Chapter Text
The smell of stashed paper, brewed tea and butter biscuits enveloped Aziralphel like a familiar hug. In the semi-darkness of the closed Shalosia, the bookstore looked like a slightly shabby still life. So quiet that Aziralphel became nervous after just a few minutes. He had expected a lot, a ravaging business, a demon spewing poison and bile... But this silence was unnatural.Aziraphel's nervousness turned into an unpleasant tingling sensation that worked its way up from the tips of his toes to his ears and tied his stomach like a rope.It felt like a viscous golden eternity as the angel stood there and the last events that had happened here played before his eyes like a film.
A determined, grab on his top...A pair of eyes that had become so familiar to him in 600 years and that knew so much more... and lips that had burned like fire on his lips... a fire that he almost surrendered to...Aziralphel couldn't help but touch his lips briefly. Just like he had done last time. And then everything was shattered... their friendship... their shared life here on earth, which they had saved with so much effort. ..their love..Love.Yes, it had been love.In their shared looks and conversations.In accidental touches.The dates.Yes, there had been dates.In a shared feeling of happiness and contentment.But he had been so stupid. And so blind. And when Crowley had found the courage to do what the angel was unable to do. Aziraphel had been a coward.
He had hidden behind Metatron and his new task, had hidden his heart and had left his best friend, his other half, his world behind.All that was left was half a heart and a hole.
But Aziraphel had continued to smile. Ignored the emptiness and tried to carry on.He smiled as the mountains of paper on his new desk threatened to swallow him up. He smiled as he noticed the scheming of the angels behind his back. But at some point over the last year, he just couldn't do it anymore.And Crowely's last words about the toxic way of heaven and hell came up again.And damn, he was right.No matter what suggestion for change Aziraphel made, they all came to nothing and not a single one prevailed.When he realized this, all he wanted to do was get away. Back to Earth. Back to England. Back to the bookstore, but above all back to him. Back to Crowley and back to the kiss.If there was even a chance of going back.
Like a strange visitor, the angel searched the shop, looking for a sign of life, for proof that his books were not without any protection.But when he had searched all the rows of shelves, the storage room and the apartment above the store, he realized that he was completely alone.No sign of Muriel or Crowley.Confused, Aziraphel looked at his cluttered desk, perhaps one of the two had left a message for him. But apart from a few old invoices and a forgotten tea cup, there was no trace to be found there either.
As the angel was about to give up and hurried towards the exit, he felt how the power of the afternoon sun suddenly faded away.The cold that suddenly rose behind him gave him goosebumps and when he turned around he could see a now matiralising figure.
The man who was now standing in front of Aziraphel was wearing a red and blue striped knitted sweater, faded jeans and dark leather shoes. His hair was already gray, and his water-blue eyes looked like oversized marbles behind the reading glasse.None of this was unusual for Aziraphel's usual clientele. Library patrons loved searching his shelves for lost first editions or discussing one book or another with him, even if many of them left the store without a book.
However, there was one difference - none of Aziraphel's customers were already dead.
The man's horribly bleeding head wound and the unnatural cold only allowed Aziraphel to conclude that the man in front of him was a ghost.Despite this realization, Aziraphel put on a friendly smile, most ghosts were harmless and even if they weren't, they didn't have the slightest chance against an angel.
"Well hello," he greeted the ghost.The man smiled back kindly, with small smile lines forming around his mouth. The angel estimated that he must have been around 40 years old when he died."Hello sir, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Arthur Buckly." "Nice to meet you Mr. Buckly, but you're right. Unfortunately I have to insist that you enlighten me," the angel smiled back apologetically.“Well,” said Mr. Buckly before he shifted his weight onto his left foot."You see, I passed away a few months ago and my wife sold my book collection here to pay for everything and well, somehow my soul got attached to one of the books when I was killed by one of my shelves."Mr. Buckly pointed to a book with a green leather cover that had now found its place on the shelf with occult books.
Aziraphel made a pitiful face: "I'm sorry to hear that, but maybe I know a way to..." "That won't be necessary," interrupted Mr. Buckly, "Muriel assured me that you don't mind if "I'm staying, I mean, if that's okay? I've taken care of everything while Muriel is away." The angel frowned: "Where did Muriel go? I thought they wanted to look after the shop." Mr. Buckly looked very thoughtful for a moment before he seemed to think of something: "They wanted to stay here too but then this floating head appeared and rambled something about an order ,they had to leave immediately and left me in charge."
Aziraphel's eyes widened, Metatron had given Muriel an order without his knowledge? What was the highest-ranking angel up to? But before he could think about it any further, Mr. Buckly caught his attention again by clearing his throat.Mr. Buckly gave him a confident smile, "Muriel also told me to tell them not to worry." The angel tried to return the smile, even if it didn't quite work this time: "Thank you very much, I'm just looking for a friend at the moment. I thought he might be here.. We... we're separated under bad circumstances."
A knowing expression appeared in Mr. Buckly's eyes: "Are you looking for Mr. Crowley?" Aziraphel's throat tightened at the mention of his friend and so he just nodded.Now Mr. Buckly looked contrite: "So you don't know yet... "I don't I know,What?!",Aziraphel's heart began to race and fear set in as he imagined what could have happened to Crowley."He's disappeared," Mr. Buckly blurted out, "He left the store and was gone. But the strange thing is the car is still where he left it."