not dare admit even to himself. But they are out of time and if there is a chance Aziraphale will agree… Crowley has to know.
He is not naive to think that Aziraphale would go against Heaven. But Crowley hopes that after the last eleven years… the last six thousand years, really, Aziraphale sees him as a friend. He hopes that Aziraphale would at least be open to doing something neutral. Not defying Heaven, but not openly supporting their Apocalyptic plan either.
“We can leave,” Crowley says, full of hope. “Sure the Earth will turn into a pile of burning goo, but we can leave it behind. Just you and me. We can leave Earth, go to Alpha Centauri,” Crowley forgets how to breathe as he looks at the frown forming on Aziraphale’s face.
“We cannot leave.”
“Sure we can! What is stopping us? To Hell with Heaven and with Hell! Just you and me, what do you say? We can do it. How long have we been friends? Six thousand years and…”
“Friends? We are not friends. And we cannot leave,” repeats Aziraphale. “We are on opposite sides.”
“We are on our own side,” says Crowley and he truly believes that. He can easily go against God and against Heaven and even against Hell. He holds no affection towards any of those places or angels or demons. He will not feel bad by leaving them behind or betraying them. There are only two people in the Universe who Crowley will do anything for and one of them is standing right in front of him. Crowley has been on Aziraphale’s side since the beginning of time and he will do anything, anything for him.
The frown between Aziraphale’s brows deepens and Crowley’s heart misses a beat.
“No. There is no our side Crowley, not anymore,” Aziraphale does not feel the same. It will always be Heaven first. Even after everything they did to him. And after everything they did not do, just letting him fend for himself.
Crowley sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling very cold despite the Hellish heat coming off from his feet. He was there every time Aziraphale needed someone. He was there to share wine, to save his books, to save Aziraphale, to save his books again.
And still Aziraphale does not choose him. It was not enough. He will never be enough.
“Right. Well, then,” he does not know what to say. He feels very tired.
“It’s the Great Plan, Crowley. We cannot change it,“ gently says Aziraphale as if it can make it hurt less. It does the opposite.
“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great Blasted Plan,” yells out Crowley, directing all his anger at God. She does not hear it, but it feels good to scream at Her.
“May you be forgiven.”
“I will never be forgiven, part of the job description,” says Crowley, turning away.
Crowley almost tells Aziraphale exactly how unforgivable he is. He does not. He is a coward. And his heart is broken enough as it is, he does not need to add more cracks into that with one more rejection.
He walks away.
***
And when Crowley thinks it cannot get any worse, the bookshop burns.
***
It is the end. It is the end of times, of course, the end of Earth and the human race. But Crowley does not care about it, not anymore. What matters to him most is that it is the end of Aziraphale. Crowley does not feel his presence anymore. The light that guided Crowley home all those years flickers and goes away. Like a candle left in the wind. Crowley’s mind races through all the things he can sense on Earth. Other angels, other demons, Adam, people, Horsemen, Kraken. He can sense them all but Aziraphale. The only person he is looking for is not there, only a void where his presence used to be. Aziraphale is gone.
The flames are flickering around Crowley without burning him, but they do not spare anything else in the bookshop. All the books are aflame: the prized first editions that Aziraphale kept in a separate cabinet, the less important second editions and even the newer books that he let customers touch (but never buy). Even the scrolls he saved for Aziraphale in Alexandria. They are all gone. There is no more bookshop. There is no more Aziraphale.
Crowley always feared losing Aziraphale, but he hadn’t imagined it like that. He always thought he would lose him by being Satan. Aziraphale is wary enough of Crowley as a demon, and Crowley knows he would not accept him as Satan. He would not want to be in the same room as Satan, let alone be friends with him. Crowley’s deepest and darkest fear is to lose Aziraphale’s friendship, to never see him again. Crowley imagined a thousand times the betrayal on angel’s face. What he might say. How he might describe Crowley. How much he would despise Crowley. How he would jump away, realizing what Crowley was. How he would run away and never come back.
But Crowley never, not even in his worst nightmares, imagined a world without Aziraphale. A world where Aziraphale did not exist anymore.
It is crippling. It is worse than Armageddon.
Crowley yells. He lets all of his grief out and he feels his powers going haywire from the end of his fingertips. The ground rumbles below his knees, sending the trembles all the way down the Hell. Demons go quiet. They can feel something is not right, but they do not know what. Some decide it is a preface to Armageddon, after all it is set to begin in a mere couple of hours. They start rethinking if they really want to fight against Angels. If that is preface only, they really do not want to see the first Act. The Hellfire erupts from the enclosures and burns down the filling department, giving the demon-clerks just enough time to run out. The posters on the walls combust into flames. Soul admissions paperwork for the fourteenth century is lost in the fire, but Furfur saves the Standard Operating Procedure binder and “Worst Demon in Hell” mug. Even Heaven feels the rumble below (but they do not pay much attention to it, they are in the middle of assembling platoons for War).
A series of lightnings strikes the bookshop. It doesn’t make much of a difference, since it is already a burning mess, but it scares the firefighters and onlookers. Lightnings keep striking the roof, producing an impressive wave of fiery sparkles as people run away in panic. The roof caves in. Entire London shakes. Big Ben chimes thirteen times and then the bell cracks and clapper disconnects from the base. It falls through the floor, breaking the wooden stairs below it. Millennium Bridge wobbles. The supporting cables snap, sending the bridge and all the people on it in the river below. Cracks appear in the asphalt and Hell lava pours out of it. People abandon their cars. They can drive in traffic and masterfully avoid potholes. But they do not know how to drive with hundreds of burning potholes appearing on the road every second. News anchors disagree on live television if that is the beginning of World War III or the effects of climate change. M25 turns into a ring of fire (though that last one has nothing to do with Crowley, but it certainly does not help the situation).
People in Glasgow feel the trembles and run out on the street, fearing the earthquake. Volcano erupts in Hawaii and a tsunami approaches Thailand. The tremors are so strong that even the Rocky Mountains shake, sending an avalanche of snow downwards. Australia’s continent totters in the ocean and ends up next to Brazil. New Zealand wobbles as well, appearing near Siberia, where the sudden chilly wind envelops it in snow.
Crowley feels his heart break and then the glass shatters in the world’s tallest buildings.
The entire world feels the shock and grief of Crowley losing Aziraphale. And it is still not enough to express his loss. His pain is more substantial than this.
Crowley stops screaming. His throat is dry and he knows he lost his voice. Small dry sobs escape from his chest, but his eyes stay dry. He buries his head between his knees. He stays in the same position for what felt like hours, mourning Aziraphale.
When he looks up, the fire around him dies down. Everything that is left is ash and burned out walls.
He stands up.
There is nothing else to do but to go to Tadfeild and observe his son destroy the Earth. Crowley does not even care anymore. The world is nothing without Aziraphale anyway.
***
Crowley is unsteady on his feet, swaying from side to side even more than usual. He has a bottle of cheap wine in his right hand. He needs to drown all his feelings. There is a giant gap where Aziraphale’s presence used to be. Wine dulls it down.
He is at the airbase in Tadfield and he is late to Armageddon. They started without him. Adam and his friends stand in front of the Four Horseman. This will be over very soon. Crowley takes another sip of disgustingly bad wine and steps forward. No one noticed him yet.
Crowley has a front row seat to the start of Armageddon, but it does not go as expected. He watches with absent amusement how the girl defeats War.
There is a noise behind him and he turns around to see a small blue scooter appearing from the sky. For a second Crowley feels Aziraphale’s bright presence. Crowley blinks and the feeling goes away. Perhaps he drank too much wine. He takes another sip anyway. What does it matter if he is going crazy, the world is ending either way.
A middle aged woman in a colourful dress hops off the scooter. There is something familiar in her, but Crowley cannot put a finger on it. Maybe he tempted her with some evil in the past? He meets a lot of people. Behind her Sergeant Shadwell carries a big gun.
Adam cocks his head to the side.
“Mr. Fell, what are you doing here?” he asks and then adds. “And, why are you two people?”
Crowley feels the time freezing around him. Mr. Fell. It could not be… Could it?
“It’s not right. You should go back to being two separate people again,” and just like that Aziraphale appears next to the woman.
Aziraphale is there. Alive.
Crowley drops the bottle and it falls to the ground with a loud bang. He steps on the broken glass and hugs Aziraphale. He envelops him in a tight hug, doing his best to express all of his feelings with touch.
I am so happy you are here. I love you. Please do not ever leave me again.
For a second Aziraphale does not move, surprised by the outburst. They don’t do touch. They barely acknowledge each other with other people present. But surely that isn’t an ordinary moment. Armageddon and all. Aziraphale returns the hug, pressing Crowley closer against his chest. He missed the demon too.
“I am so sorry for what I said, my dear,” he whispers. Crowley does not say anything, clutching him closer. He does not trust his voice. Eventually he lets Aziraphale go and looks at him. Angel looks just as he did before the fire.
“Don’t you ever do that again, angel,” croaks Crowley. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“I will not,” Aziraphale pats his hand. “I promise.”
Crowley takes a deep breath. Adam decided not to end the world. Aziraphale is alive. Four Horsemen disappeared. This almost feels too good to be true.
Gabriel appears with a flash of lightning. In the same moment Beelzebub ascends from the ground in a roaring fire. Beelzebub pauses when they notice Crowley. They do not expect to see him there, not after his outburst of power earlier. They do not look surprised though. They do not look concerned about Armageddon being put on pause either. Beelzebub is just following protocol. Gabriel, on the other hand, looks pissed.
Aziraphale shivers under Gabriel’s gaze, but does not release Crowley’s hand. Gabriel does not comment on it, he has more important things than a misbehaving angel. A misbehaving Antichrist for example. He approaches Adam.
“Armagdeoon must restart, right now. A temporary inconvenience is not going to get in the way of ultimate good.”
Beelzebub does not make an effort to convince Adam of anything. They stand behind Gabriel, shooting Crowley a look. Surely if anyone has to negotiate with Adam on behalf of Hell out of the two of them, it’d be Crowley. Beelzebub is outranked and they do not understand why Crowley is in the back, silently standing next to the angel. Worse than that, holding the angel’s hand. That is very peculiar.
Fortunately Crowley’s title means that no one in Hell ever dares to question him. Beelzebub stays quiet and if Crowley can catch them before they return to Hell, he even has a chance to stop the rumours spreading in Hell's kitchen during lunch breaks.
“You can’t refuse to be who you are. Your birth and destiny are part of the Great Plan,” continues Gabriel.
Adam does not look impressed with the speech and refuses to change anything.
“You were put on this earth to do one thing and one thing only. To end it. Your father will not be pleased,” eventually roars Gabriel and Crowley cannot help protesting such an erroneous statement. He is actually quite pleased with Adam for not starting Armageddon. For rebelling against his fate. For not blindly following the Great Plan. Crowley is proud.
“Hey,” he shouts, but Aziraphale grips his hand tighter and shushes him.
“My dad?” that touches a nerve and Adam looks angry now. “Dads don’t wait until their kids are eleven years old to say hello. If Satan is my real dad, he should have been there with me from the beginning. Helping me build a treehouse and teaching me how to ride a bicycle. He would have been there for me all my life. He would be here now,” Adam yells out the last sentence.
The look on Gabriel’s face is beyond puzzled. He looks at Adam and then at Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley’s heart sinks. He knows right there and then that this would be the moment. The moment his world would end. He managed to keep his secret from Aziraphale for six thousand years at least. Pretty impressive streak. But nothing lasts forever. And it is coming to an end now.
“But he is here,” says Gabriel. “He is right behind you.”
Adam turns around and looks right at him.
“That’s just Crowley and Mr. Fell,” says Adam.
“Crowley, Satan, Lucifer. Call him anything you want, boy. He is your father and he’s…”
Crowley becomes painfully aware that Aziraphale drops his hand with a soft gasp and takes a step back. Crowley can feel his shock and horror. Crowley grinds his teeth to stop himself from smoking in frustration. And then Adam looks at him, really looks at him.
Crowley stops the time, bringing him and Adam out of this world. Just the two of them. He does not need anyone else to witness this conversation. Crowley glances to his right at Aziraphale, frozen in time, frozen in his shock. Angel is wearing the same expression Crowley always feared he would. He looks just like he did in Crowley dreams (nightmares, really). And for a second Crowley hesitates. He imagines what would have happened if he were not Lucifer. If he were not a King of Hell, but a low level demon (maybe a councilman), just as he was pretending to be. In this imaginary world Aziraphale would have trusted him still. He and Crowley would have worked together to find Adam and save the world. Aziraphale would have been in the time bubble with him, helping convince Adam not to end the world. To encourage Adam to stand up to his father. Maybe they would have even held hands as they waited for the real Satan to appear. Together until the end. United.
But Crowley is the King of Hell, he is Satan. Instead of him and Azraphale it is just him. Him and his son. His feet buckle and he sinks to the floor. It was a very long day. He lost Aziraphale, found him and now he is losing him again, this time for good. At least Armageddon seems to be put on pause.
“You are my dad?”
“Yes, I am,” Crowley’s throat is dry, he swallows but that does not help. What could he say to Adam?
“But you were there with me, all my life! Why didn’t you say something?”
“I could not. I was not supposed to be there,” Crowley looks away. “I was not supposed to be near you at all. You were supposed to be raised by a different family, this dreadful American couple, and end the world after your eleventh birthday. But I could not… I could not let them do this to you. I wanted you to have a normal childhood,” Crowley paused. Being put into a different family could not be considered normal childhood. “Or, at least, a better one than the one they were planning for. I wanted you to be happy and make your own choices. And, very selfishly, I wanted to be near you. I could not let you go.”
“I am sorry for not telling you the truth, but I do not think it would go over very well. I did everything in my power to protect you.”
The silence falls between them.
“He did not know, did he?” asks Adam looking at Aziraphale.
“No, he did not.”
“How could he not know that you’re a demon? He’s an angel, isn’t he? Shouldn’t they sense that kind of thing?”
“Oh, he knew I was a demon. He just did not know what kind of demon. He did not know I am Satan. That I was Lucifer. That I am the King of Hell. And that is much worse than just being a demon.”
Crowley closes his eyes. He was so close. He was so close to the Dream, he could almost taste it. No Armageddon. Aziraphale being alive and being there with him, holding him. If only Gabriel hadn't said anything. Crowley closes his eyes. It is wishful thinking anyway. He could not keep it a secret forever. Sooner or later Aziraphale would have found out. If not today, then tomorrow or a year from now or in a hundred years. And his reaction would have been the same. “Except we would have had more time together, just the two of us,” a voice in his head whispers.
“You don’t look like Satan.”
“Sorry, forgot my pitchfork and a tail in Hell.”
“Do you actually have horns?”
“I am a snake, not a goat.”
“Do you want the world to end?” Adam finally asks the question.
“No, I love the world. It’s messy and it’s not ideal, but there. You were brought into this world to end it. But you have a lot of power and you can follow your own path. You do not have to do what is expected of you.”
Adam nods.
Time restarts.
Adam steps up and says, looking Gabriel directly in the eyes. “I am not changing my mind.”
“You will not get away with it,” he addresses Adam. And then he looks at Crowley, as if failed Armageddon is his fault (and maybe it is). “You will hear from our people. This is ridiculous. I have to tell thousands of angels that there will be no War,” and he disappears in a flash of lightning.
“I will let the demons know to stand down, Boss” Beelzebub salutes Crowley and disappears underneath the pavement. It goes without saying that demons would probably be happy about this turn of events. They are not into the whole End of the World plan. They are creatures of habits, enjoy the life they live and do not want any changes.
Aziraphale is the last non-human left on the airbase. He looks Crowley in the eyes and then averts his gaze. His hands are trembling and he cannot stop fixing his suit. Crowley opens his mouth, but he does not know what to say. What could he say? Should he apologize? Explain? Beg for Aziraphale to listen to him?
He braces himself for what Aziraphale would say. Maybe if he yells at him and calls him a liar, it would make the angel feel better?
But Aziraphale does not say a word. Instead he turns around and walks towards the gates. He does not look back. Crowley feels his eyes filling up with tears, but he refuses to cry. He looks as Aziraphale makes his way to the entrance to the air base. Crowley would never admit it, but he prays Aziraphale would look back. He knows that She is not listening, but prays for a miracle anyway. Crowley hopes.
Crowley does not have much hope in his heart, but there was always a flicker of it. A stubborn tiny flame that refused to die down. It never grew, but it did not reduce either. It steadily burned over the centuries despite everything that angel has done or said. It got accustomed to rejections and harsh words and denial of their friendship. But it refused to die down. It fed on occasional glances and praises and unsaid confessions. Every time Aziraphale looked at him after Crowley saved his life, the flame came alive.
Aziraphale reaches the gate and hesitates. He turns around and locks eyes with Crowley. Crowley can see the confusion, betrayal and fear in his eyes and then the angel steps through the gate. He leaves without saying a word.
That tiny flame of hope dims and suffocates in his soul. Crowley feels the tear on his cheek, grateful for sunglasses. It is truly over. He never even had a chance. An angel might love a demon. But an angel could never love a King of Hell. Crowley can feel the cracks in his heart widening and then his heart breaks. It shutters into a million tiny pieces that pierce his soul and leave nasty scars.
***
The bookstore looks exactly as Aziraphale has left it. There is an unfinished cocoa in his mug, next to Agnes Nutter’s book. Aziraphale looks around, trying not to think about what happened on the airbase. Crowley is… Well he isn’t Crowley, is he?
Aziraphale looks at the scrolls behind a glass window. Scrolls from the Library of Alexandria. If Crowley is Satan, then why did he help Aziraphale then? Aziraphale shakes his head. It does not make any sense, his Crowley cannot be Satan. Aziraphale feels like someone shook him and left upside-down in a place where familiar things suddenly become unknown and dangerous. Was anything real during his time on Earth or was this a giant grooming plan to make one more angel fall and betray Heaven?
The doorbell rings and Aziraphale says without turning around, “I am afraid we are closed. Come back tomorrow.”
“Mr. Fell,” Adam says and Aziraphale turns around so fast he knocks down a book from the end shelf.
“Adam…”
“Wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” hesitates Adam at the entrance. “With you being an angel and me being… Not.”
“Of course I still want to see you. I just did not expect to see you. Come in, my dear boy.”
“Well you don’t want to see Crowley anymore.”
Aziraphale doesn’t know what to reply.
“Would you like some cocoa, dear?” he asks instead. That would give him something to do at least. Adam nods and Aziraphale disappears into the kitchen and takes a big breath as he’s waiting for the kettle to boil. It’s not Antichrist in his bookshop, he reminds himself. It’s his godson (who just happens to be Antichrist).
Adam fidgets on the sofa.
“I can leave, if you want.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are always welcome here.”
“Always? Even after…”
“Well you did not end the world. I think you handled the entire thing very well. I am proud of you.”
“Am I… Am I still your godson?”
“Well of course. Nothing would change it.”
“Good. I like you. I would be very sad if you stopped being my friend,” he says with child-like directness. “I put your bookshop together!”
“I noticed that. Thank you.”
“You would miss the books. Plus he got very sad when it burned down,” he adds very quietly. Aziraphale is convinced he knows exactly who Adam is talking about, but he’s not ready to face that yet.
“I noticed you added some new books to my collection too!”
“I put the entire world back together. To how it was before Wednesday. It’s only right. Though it would be fun to have Atlantis around still. We could have gone on a summer holiday there!”
“There are plenty of other places to go on holidays. I am sure you can find a spot you like.”
They chitchat for another twenty minutes and by the end of it Adam is grinning ear to ear.
“Thank you Mr Fell. For accepting me.”
“Oh nonsense, dear boy. I’ve known you your entire life.”
“I know,” he finishes the cocoa and wipes the milk mustache from his face. “You’ve known Crowley for a long time too.”
“Well, not all of it, as it seems.”
“He loves you, you know,” that is not what Aziraphale expects to hear.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve always known. Even before I knew who he was. It’s the way he looks at you and takes care of you. And he calls you “angel”.”
“It’s really just the statement of the facts. I am an angel.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it. It’s in the tone, you see. He calls you “angel” the same way that dad calls mom “love”. It’s not the only thing too. He looks at you the same way Brian looks at strawberry ice cream. It’s very obvious, you know? And then I felt his grief when you disappeared.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well I thought it’s just part of Armageddon. The shaking and the screaming and the grief in the air. I could taste the heartbreak and I thought it was because the horsemen were riding. But now I know it was Crowley. He thought he lost you and he let the entire world know. The world lost its colours. It was like watching old TV at grandma’s place. Not the same. And then it all went away when I put you back. All the sorrow disappeared from the air and I could feel happy again. The birds started singing again too. I didn’t know what it meant at the time. But I thought about it on the bus ride here and I am sure it was Crowley.”
“He is Satan. I am not sure he can love.”
“He loves me,” Adam shrugs. “Don’t you think?”
“Of course, but…” Aziraphale pauses.
“And if he can love me, that means he can love. I mean, he rebelled as an angel, that’s why he’s down in Hell isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“Well what is stopping him from rebelling again? Rebelling against what Satan should be? It’s actually quite logical for him not to follow the set rules. To not be the Devil everyone expects him to be. To not want the end of the world, to love an angel and to do all those other things. That’s very devilish, don’t you think?”
“He is not very good at being evil, you know,” Aziraphale sighs. “He never liked doing truly evil things or killing people. He was more fond of mischief and mild inconveniences, like gluing coins to the sidewalk.”
“Well, you see. You know him better than anyone.”
“But my dear, I do not. I did not even know who he really was.”
“You did not know his other name. But you knew who he was. Does the name change anything?”
“Of course it does. Especially when it’s a name like Satan!” Aziraphale wants to shout. But he does not. Instead he thinks about Crowley.
How his eyes always light up when he sees Aziraphale. How he cares about things that are important to Aziraphale. How he is always there. There was never a time in the last six thousand years when Crowley was not there for Aziraphale. He saved him from Nazis, Bastille, Alexandria. Even during the Job bet he… Aziraphale freezes. Aziraphale asked the King of Hell to take him to Hell and he refused. If Crowley truly were evil, he would jump on the opportunity to make one more angel fall, would he not? And yet all Crowley did was support Aziraphale.
Aziraphale remembers the heartbreak in Crowley’s eyes when he left the airbase. Hurt and acceptance. Crowley was breaking inside and he thought he deserved it.
No, the name does not make a difference at all. It’s still the same demon. A demon who loves an angel and does not think he deserves to be loved back. A demon who loves this world and does not want humanity to end. A demon who refuses to go with Heaven’s plan. A demon who protects his son. A demon who saves an angel over and over and over again. And his books. A demon who loves and cares and gives himself.
Crowley.
***
Armageddon was averted twelve hours ago. Crowley was drinking steadily for eleven of them. He is on bottle twenty nine now. At first he drank fine wine from his collection. Once he ran out (around bottle number seven), he started miracling decent bottles of wine from Ritz’s cellar. Right around bottle number thirteen he stopped caring. The next bottles were worse and worse in quality, one of them might have even been a sangria. And yet it makes no difference. Crowley is drunk beyond the point of caring.
He is drinking to forget and to stop feeling the pain. To stop loving. It is, of course, impossible.
He should be happy. This is the best case scenario. He didn’t even dare to hope it’d end up like that. No end of the world. Adam is alive and happy and he even knows Crowley is his father. Doesn’t hate him for it either. He’s a saint (as much as Antichrist can be a saint). Must be all the angelic influence by his Godfather.
Crowley takes another sip. And Aziraphale is alive too… And yet it’s not enough. Because Aziraphale now knows the truth and he abandoned Crowley. Crowley feels a huge gap in his chest where Aziraphale used to be. Every time he closes his eyes he can see Aziraphale. In fact, he can even see him when he opens his eyes. Crowey takes another sip and puts the empty bottle on the floor next to him.
“Hello Aziraphale,” he says. Words come out slurred and Crowley giggles.
“Can you please sober up?”
“No, don’t want to,” Crowley miracles another bottle and tries to take a sip. Aziraphale stops his arm and looks. “Then you will disappear and I don’t want it.”
“Disappear?” Aziraphale takes the bottle away. It’s a very stubborn hallucination.
“I am usually not hallucinating when I am sober. So you will puffff,” Crowley makes a gesture with his arms, but loses his balance and falls on the side. “You will disappear.”
Aziraphale looks very disapprovingly at him.
“I don’t want to be alone. I need you here,” confesses Crowley. “You look so real, I can almost believe it.”
“That is because I am real, Crowely”
“No, you are not. You left. You did the right thing, really. I am pretty nasty. Would not want to be near me. I made all those angels fall, you know? Of course you know… You are better off without me. Only I miss you so much. I should not want things. But I wish I could be someone else. Someone better. Someone you’d like to be near. Someone you did not hate.”
“Crowley, dear… I do not hate you.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does. I am Satan,” Crowley spits the last word. “I am disgusting. I am unlovable. Unforgivable. I cannot even have friends. Or family. Look at what I did to Adam. He’s better than I am, though. Decided not to end the world. Such a nice kid”
“Adam is who he is because of you. You raised him. You raised him to be a human.”
Crowley scoffs. His eyes feel very heavy and he closes them just for a second.
***
Crowley groans. He wakes up with a hangover. He is surprised to see that he is not on the floor, but tucked in bed, under a blanket. He does not remember getting to bed, the last thing he remembers is talking to his hallucination on the living room floor, amid all the bottles. The curtains are closed, but he can see the sun through the gaps. It must be mid-day now. He stands up.
He walks up to the kitchen and freezes. Aziraphale is there.
“You… you are here.”
“I am.”
“Last night. You…” he does not know what he wants to say. Was it a dream? Or was Aziraphale actually here?
“I was here.”
Crowley’s mind races, trying to recreate the conversation. What did he say exactly?
“I… I said a lot of things,” he finally manages.
“Yes, you did. Look Crowley, I don’t quite know how to say it…”
Here it is. Crowley braces himself. Aziraphale came back to let him down in person. And Crowley cannot take it.
“Listen, I did not get to say what I wanted to say before, so might as well say it now,” he might have said some of it last night, but he cannot remember details through the wine haze. He knows that this will end in rejection. There is no hope left in his chest, not even a flicker of it. He knows he cannot change Aziraphale’s mind. Crowley cannot change what he is. And that is the real problem between the two of them, isn’t it? But he needs to say it outloud. He wants Aziraphale to understand, to know.
“We’ve known each other for a long time. You and me. And I was not as honest with you as I should have been. Only, I don’t think you would have stayed if I was honest. So I lied. Omitted the truth, really. And I know it’s not an excuse, but I want you to know that I did not do it out of malice. I might be Satan, but I am not that evil. Truth is, I wanted to be near you and I could only do it by pretending to be someone I am not. I know that the longer I waited, the worse the revelation would be. But, come on, we both know that there would be no going back after you heard the truth. You might be friends with a demon, but with Satan... No, no one can be friends with Satan. No one can love Satan… But it turns out Satan can love. I fell in love with you over bottles of wine and conversations. As I saw how kind and loving you are. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And all I wanted,” his voice breaks and he pauses, blinking a couple of times to stop the tears from rolling down. “All I ever wanted is to be with you. To be with you as myself, of course, but that seemed impossible. So being with you as that lie was all I had. I love you. And I know you cannot love me back, but I just want you to know,” his voice breaks and he looks down, allowing the stubborn tear to escape.
“Crowley,” angel’s voice is soft, like he is soothing an injured animal. “Crowley, look at me, please. I am not going to lie to you, I am angry that you did not tell me. I am confused. I am even scared.”
Crowley grabs a pair of glasses from the countertop and puts them on. He can feel more tears coming up and he cannot control the hurt in his eyes. He needs the protection of the black lenses before Aziraphale delivers the final blow.
“But,” he reaches his hand and pulls Crowley’s glasses away, looking him in the eyes. “What I do know my dear, is that there is goodness in you. You are not pure evil, no matter what Gabriel says. And over the years, you showed me the real you. Saving me. Saving my books. Helping stop Armageddon.”
“I haven’t really done that,” protests Crowley. He showed up to Armageddon drunk and let Adam do what he wanted to do anyway. It hardly counts.
“If you were so maleficent, would you allow Adam to disobey and stop the War so easily? What I am really trying to say, Crowley, is that, I know you. You did not change on the airbase. You are the same person you always were. With a different name and a different title. It took me some time to realize it and I am sorry I hurt you by walking away. But nothing changed. You are still you. And I still love you.”
“Oh,” manages to say Crowley before he’s pulled into a kiss.
***
Deirdre and Arthur Youngs watch Anthony and Aziraphale unload boxes of books from the backseat of Bentley.
“Finally,” Arthur says. “And you thought I was slow. It only took me a month to find the courage to ask you.”
“Oh shush.”
“Just saying that even I…” he does not get a chance to finish, as Adam knocks over the mug from the table as he runs from the stairs to the front window, rushing to see the scene unfold.
“Cool!’ he almost jumps with joy. “I am going to go help!” and he runs out of the house with Dog in tow before his parents get to say a word. Arthur takes another sip of his tea. He certainly hopes Adam won’t break anything important while “helping”.
Outside, Anthony takes the last box, full of long scrolls of parchment, and smiles vivaciously at Aziraphale.
Arthur cannot stop mimicking that smile. It is nice to finally see Anthony happy.