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How long had it been now?
Time was such an easy thing to lose track of. Crowley spent so many of his days sulking in the bookshop or going for lonely drives in the Bentley, all of them seemed to bleed together at this point. There was no word from Aziraphale, not a peep. Muriel kept him updated on what they could from heaven, but they never had any solid updates on Aziraphale.
And by now, Crowley had had enough.
To leave him for Heaven was one thing, but to leave him for Heaven and then not contact him at all for so long afterwards? It was just petty at this point.
“Muriel!” Crowley called out as he entered the bookshop, summoning the angel from behind one of the many shelves.
“Welcome back, Mr. Crowley!” Muriel smiled widely, happy to see Crowley doing anything other than moping on the couch. “Would you like a cup of-”
“Nope, not today. We’re going to Heaven, kid, let’s go,” Crowley insisted, turning right back around and heading back towards the door.
“Oh! Oh- No,” the angel followed Crowley, their smile dropping and being replaced with an anxious grimace. “Why are we going to Heaven? Well- I pop back up all the time, so what I mean to ask is why are you going to Heaven, Mr. Crowley? I can’t arrest you this time, there’s nothing to arrest you for!”
“Call it a siege then, I’ve had enough!” the demons turned his head towards the sky when they made it outside, scowling behind his dark glasses. “And I hope he hears me up there! After 6,000 years and a bloody heartfelt confession, you can’t just abandon someone!”
“There has to be another way!” Muriel insisted as they made their way towards where the elevator would possibly open. “You can’t storm into Heaven, you’re just one demon!”
“Watch me!” Crowley stopped suddenly and spun on his heels to face Muriel, brows furrowed, and hands clenched at his sides. “I know you don’t understand, and I won’t hold it against you, but I need to do this. I want answers and Aziraphale is the only one that can give them to me.”
Muriel stared at Crowley for a moment, lips pressed tightly together before they whined and waved their hand to open the elevator to Heaven.
“Okay, but for the record, I tried to stop you!” the angel insisted. “I fought hard to get you to stop and- And you overpowered me with your demon-ness!”
“Right,” Crowley’s tense shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he patted the poor angel’s shoulder. “I won’t make you come with me, kid.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Muriel sighed, deflating. “I’d love to but I just- I can’t-”
“I know,” was the last thing Crowley said to them before entering the elevator alone.
The ride up was quiet, of course. His welcome was equally as quiet, that is to say it was nonexistent. If this were a real, genuine siege, no doubt there would be countless angels storming the entrance. But not now, malice was the last thing in Crowley’s heart.
He didn’t bother with a disguise this time, merely stepping out of the elevator and making a beeline to the head office. Only one angel crossed his path on the way, and they quickly ran off assumedly to alert others. Crowley paid them no mind, he was on a mission.
When he made it to the head office, two angels stood on either side of the doors, blocking his path.
“Halt!” the left angel shouted, one hand extended as a signal to stop while his other hand gripped a spear tightly. Really, they still used spears in Heaven? How outdated. “How did you get up here, demon? You’ll be destroyed!”
“I’ll take my chances,” Crowley replied darkly, taking off his shades to glare hotly at the guard. “Make things easy on yourself and let me in. I’m here for Aziraphale, not you.”
“The Supreme Archangel has no business fraternizing with a demon!” the right angel insisted, gripping her spear with both hands. “You have no place here!”
Crowley stared the angels down, looking between them, the door, then back to them. A grin grew on his face as he came to a realization.
“You couldn’t open those doors if you wanted to, could you?” he asked with a chuckle.
“That is none of your concern!” the left angel shouted.
“If we couldn’t open the doors, then you definitely have no chance of getting in!” the right angel insisted.
“Do they still use the same password for everything?” Crowley asked, approaching the door nonchalantly.
“What are you-” the left angel began to ask before his eyes widened at the sight of Crowley extending his hand and pushing the doors open with ease. “How did you…”
“I wasn’t always a demon. Funny how you lot keep forgetting that,” Crowley shook his head as he made his way into the head office. Really, Heaven had passwords for so many things and yet they used the same one for all of them.
Apparently, Crowley interrupted a meeting. The archangels all turned towards the intrusion, shock on their faces as they took in Crowley.
“How dare you-” Michael began.
“What are you doing here?” Uriel spoke up, ever the calmer of the pair.
Crowley’s pointed stare was the only answer they got from him. Following his line of sight, all those in attendance turned to look at the angel sitting at the head of the table. The Supreme Archangel himself.
Aziraphale.
He had changed in the time he’d been gone. He gained markings that many of the other angels had, gold flecks on his cheeks that complimented his eyes wonderfully. His suit was pure white, no longer shades of tan and cream, and his hair was just as white as it had always been, albeit more tamed and combed now.
The archangels seemed ready to jump as soon as Aziraphale told them to go. However, the Supreme Archangel kept his face neutral, clasping his hands in front of himself on the table.
“Is there something you need, demon?” Aziraphale asked, voice devoid of the fond tone he always held when he spoke to Crowley.
“Is there something- How can you ask me that? After the way you left things!” Crowley was baffled, not at all expecting a reaction quite like that. He had expected anger, apologies, literally anything but- Sterile indifference.
“After the way I left things?” the angel tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t recall leaving things any which way with you. Have we even met before now?”
That question alone made Crowley’s nonexistent blood run hotter than the fires in the deepest pits of hell.
“You bastard!” Crowley yelled, approaching the table only to be rushed by Michael and Uriel who each grabbed one of his arms to hold him back. He could struggle, he could easily break free, but he didn’t. He simply bared his teeth at Aziraphale in a snarl, finally dropping his shades to the ground. “Is that why you haven’t reached out at all since you left? Is that your whole plan? Just pretend you don’t know me and everything in your world will be perfect?!”
“My goodness,” Aziraphale looked over the demon, now with both eyebrows raised in slight surprise. He stood from his chair and approached Crowley calmly, hands clasped behind his back. “Ah- I believe I remember now. Were you the angel that created the galaxies? It’s a shame you fell, you did beautiful work.”
Crowley’s anger was momentarily overtaken by confusion. He looked into Aziraphale’s eyes, and now that he had a closer look at them, they seemed more purple than the sky blue they had always been. Crowley couldn’t sense deceit from the angel, not even a hint of it.
“What did they do…” the demon muttered, mostly to himself.
“We simply fixed him, my boy,” a familiar voice spoke up as the owner stepped into the room. All eyes turned towards the newcomer, and the golden pair instantly narrowed in a glare. The Metatron made his way over to the group, heels clicking on the bright polished floors. “A- What do the humans call it? Factory reset, if you will.”
“You-” Crowley began, only to be cut off.
“Of course, it wasn’t easy. There was so much-” The Metatron’s face scrunched in disgust. “Affection to rifle through. Angels are supposed to love all things, of course, but his feelings for you were practically a liability! And how ridiculous, really, an angel truly loving a demon. It’s a wonder he never fell himself.”
“He would never,” Crowley ground out. “He was a better angel than any of you!”
“He is a better angel than any of us, at least now,” The Metatron grinned as he walked over to be at Aziraphale’s side, looking like a smug teacher. “He is the perfect Supreme Archangel. As for you, what was it you call yourself now? Ah, yes. Crowley.” The Metatron reached out to grab Crowley’s face none too gently, looking into Crowley’s serpentine eyes with a serious expression. “Do you have any idea the consequences of raiding Heaven as you have done? Or is that exactly why you’ve done this?”
“Get your hands off me,” Crowley growled, shaking his head out of The Metatron’s grasp. “You don’t know a damn thing. You can’t control Aziraphale- If you were doing the right thing then you wouldn’t need to control him!” Crowley turned his attention to said angel behind The Metatron. “Angel- Please. You can’t be gone. I don’t know what they did but you’re in there somewhere-”
“Enough!” The Metatron shouted, looking to Michael. “Bring him somewhere while we decide on an adequate punishment for this behavior.”
Michael nodded wordlessly with just a glance to Uriel before they took Crowley away.
He could struggle, he could free himself easily.
But if Aziraphale had forgotten him, what was the point?